"recruited" poems
Encephalon is the flagitious syndicate target
To imprison the saintly and resistant population
In the research agenda which is classified
We are selected guinea pigs in a nightmare
To the unethical secret operations
Unknown to many, is the silent suffering
Of isolated victims living amongst the community
Satellite surveillance includes electromagnetic harassment
That burning, thought stealing, control of limbs feeling
I was done by the hoary Navy's sonar
Poor dolphins washed up Cornwall's beach(1)
After sonar echoed in my right lughole
Mind control technology has evolved
The community are recruited by false propaganda
Thats the local police, council, library, not restricted to neighbours
Old style Cointelpro is in play
Discredited, slanders, and victim blaming
Who can we share with but other targets
Nobody asked which human is for "use" in trials?
Jun 24, 2020
Jun 24, 2020 at 10:37 AM UTC
I recently had the great privilege of editing Mike Essig's latest poetry collection, THE BIOLOGY OF STRANGENESS, and I'm honoured to have been entrusted with such fantastic material. Putting together a book like this is every poetry geek's dream.
It's a beautifully textured assortment of poems, earthy yet lyrical, narrated by a voice that's uniquely grained with experience. There are pieces that will make you smile, think, wince; there are pieces that hit you in the gut out of nowhere; there are pieces that welcome you into them like old, worn-in shoes; there are pieces you will remember late some night when you're by yourself, and remembering them will make you feel less alone.
This collection of poetry makes you look at the banal and the everyday afresh; it finds magic and mystery in the mundane, and even Hawaiian shirts are poem-worthy when Mike Essig's writing about them.
The Kindle version is already available through Amazon.
A paperback edition is due out next month, and I can't wait to have a copy of this book on my shelf as well as on my e-reader.
Mike's previous poetry books, Never Forgotten and Huck Finn Is Dead are also available through Amazon and are excellent.
From his author profile on B Star Kitty Press:
"Mike Essig is a veteran of Vietnam and a retired English teacher. He’s also been recruited by the muse as a poet, like he hadn’t already been through enough."
Sample poems, links to sales pages and more info can be found at the B Star Kitty Press website. www(dot)bstarkittypress(dot)com.
Please do support this very talented indie author.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
I go unwilling and unarmed
Recruited by age I lay me down
The medals gleaming on my coat
Mean nothing now, my vessel weak
Hard for my ship to stay afloat
The ocean once sparkling blue
A dingy grey of lowering clouds
Dark and foreboding as a storm
I recall standing proudly on the prow
My crew would not know me now
There are things to accept, things to learn
Time to know my place, take the stern
My orders once barked in strident tone
Now a whisper, not my own
My ship becalmed, canons disarmed
Her flag that once flew with pride
Is still, no wind can stir her, colours bled
I salute and a gust raises her high,
A blood red pennant in a star filled sky
I am not afraid to die
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 8:15 AM UTC
*Their voices echo along the threads of time
I read their works on tattered pages
They say their words did but rhyme
Their's were for inspiration,not wages
They told stories like real witnesses
Of agonizing times and sicknesses
The soldiers of their sweet narrations
They say rode on horses of generations
Triumphant over the trend, glorious
Shooting arrows past lineages,like warriors
They fought against pride and Prejudice
Across boundaries, winged like Pegasus
They flew to bring merit of words and lines
And stood the test of time like wild pines
They used sharp words instead of swords
