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Karijinbba Oct 2
To increase good fortune
like a tree of life.
I changed!
got Wiser!
I didn't share my Knight
his destiny cursed Mom
birthing me! unprovoqued
playing us both
lover against lover
by chicanery deceit duplicity
backfiring deadly on me!
for his destiny to appear
wholly good being
more evil then good.
~~~SO NOW~
I create as I speak!
I won't disappear like the word
I was wholly good long ago
now I am more good than evil
ballanced rising beauty
Take heed though!
this really happened to me
not remembering this magic prescripted incantation
nor understanding it
a temporary memory loss
due to brain blood loss
Oh! many years ago
missing the mark
this timeless riddle
My loss was imeasurable!
I lost my true love.
Understanding it would have boomeranged me
joy happily ever after
Great fortune fame
True love priceless
along with saying
just TEN to fifty two
magic words
I never meant to hurt you.
me fierce unborn protector
twas wrong medical advice
I love you, I will marry you
I will sing for you
No birthing task will ever be too hard for me to show love
love of my life
I surrender to you
do with me as you please
if your LOVE is my prise!
I demeanish misfortune
in reverse below.
why fail to question
my exasperated response to
ur e-mail why not ask about
original offender e-mailer!
the poisoner coiled
to your bed waiting
was your breach of trust!
irate culprit setting up discord
your destiny wrote saying
"I was unhappy because I didn't like the WAY my mother's p...y looked when I was born!"
all out of jealousy!
malice greed evile way of
deceiving a man to see
an **** deceiver
in more favourable light
it hurts doesnt it?
I returned fireball to smc
thinking viper still on to me
but it was you who got it!
uran back to wine-reward!
original offender dragging
you into her collapsing
black hole where
not even urlight escapes
your capricorn's revenge!
victims aren't fools!
foe is now exposed
~All copy rights reserved~
Take thee all thy wealth and treasures buried loot precious love
I wish for no other wealth from thee then to be thine wife from my virginity to have only thee one man one husband for the father of many of our children and to never know NO other man in this life or in many more, my Lancelott My King of Prussia PA Mont Davis,
Macchu-Picchu my highest
mountain climber lover
Hymalayan thee!
Its my wishing well coin wish for today since 44 Springs back.
Across the leaden sky
A gull shooting a cry
Hurried to his task
Before the sky wears his mask.

Nobody knew what his task was
Except that his time drew to a pause
And that he had to hurry because
From the open he had to retreat.

The bird knew this but he was wayward
Swimming in the airy wave, beak forward -
Skating, flying, but always eastward -
Heedless of the dark, like a poet.

(c) LazharBouazzi
Lazhar Bouazzi Mar 2017
Across the leaden sky
A gull shooting a cry,
Hastens to his final task
Before the sky puts on his mask.

No one knew what his final task was
Except that his time drew to a pause
And that he had to hasten because
From the open he had to retreat.

This the bird knew, but he was wayward;
He swam in the airy waves, beak forward,
Skating-flying, but always eastward,
Heedless of the dark - like a poet.

©LazharBouazzi, 2017
Jay Jun 5
I'M MAKING nachos in your toaster oven. The chips fall in the pan without a problem. Beans, evenly distributed (if I do say so myself.) Salsa- good to go. Then the cheese. Generic brand shredded cheese blend. I dangle my (washed) fingers into the zip-lock bag, grab a generous pinch and rain mild cheddar down on my gourmet meal. And I feel the tears building. "No," my conscious scolds, "you will not cry over shredded cheese." I add another pinch for flavor, then another to assert dominance. I slide the pan into the tiny oven- triumphant! But the next task breaks me. I freeze when I try to adjust the heat setting. I hear your voice so clearly, like you're still calling from the next room: "you have to press the TOAST button, it cooks much faster."  The tears start to roll. I think about how excited you were when cheese bubbled perfectly- "just a little brown, ever so slightly crispy." We would joke about your persnickety preferences, likely a product of your superior taste. Of course, you would have appreciated anything I made for you, but it was always better when the dish matched the idea in your head...when I made it like you would have made it (if you were only well enough to cook for yourself again.) In the present, I poke the TOAST button and flee the kitchen as to not cry in front of the smothered chips. I sit on the sofa and break down, gasping in childish sobs. "I miss her," I wail to an empty house. Warm tears coat my cheeks in the air-conditioned room. I feel so small. I feel so foolish for crying over ******, little things. I feel so... so... A bell dings in the kitchen. I wipe my sleeve across my face and traipse back to the toaster. Hand into oven mitt, mitt onto pan, pan onto table. I grab the plastic tubs of sour cream and guacamole from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer that sticks a little when you try to open it. I pick the non-wilted bits off the head of lettuce and rinse them under the faucet. I finish the recipe. I pull out a chair. I sit down to nachos for one.
Grief is such a strange emotion/process.

*Oh my! Thank you all so much for your support! I wrote this back in June when I needed to get it out of my head and had no idea it was chosen as a daily until I just logged back on and thought there was a glitch with my notifications number. I was slightly mortified that a piece of my mourning got exposure but after reading your comments I'm glad that I documented something many of you identified with. I've since journeyed a bit farther in my grief- slowly overcoming my initial instinct of trying to instantaneously analyze every feeling to determine whether I'm "allowed" to have it. I went to a group bereavement meeting offered by the hospital that treated the loved one in this poem and the nurse running the session made a good point- no one can fully understand another person's relationship with an individual who's passed on. Interpersonal relationships are unique and so is grieving. Being gentle with yourself (especially in times of struggle) is woefully underrated. And with that, I send love, gratitude, and positive vibes to this wonderful community
CK Baker Dec 2016
six lanes
in a sight line
past the cedar shims
and trim tempered insert
past the washed mural
and water stain tiles

covered eyes
fight for focus
over dark, distant bridges
and cork strung ties
foot crawlers on lemon pegs
under clouded halogen light  

dreamers contend
in a variation of chant
(thrown off
in a drawl sequence)
a glimpse of the guard
and warm towel assignment
forge comforting relief
in a task filled day
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