"pupose" poems
the sign on the railway station says "Common Destination,"
the ties of our tracks are uniform, creosote covered, splintered,
spaced uniformly as is the wont of the arm-in-arm soldiers,
different regiments in the same army, though as they march,
some on the high, some the low road, in defense of the values,
right, right, right.
no believing in forever land, dreamt of poems forever burning,
real life farenheit bonfires lit by brown uniforms and such, thus,
now, when a poem completed and shared,
it is instantly disfigured,
by flames harnessed to lick
the slate page clean, immediately,
presenting yet another opportunity,
to protest, persistently,
endless be my own turnkey hands renewing,
my write to right.
my write to right,
my pupose; my only intent, even in love poems,
ogdiddy witty ditties, long dialogues with the creator, all purposed,
all written while standing one on left foot, are we not all
poets of the ways to increase the sum total of
righteous and kindness in the world.
'tis right to write,
but go further and farther,
write to right.
to ease, comfort, shoulder and hand extensions, be the lean-to,
the shelter when there is no shelter, for there is no
owning words, and no limitation on clear vision and
the right to write.
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
A cross of wood
Tis the carpenters son on a cross of wood
To slay him the soldiers in hood
tis day in calvary stood
blood of lamb shed for good
Tis the King born in a manger
Yet to none a stranger
time he cried for water
yet to get bitter vinegar
Tis the son of Almighty in heaven
Times in the cross he cried seven
For Our dues he made even
A Prayer for his foes to be forgiven
Tis the son of God crowned with thorn
For our sins his flesh torn
For tis the pupose he was born
Darkness to end in a joyous morn
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
i used to lay
on the hard sidewalk
sandwiched between the street
and the subway station
in the early morning
and feel the rhythmic
tap
tap
tap
of each step
of each passerby
wondering for each
what are your struggles
your everyday fight
what breaks you
and defeats your pupose
then i stay
and wait
until the familiar faces
pass by again
and by now
it is dark
and cold
when they walk by
i wonder once more
what reminded you to live today
what is the reason you keep on surviving
why do you continue to breathe today
who showed you how to overcome
i've noticed since then
that i don't remember
the faces
no
i remember the eyes
the familiar eyes
that remind me of
the struggle to live
the fight to survive
the broken breaths
the defeats
and i'm reminded
that no one showed you how to overcome
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 3:06 PM UTC