Only received rejection ,sometimes nods
Walked long distances,endured perspiration
Sleepless ,so to cultivate some inspiration
They were young but with mature souls
Their relentless effort vividly like Moles
Burrowed through even hardened hearts
And with needles of kindness stitched cuts
Finely weaved justice on paper like Mats
And spread it for the world,across all parts
When speech was hated and persecuted
They stood strong and instead recruited
The course of changes threatened to slay
Erosion corroded letters worse than clay
Their beautiful hearts where kindness lay
Were battered and butchered causing hope to decay
A season came when all was but a lost cause
And were tales of how once upon a time it was
Yet again like a phoenix someday they rose
From the ashes of history, how? Nobody knows
They were stronger and mightier than mortals
And travelled through un fathomed portals
They built a very powerful mental kingdom
Above the prestigious tower of wisdom
Where they reigned like the fires on doom at Mordor
Freed so many prisoners of their situations
Across the entire universe and her nations
Gave them keys so they unlock more doors
Stanzas crawled like maggots across all avenues
With mixed feelings the world received the news
Though were skewed to embracing the return
Because for once they saw a flame of peace burn
Their tears were wiped by every piece they read
Poets let them realize war wasn't only in their head
Reason flowed like waters in fountains and streams
Readers believed once again in their dreams
And like poetry and poets they didn't sit back and cry
Every poem they read,sad or not told them to get up and try
And when they finally got victory over their inner strife
Not even once did they forget poems changed their life*
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
This is a tale featuring the great superhero, SNOGGO
That ******* dangerous horrific and scary beast would not terrify me. Who was I? Some little stupid ******* weedy spastic? No, I was the great fearless SNOGGO! Yes! Yes! Yes! I was the magnificent SNOGGO who had faced (without flinching much) so many humunguously terrifying events! So I picked up the mighty hammer and struck out fearlessly: 'Wham! Thump! Crash! Boom!' I gave the terrfying monster a ******* great bashing.
I was enraged yet not terrified more than was absolutely necessary. Did you erroneously imagine I was just some little weedy wimp afraid of attacking a terrible adversary without a platoon of Hummers (whatever they may ******* be) full of mercenaries recruited from the slum trailer parks of Hades? 'Take that you stupid evil cunty ideologue!' I yelled, *'Take that! And that! ******* take that!'*
My God, I bashed that vile and 100% hideous creature ******* senseless. I was so ******* brave, just as brave as the worthless ***** who will soon be called heroic US veterans killing innocent Arabs left, right and centre throughout the entire ******* Middle East to please their Zionist taskmasters, God ****** them. I was incandescent. I was SUPER-FUCKING SNOGGO! I would triumph over adversity in the name of ******* freedom's ******* bell! Ding-dong!
As so it came to pass that, finally after a tremendous struggle in which I nearly lost a fingernail, the immature pink dwarf hamster lay lifeless before me, squashed into a puddle reminiscent of a flattened dead hairy ripe tomato. *'Bring it on, you ****** pansy,'* I bravely thought as I ****** my comrade's flaccid **** eagerly as we cowered manfully in a burnt-out mosque, preparing ourselves bravely for a spot of rendition among the local orphans.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
i am
--am i?--
yeah, i think i am
drunk drunk drunk
and signing myself up for
selective service so i
will be able to access my financial
aid and not have to cough up
almost $2,000 for one term
that me and my bank account
just really do not have, ya know?
