When I regretted
Why God is stingy
In showering me
With wealth
He took my health
Goading me
With a threat of death!

Praying when
I recuperated
I realized
Foolishly I had been
Daydreaming for wealth
Oblivious
My health
Is my
Number one wealth!/////

Who is Alem Hailu?

He is an emerging  Ethiopian poet,translator and author of all literary genres in the medium of English language.
He is penetrating the global book market stamping a foot print on the firmament of literature.
If you peruse his work you could note ,with poems of local touch and national sentiment like 'Come to Ethiopia' and 'Great Tiding' , he is playing an ambassadorial role in several international poetry blogs from Australia to America .His poems have proved trending.
He has achieved global presence via
www.poetrypoem.com
www.hellopoetry.com
www.poemhunter.com
www­.allpoetry.com
www.writeoutloud.com
www.novelcollective.com / Australia
www.poemabout.com
His books  and posters showcasing the knack of an Ethiopian author are cracking open publishers hearts' from Europe to America(www.united -p.c.eu ) (Austria),www.lulu.com(America), www.trafford .com America)
From the publisher  or amazon and the like, you can order for his books aiming at entertaining,edifying,style-showing,seeking an outlet to east African voice,finding a niche to Ethiopian authors in the global literary scene  and teaching the English language.
Specially schools,colleges,universities and libraries, people running stationeries,book malls and cultural unites of different embassies could benefit from making his works available on their shelf.

To foreigners his work could serve as a window story.
His works include

1) In the Vortex of Passion's Wind

A poetic Drama on the Wrong Turns of life( *** and AIDS )
It is also meant to serve a language teaching material to Higher Learning Institutions and Preparatory Schools
A useful input  for performing artists
By Alem Hailu G/Kristos

ISBN:978-3-7103-2109-2
www.united- p.c.eu
Austria

2)A Boon of Classic Poems

(Translation in Amharic)

A collection of selected  classic  poem s

By Alem Hailu G/Kristos
ISBN:978-1-312-94998-0
www.lulu.com,America

3) A Vent to Stifled Emotion

A debut collection of poems
By Alem Hailu
ISBN:978-1-4907-5675-2(sc)
978-1-4907-5674-5(e)
www.Traffor­dpublishing.com
America
4) The Truth and Dawn
and Other  palatable Short Stories
of both mix: Art for art's sake and life's sake
By Alem Hailu G/Kristos
IBN 978-1-329-43915-390000
www.lulu.com
America

5)Pupil's poem(Full Color)

Rhyming poems for pupils and learners of the language
Systematically selected words and expressions to upgrade the language proficiency of students.
Inspires pupils to read as well as write poems.
Lulu.com ,America
ISBN:5800111090472

6)Hope from the Debris of hopelessness

A Novel with the theme "Disability is not inability!"
By UnitedP.C is in the pipeline
ISBN:

Click here to Reply or Forward
2.91 GB (19%) of 15 GB used
Manage
Terms - Privacy
Last account activity: 9 hours ago
Details

Fit for a King

Was it the visions that told her so?
Told her to see them, to hear them
The main character in her own paranoid play
That part where she leaves us –
Leaves us
Split and broken –
Her mind
Split and broken -

Running wild, bucolic at times
Never stopping until her body stopped
She had babes loving them little in life
Yet teaching them life; after life
She wrote it all down for us to read
Each wild, eccentric, illusionary deed

She was fit for a King, so it’s told
She kept his name, never letting go
Even though she let go

Kept a bottle of whiskey under the sink
For those special times, to help her think
We rested her there in Whiskey Town

We thought it fit
Fit for her, Fit for a King

Her final chapter unrefined
A memorial with none but 4
We who cared, we who could
Who rested her demons – lay them down
Out there in Whiskey Town
Let her be gone, the torment let loose
Into the waters, the soil, the woods

We thought it fit
Fit for her, Fit for a King

The candle is lit and the house slumbers as
I turn the pages of this most personal tome it is not magik but memory
that urges the turning.
From the Oh so careful initial lines of a Very young woman beginning her search
with every I dotted and T crossed
every day logged and noted .To the busier
days of finding teachers and noting the questions that HAD to have answers.
With accolade's that came when at last I was asked to lead and the tears and uncertainty when the time had come to leave.
The wonder and renewal that comes with teaching and the pride as my students stand on their own and go forward.
Too the life moments when my attention was scattered a parents passing the ending of a marriage
Every drop of candle wax and oil stained sheet recalls vivid memories and tears and laughter.
My Book is not as pretty as I once thought it would be ,
But I met My Lady in its pages and for that I will every be grateful.