and that little dropdown menu
well it doesn’t offer the option of:
“i am being forced to sign up for this
so i can afford college”
because i guess that sounds less
appealing than my being recruited
during lunch while i watched my fellow
(cis) male students dislocate their shoulders
doing pull ups so the older boys in uniform
would be proud of them and
maybe even give them a
nice little lanyard
because after over $100 to get
the right name and gender marker
on my id and $60 to get a new
birth certificate
i’m male enough for the government
to want to make into cannon fodder
but i’m still not male enough to
use the men’s room without the
threat of being verbally harassed
or physically assaulted
and that just makes me so angry
because here’s “bone-spurs donnie”
a known draft dodger of
at least 5 times who had the money
to pay off any doctor he wanted
trying his hardest to ban trans
people from enlisting
to fight in a war backed by a country
that wants them dead
yet that little M on my id
that i paid so much for
makes me eligible to be blown
to bits or come back to
a country that doesn’t want me anymore
with my brains scrambled from
shell shock and ptsd
because this country is willing
to pretty much force-feed young men
into the bottomless belly of the
war machine
always stoking the fires of the
military industrial complex with
money and unscarred flesh
and so much lies
and so much fear mongering
and i am just so tired
of having to fill in that
little bubble with my ballpoint
pen and a click of the mouse
pledging what could easily be the
rest of my life to being
riddled with bullets
miles away from home
just so i can grab that
financial aid
that perpetual carrot being dangled
in front of my oh so
transgender and queer nose
so i can afford an education
and not become another statistic
another person that the
united states of amerikkka
has failed
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 2:07 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Stuck in the middle of whats right and wrong,
I was dieing in the fear of needing love,
The love so strong,
ItS kind hard not to be a ****
With all these ******* around ya,
Talk is cheap, running their mouths be too quick,
And lame writers making disses that look like bad raps and essay papers,
It will only offend us , it you make us,
The mafia is whack as ****
And melz recruited ********
You really think I'm giving up,
Like ******* on striPper poles,
You all are an embarrassment, to poets everywhere,
I should delete my HP for how you poorly known,
I can take the feeling out your flows and make it an extraordinare,
I don't need it anyway I got website of my own,
With an audience on facebook,
That expect more from me soon,
Trying to check my page every now and aagain,
To see if I'm dissing you,
Are you that scared,
So unprepared,
Fakely incompatible,
With all affairs,
I swear I would drop names,
but y'all Dead to me,
Your not there,
Where did you go,
Where are you words,
Please use your tongue,
No further questions can't be sunt,
Gave you life,
You wanna breathe,
Stoping you from not doing so.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
The moon makes you cold
but therein lies its remote wonder
You soon become a devotee
trapped in the grip of its allure
and wondering how it is
that this oft silvery orb
is at once so cold and yet so warm
it leaves many a lover
moonstruck and abstracted
On a leafy night like tonight,
with a tropical moon up on high
dancing phantoms peep through
the gaps in the palm fronds
and the moon woos them
with its promise of worlds unknown
She looks at me face up-tilted, and
eyes consumed with heart-fresh passion
I have a foreboding feeling,
and a fearful certainty of loss
for time the unyielding enigma
promises you everything
but seldom delivers
what you ordered
in the heat of the moment
Tonight the shadows are dancing
the dance of silhouettes,
ethereal yet as real as the moon that shines
and the stars that beckon
I am a wandering disciple of life's mysteries
recruited on leafy nights such as this one is,
and I'm tied to you by an unebbing desire
to plant an idea on your tempting lips
and hear you dispense what my fate is
in this so changed world of our time
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 6:40 PM UTC
You
Shame me, blame me humiliate me and lie.
Compare me, threaten me, defame me and ignore my cries.
My life played like a toy, controlled and molded as it's twisted
and pried.
You
Charm them, ****** them and shape them with veiled ascendancy.
The manipulated, the puppets, the pawns; the recruited proxy.
Their life played like a toy, to dance and to sing to the captivating sounds of a deluded melody.
They
Become your enablers, the abusers, the bullies; your silhouettes.
Your servants, your minions, your marionettes.
Forever blindly clutched on a page of your novelette.
I
Am no longer a victim, desiring love from my family.
I am now enlightened and empowered, free from your chains.
I gained awareness, my strength and my sanity.
Now you play in silence with your bitter scapegoat games.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 7:12 PM UTC
As I walk out of the bat cave and into the heat
I put my coat on just to cover my feet
And as the pendulum swings to reverse the curse
The mad doctors trying to flirt with dirt
Fixing to prove his worth by doppelgänging birth.
Man has flawed his Isms
And if we were all prisms
Then the light shining through us wouldn’t light up a prison
And what's all this about changing the game?
Why the fans won't let the last brother play in the main?
Even though he was recruited by the All Mighty King
Tried to erase him from history and even changed his name
Most chose the Rubber
While the true choose the Ring
Most chose the Rubber
While the truth is the Ring
Most chose the Rubber
But the truth is the Ring
Peace.
Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 2:12 PM UTC
I held her hand as we walked through the new born night. She had just moved here a few weeks ago. I fell for her the moment she walked into the class room. As we walked I noticed that a swarm of fire flies begin to spiral around her. They then illuminated her face as it begin to change with the glow. She then spoke in two voices at once. " I am sorry Jonathon. I am not who you think I am. We are here to stop them! They want to destroy you all. And we are not going to let them. We knew that your leaders would not side with any of us. So we recruited outside of your race. Your insect world is by far more vast than your own. They are leading the effort to also protect their own Planet against a secret enemy that has long been here. I am so sorry but I must go soon. " She then faded into the blackness of the forest by the lake. I could still see her as the fireflies followed in glow.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
The horse stood healthy proud and tall
unaware of the journey ahead.
Roughly being pulled from her stall
on unstable ground to tread.
World war one would soon start
many families to be torn apart.
All over the horses were being bought
to be shipped to the impending war.
Fine strong animals the army sought
ever needing more and more.
This was a big event in this tiny village
to them it was official pillage.
In the crowd stood a lad brooding
the horse given to him as a gift.
Now he had to watch his eyes protruding
the auctioneer's hammer began to lift.
Within seconds quickly with a bang it fell
bitterly knowing he had to sell!
The army took charge of his eminent steed
not even allowed to say goodbye.
When they left his horse took the lead
he was not going to cry.
Ridden by a soldier almost his age
feeling the rising despair and rage!
The horses and men moved in slow motion
his heart sank what could he do?
Villagers to recruited with no notion
of where they were going to.
Determined to follow and bring her back
foolish but courage he didn't lack!
Weeks later at night Daniel crept out
his love for his horse so strong.
A perilous journey but for him no doubt
he could not see it was wrong.
Anaba his friend meaning return from war
this he would do on her back once more.
Yet unsure if he would return his tale to tell!
The Foureyed Poet.
May 14, 2011
May 14, 2011 at 5:39 AM UTC
Ode to Vietnamese Coffee
Vietnam has the best coffee
In the **** world
Just perfect
Hot as hell
Sweet as heaven
With a kick my *** attitude
To boot
Can’t resist it
Even thought it means
I can’t sleep
Must
Have
My
****
Vietnam
Coffee
Right
Now
VC2
In Saigon
One meets
All sorts of strange characters
VCQ
VCQ he called himself
He was filled with stories
From the war
And the revolution afterwards
VC2
Was a young man
In Danang
During the war
15 years old
Recruited into the VC
Infiltrated into the base
Just another street urchin
Stole away at night
Hiding on the big air base
Stealing things
To sell at the black market
Just one of the army
Of street urchins
That became friendly
With the enemy
They called him
VCQ
And the nickname stuck
That is what he called himself
Said that he had become
A VC Seal known as the VCQ
Learned his English
From his black marketing days
He perfect the art
Of wheeling and dealing
As a street urchin
In the mean streets of Danang
After the war
he rose through the ranks
Retired as a general
Became a college professor
Later opened his own business
An interior design business
When Saigon became Saigon
Once again
Wheeling and dealing
Around the world
Always one step ahead
Of the semi-communist authorities
One day he came back with 25 bottles
Of wine
The customs guy said
That is too much
He said but I can’t drink them all
And gave him 5 bottles
Problem solved
And VCQ laughed and laughed
As the wine washed over us
And we became drunk
With his endless stories
From the mouth of VCQ
Just another night
In Saigon
Drinking the Night away
With the VCQ
Future VC
Saigon is filled with interesting characters
Filled with fascinating back stories
One could write hundreds of stories
About the people one encounters
In a nail shop
That caters to mostly Korean visitors
We met a boy of 8 years old
Who was a natural born hustler
He had wonderful English
Wonderful French
And even some Korean
And he wanted to show us around
He spoke English
Without an accent
In an upper class British style
As if he were born to the manor
How and why he learned
English so well
Would be an interesting story
His Mother was also
An interesting character
Been running the store
For five years
Amused it had become the Korean
To Go place
In Saigon
Just one of those mysterious things
They had another shop nearby
A smoothie place
And he offered to guide us there
But were in a hurry
As we left
I thought to myself
Here is a future VCQ
The fascinating character
That had wined and dined us
Late into the night
Beguiling us with his tales
From his time in the VC
Wonder what this future VCQ
Will tell his future friends
About his past life
Living in a beauty saloon?