Solita Shadoewalker

At age 2
In my daddy's eyes I saw a fortress
A pillar of protection
The monsters in my bed feared him

At  age 4
In my daddy's eyes i saw
A world spinning with seas of love and mountains of hope
the reflectiom of me
Was a precious jewel

At age 5
In my daddy's eyes I saw a hero
The fruitful productive provider
His voice of resonance an assurance
As he lifted me up and made me giggle

At age 8
In my daddy's eyes I saw
My confidant
Many stories he inspired me with
Teaching me lessons of life
As he taught me how to ride a bike

At age 10
My dad was nowhere to be found
Mum wouldnt tell me where he went
She said 'it' was complicated
I still loved him wherever he was

At age 15
my television was my dad
Teaching me all dirt
My world was spinning with despair and rejection
Adolescense  was tough
Fantasising on Jlo's ****
I understood that he ran away

At age 17
I found an older girlfriend
After many rejections with the younger ones
I forgot about my dad
But when I remembered him I resented him
I missed looking into his eyes

At age 19
I remembered his lessons of life
'Money is not everything'
'If you dont get what you want,
you didnt really want it'
I didnt want to become like him

At age 20
10 years with my mother alone
And here he is standing at our door
Looking like a drenched fowl
'you have grown so tall'

Im now 20 dad
and you must be kidding
10 years and that is your first line?
I want him to go
Mum takes him in
And forgets all her hurt

I corner him at the dinner table
You are a coward dad, why did you run away
He can't even look me in the eye
Mum speaks on his behalf
"Its gonna be okay Dre"

At age 21
Deep inside i hurt
Why did you leave us?
Son, you dont understand
Sometimes you have to leave those you love the most
If you care for them

Still at 21
I cant stay anymore
I move in with my other girlfriend
This one is young and hot
The older one taught me 'game'
Dad doesnt make sense

Later in life
I swear to be a better father
But i come to realize that
Dad was the better father

I see with his eyes that sometimes you have to leave those you love the most
If you care for them

Even though they might never understand...

Once a little sister
having all the
attention
having a big brother
always having him teach
her how to be
the best at everything
always having someone to look up to

Now a big sister
taking the backseat
teaching her little sister
that life happens
when you least expect it

She misses being the baby
she misses her big brother
she misses her role model

She has to be the strong one now

She has to be the role model now.

There in the trenches
I've seen headless henchmen
Bending spoons
For hapless children
Cremated too soon

Demons croon
They zip
They zag
As the lower class picks their scabs
The gift of gab
Sent towards rips from packs
The rush alone could make one gag!

Have you been there?
Would you go back?

There in the trenches
I've met widows and wives
Carousing with voyeurs
Polishing pikes
Their best years behind
Spent on pyrite-
Euphoric alibis
Which eviscerate bright eyes

Will the Church draw nigh
Or watch the stranded die?

Into the trenches
Few do proudly go
Ash pollutes the snow
Falling like pyrex smoke
You might choke
When violence hits your nose

Deathblows
Thrown by the dead broke
Cross your eyes
And clog your throat
Check your pulse
As an ambulance clears the roads

Would you leave ivory thrones
To reach a people with no hope?

There in the trenches
Christ spent His time
Teaching the poor
Healing the blind
Who are we to stand aghast?
Shrugging our shoulders
Fine wine in antique glass?

When revival comes
Will it move your feet
With Gospel passion
Down the cracking streets?

Could you spare a dime
To prepare a meal
For a drooping reed
With snakebitten heals?

There in the trenches
Good News must flow
Will you remain aloof
Or be the one to boldly go?

We don't say "I love you" anymore
The sentiment buried deep
Seldom considered
Never discussed
A declaration that swims
With memories
Sinks with exhaustion
Hardens with repetition
Deep in the recesses of our souls
The fear of it's loss
Is the proof of it's existence
Throughout it's evolution
How painful to let go of what it once was
How difficult to grasp what it has become
How dreadful to consider what it may turn into
Sublimated, as it is
Fighting gravity to escape the ocean floor
This love awaits resurrection
The renewal of senses dumbed down

"I love you" takes it's rightful place
Beyond the realm of intelligence
Into the dumb bliss of Spirit
To mingle with childhood dreams
Memories of carnivals and candy
Moms and Dads
To pick up after us
Teaching, alas, by example
Wide-eyed wonder for alien species
Dogs and cats and turtles and frogs
Butterflies and bees, lightning bugs and praying mantis
We marvel at it's devotion and wonder
What is he praying for? Who is he praying for?
More likely we marveled at how green he was
Days when we knew love without knowing it's name
Before we knew what it was
A given
Yes, a Given
Waiting for the day when it would be
Taken for granted
Yes, Taken

The words have become useless to us
Offered and received so many times
Put them to rest
Hope for the best