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 1:35 AM UTC
Pushing out the daughters of older woman words...
~
it's almost May Day,
and the only niece,
husband towed,
all to a springtime glorious
drop by, dinner come,
......and there is poetry in their expectant eyes
a pronouncement,
predecessor to an announcement,
spring blessings uttered over melting smoked mozzarella pasta,
sweet balsamic fruited salad dressings of
of the unripened fruit of newer life,
seeded, deeded and coming,
soon enough
we act not shocked,
shocking them
oh yeah,
we figured dropping in sudden,
needed a really good excuse,
and a good one,
a new life,
a **** good one
old man granddad and now sooner
to be dubbed grand uncle'd,
children bejeweled cherry garnet carbuncle'd,
decorating his
red cheeked face,
redden a happy heart,
duly recorded, his thoughts,
twine cord wrapped and delivered,
4am punctual
we toast with three wine glasses Spanish Malbec,
one just air-filled, sorry Charlie
we all review the rules,
garnered from our
personal histories,
lore and the gore and the endless more
of raising children,
stanzas that never rhyme quite the way you planned,
and blessed is that good enough is
plenty good enough
am I excited, they inquire?
long pause, no, not excited,
thoughts quiet, paused,
words needed,
and in time,
drafted, recruited
something different,
more pleased in a way,
that comes so rarefied,
a distancing sense from the normalcy of life,
the taste
when life's hard work.
is justified,
yes,
justified
~~~
may first four and twenty ante merry-diem
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 7:12 PM UTC
This tale I tell is bound by fire
Of dark magic, and dragons
Of that I'm no liar
Tis on a night just like this
That Bormar fell to bits
In deepest darkest middle ground
Where elves and warlocks roam around
And magic spills from every lip
And potions hang on every sip
The battle of the dragon borne
Against the mighty shadow horn
Would change the balance of the land
Where only one could rule with the strongest hand
Now wizards and dragons they plotted tight
Recruited elves and shadow knights
Made spells that would win no doubt
And banish all the goodness out
The longhorns of Bormar didn't dwell
For they knew that this could spell
The end of all they they held tight
And pledged to slay and **** all night
And so it was that they did meet
High on yonder hill did greet
Two armies of strength and power
Waiting for the killing hour
And when all blood spilled
And pain was born
Bormar stood
Now empty and gone
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
I can solve a rubik's cube.
I can't unravel the puzzle in my head.
I can checkmate someone in four moves.
I can't protect myself.
I can master any Dungeon, with my trusty d20.
I can't hide from reality.
I can compute complex mathematical functions.
I can't answer why.
I can type 80 words a minute.
I can't get three out of my head.
I can read 300.
I can't stop thinking "I'm not worthwhile."
I can repair an Xbox 360.
I can't be fixed.
I can run a mile in under six minutes.
I can't get away from my own mind.
I can recite lyrics from hundreds of songs, without the accompaniment.
I can't escape.
I can diffuse a difficult situation via mediation.
I can't stop the onslaught from between my ears.
I can greatly influence others with sound logic, rhetoric, reasoning.
I can't bury my internal conflict.
I can dunk a basketball.
I can't slam my troubles away.
I can qualify for Honors programs.
I can't keep up with the burden.
I can get recruited to play Division II college sports.
I can't emotionally handle the lifestyle change.
I can bowl a 230.
I can't clean every proverbial frame.
I can "wow" people with my athleticism, skills, abilities.
I can't accept what I do as ever being "good enough".
I can outwork my opponent.
I can't go back to where I'm from, I have to get out.
I can feign happiness, joy.
I can't bring myself to feel the real deal, no matter how much I want to.
I can function.
I can't survive...not like this.
I can take away other's pain.
I can't stop my own.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 7:27 PM UTC
Yea I'm a man.
Never did I lay to rest
Yea I'm a man.
I got up every time I was down
Let you beat me to a pulp
Yea I'm a man.
Lost my brother at war
Lost my sister she's a *****
Lost my father and my mother
Yea I'm a man.
He died from liver cancer
She died from aids
As I walk proud
Every body whispers there goes the child of....
Yea I'm a man.
Never did I cry
When he died
When she left
When they died
Everything I had, the street snatched
I'm a man.
Wore this camouflage and I shot
Every men, women, and children
Came to town and burned the city down
I'm a man.
Taped his eyes open
So he can watch me **** his wife
Pray I said pray
Pray I said pray
I'm a man.
They recruited me
Knowing my troubled mind
Gave me a gun
Said you live or die
Now you are asking why?
You asked me to share war stories
Now don't tell me that's a crime
I was only 18 it was their life or mine
She enjoyed it
Some called for God, some for Allah
When I was done they both tasted the barrel of my gun
Don't question my manly hood
I killed for the air in your lung
I'm a man.
Just don't know what kind of man.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
I ain't racist but I dislike racism
Even though I'm in a racist system
Now in a show you how a slave would rebel
Walking wit God just to face the devils
I'm Nat Turner in this matrix
But I'm Martin Luther king. Chasing a dream
But it's more than one neo I'm wondering who the Agents
But I can see the changing faces
I see some of Zion ain't awakened
But the truth you have to face it
But I see a matrix revolution
Cause they don't see the matrix illusions
While religions feuding
While hiding the truth in it
I'm just the one morpheus recruited
An HE still human
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
Free verse
Karasuno
We were once called the wingless crows,
But now we have risen from our ashes,
We are now stronger and tougher then ever before,
And that’s because we are a team.
From the foundation and most composed of us all,
Our captain Daichi always has our back,
To the third year setter who is always watching out for us,
The “mom” of Karasuno, Sugawara
The Ace of our team was once stopped by the Iron Wall,
But our Timid Asahi has risen over that wall,
The next ace of Karasuno is a powerhouse all his own,
and he’s also our hotblooded spiker Tanaka.
The guardian of Karasuno is constantly evolving,
And with a Rolling Thunder, Nishinoya has the ball back in the air once more,
The Next captain of the team had once left the team,
but the always diligent Ennoshita will be the glue for the team.
The last two second years are slowly growing with the team
Kazuhito is always there to lend a helping hand,
and Kinoshita will always be there with a cheer,
And they are learning to fly again as well.
The calm and always calculating middle blocker,
Tsukishima stops your ball in an instant,
He was a coward but has grown to be a great asset,
With a Jump Float serve, the shy Tadashi has taken the point.
The first demon first year is the control tower for the team,
The king of the court Kageyama, will always deliver the ball,
The second demon first year is the greatest decoy,
As The next tiny giant, Hinata has the ball down with a freak quick in minus tempo.
Known for her beauty is the manager of Karasuno,
Kiyoko is a small talker, but is a bodyguard as well
Recruited without a thought, she didn’t know what to do,
Then Yachi took the mantle, and grew her own wings.
Coach Ukai was hesitant at first,
But he is now a strong forceful coach of the team,
He's a beggar but he always gets practice games ready,
Takeda may be a teacher but he’s a member of the team as well.
This team is taking flight once more,
So don’t mess with us crows.
May 7, 2020
May 7, 2020 at 5:27 AM UTC
Death’s Dictator Rendered
Countries and leaders
They coexist in a paradox of “one needs another.”
Power is alike a potent drink
To power’s heads, such intoxicates and corrupts a brother.
Shielding one self through words that justify a blood bath
Words handed over
to the trusting populations……
in order to capture a ticket to power’s seat
with such, promises and trustful actions never do they meet….
A push of a button….
A jab with a verbal knife…..
Strikes another nation.
Through corruptions and anger
derived from ill faded and egocentric power bursts…
Destruction rains over
those that they consider a “rival”.
Walls cutting off roads
to the needless spread of targeting those “others”
defined as the obstruction to their greedy targets of expression
of joyful power intoxication through war and money absorbing actions.
in which a job…
people are recruited from the populous.
Whom the dictator loves to employ…
Soldiers in their “war to their just cause”
the population is brainwashed to oblivion.
Without a true view of who and what they are fighting for….
until the world is shaken and almost rendered “extinct.”
Through these pig headed wars….
A show of strength…..
to hide their weaknesses…
the purge of adversaries…..
ensures their hold to their sword of power.
As memories of those fallen
on their forgotten grave sites….
another….
who remembers a forgotten and misunderstood heart….
on their tombstone…
they place upon it a beautiful flower.
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 6:24 PM UTC
Enter the Dragon
I didn't start with my addiction until I was 13. It was at that point that I found alcohol. "Demon *** And a terrible scourge it was for a majority of my life.
I want to preface this next segment by saying that I love my father dearly. He is now sober and has been many decades. But at the time my story is being told, he was an alcoholic. Of the first water. A "responsible" drunk. He held down a job. A job he hated. And so he ran away from life when he could. And both my parents liked to throw parties. There were always mixed drinks. Martinis. Lots of them. After a few my father could no longer maintain. He couldn't mix the drinks. So guess who was recruited as bartender? You got it. And I began to imbibe in my own creations as I had to "test" the taste. They were good, alright. And my customers got plowed! I would have also, but God had His hand on me, even then. I somehow knew better. I got tipsey. But my REAL alcoholic behavior would come later. At that point I began raiding my father's liquor cabinet. The drugs came later, too...
... enter a little girl named CRICKET.
SøułSurvivør
6/3/2017
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 6:22 AM UTC
I seem to be a morning person
A lover recruited by the morning sun.
But this morning air is too cold and this sunshine doesn't seem enough to cover bare bodies.
Tugging on the blanket while intertwined bodies toss and turn.
I accidentally wake him, or maybe purposely?
Because when he wakes up;
he slurs his words, he's not made for mornings apparently.
His eyes blink, unwillingly and his limbs barely move.
But his skin glows and he invites me back in again.
Morning people don't exist to him.
But I do, and I trace the lines of his skin, I hover above spots that make him giggle.
I brush through his dark thick hair and admire his closed eyes, creases that predict an age too old for him.
It reveals his most human feature, the amount he smiles.
Smell of him on my skin, my hair in knots
warmed with the heat his body has to offer.
Mornings like this.
He rolls over, face buried in the mattress with one eye open he examines me.
But he barely tries, and tells me I'm beautiful.
I don't think he notices how beautiful he is too.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
How can you miss me
When I've been right here
And you are the one
Who went missing
My heart recruited you
Showed you affection
We got along with ease
Like we'd known each other in another realm
The realm of souls
And mine was inclined
To the righteous in you
The good had kept us bound
There were too many coincidences
That had to mean something
Like a soft rain of post it notes
That stole my attention
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
I was recruited to fight in a war
Not overseas
However massive and ******
It was a war on our own land.
Dark people forcing darkness on the inhabitants
Now the clash has come
from those sick of the tolerance of violence
he sided with those true
and became a worthy combatant.
A shield of truth and a gun of brighter ways
Holds the guilty in the scope
as truth fires the killing shot
The reward in which they have earned
from crimes against humanity
on these conflicted streets...
Justice is what they have gotten.
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 9:26 PM UTC