Before i met you, i thought i knew love;
that warm cozy feeling that comes from a hug
Before i met you, i thought i knew heartbreak;
when you sob on the floor and your fingers shake
i had myself convinced i’d never be happy,
i searched for any love that might make me sappy
Before i met you i ignored my oblivion…
oblivion.
oblivious to who i was, i created a mask.
a mask to cover a personality i knew nothing about,
a mask to hide all the feelings i wanted to ask.
i tried to fit in with the girls who were loved,
longing for attention, but aside i was shoved.
Before i met you i feared the world,
like every other lonely 14 year old girl.
Before i met you i feared who i was and who i could be;
feared their opinions and who might not like me.
i had heard plenty of love songs, before i met you
and told myself junior high love was real, an excuse to feel blue.
When i met you i needed no excuse,
you taught me to let all of my emotions loose.
my happiness and sadness were, like my name, and deep and free ocean,
you taught me love and you enhanced every emotion.
i found myself in your dark brown eyes,
within them i could see limitless skies.
your big happy smile i’ll never forget,
your whole being is something i’ll never regret.
when i met you came sadness and true love,
a lesson about heartbreak  and laughter sent from above.
my angel sent to teach me things school never could,
never thought i’d fall in love, though with you, i would.
i knew you were bad for me from the moment we met,
but curiosity killed the cat, so with you i went.
Now since i met you, “thank you for loving me” is all i can think,
as blood, sweat, and tears all pour down the sink.
But since i met you, i wear no mask,
within you, i found myself, no more questions to ask.
Since i met you, i don’t long for attention,
in my head i remember the help you would mention.
Since i met you, i no longer fear their opinions,
they’re all sheep anyway, society’s minions.
Since i met you i don’t even listen to love songs,
each love is different i write my own to rips of bongs.
Before i met you, i didn’t know how to care,
since i met you, i learned that’s because caring is so rare.
So thank you for teaching me the greatest life lesson,
not every person we meet is meant to be a blessin’

There’s no me
Without you

There’s you
Then there’s me

Life’s been tough
Without you

There’s me
There’s no more you

Looking over my shoulder
Watching me get older

Buying my favorite things
Guiding me thorough everything

Teaching me to be strong
Scolding me when I’m wrong

Taming me everyday
To the woman I am today

I never imagined life
Without you

Now I have to live life
Without you

I planted a seed underneath the concrete; unable to feed it what it needed, it seemed obsolete.
Aware of the complications to this plants creation, stationary I stood depending on faith to advocate me in my dedication.
As I waited for the rose to rise, I rose my head to look up at the sky; wondering why a guy like me is doing this and why I'm even trying.
I guess I just wanted to see beauty penetrate the tough surface giving it the purpose to teach me that beauty lies within each person.
The hard reality that everyone else sees on the outside fails to expose the rose underneath; so the cracks in the concrete are all that they see and all that they know allowing beauty to seem surface deep.
If they stuck around to see what's in the ground, the very foundation that reveals the variation of our souls, they would know that beauty can be seen even from the deepest of holes.
After much debating, contemplating and waiting, I had concentrated on a view so intoxicating; even correlating with my previous statement.
There I saw in front of me, a healthy, black rose that broke through; unknown as to how it changed its hue, it did what I didn't think it'd be able to do: it grew through the barrier into something new, teaching me that even a plant can do it, too.
Although the mystery of it's dark beauty is still a surprise, I won't question it; just make the best of it and understand that it came through, despite what may have tested it.

A scholar asked me
What is tragedy?
Then I replied,
In a relationship
Break up is a tragedy.
In a marriage
Divorce is a tragedy.
The scholar didn't agree.
Then I asked him
What is real tragedy?
The scholar replied,
Misconception in relationship
Is known as tragedy.
Proceeding fake courtship
Is also called tragedy.
Tolerating wrong for long
Is an everlasting tragedy.
In a marriage
Surviving life unhappily
Is a real tragedy.
Enduring ill-treatment
Is a true tragedy.
Teaching children circumvent
Is the most tragic tragedy.

Science can't save you, neither can religion,
at least Popper and Niebuhr, philosophers and poets,
are entertainers, which is why actors and athletes
are paid so much. Thanks for the summaries.
I was teaching Shakespeare's 92nd ridiculous sonnet
to my student who lays blacktop in the off season
Shakespeare bellyaching about dying without her love
a feeling foreign to a modern adolescent sensibility
although many teens are pretty far gone searching
for their mothers or fathers in their dazed lovers' eyes.
Which is why we call it "the wound that never heals."
Or the lesion that's always lengthening. And bleeding.

Muslim fundamentalists and their Christian counterparts
are a mystery to me. Pews and prayer rugs, the airless
indoor environment of religious worship, reading
scriptures, hypnotized by hymns and fainting from staring
at candles through stained glass windows, almost certain
the preacher is faking his certainty about the afterlife.
It's not my problem. A more immediate concern:
receding gums and tooth extractions, swollen joints,
poor lubrication and circulation, wave after wave
of viral infection, the occasional antibiotic-resistant
bacterial attack, usually urinary, and who knows
what internal organs are dividing and conquering
without mercy or cease, i.e. the wound that never heals.

It is wise not to overvalue your continued existence,
good not to be innumerate, unable to compare
a mere 80 years with say 6.0 x 109 or all of time
(to date) times the multiverse. Conversely,
it is interesting all of space and most of history is contained
in your mind (realizing of course it's just a map
of the cosmos not the cosmos itself, or is it?). I'm
unable to wrestle free, tongue in that cavity
and locked in my memories, so separate and disparate
from the biomass in the crosswalks, even my spouse.
Alone, so alone, even your doctor can only devote
limited thought to your situational mortality through
the redress of poetry - also a wound that never heals.

Snow for eternity, that's what this February's been.
All to the good, for someone it's the final February
so enjoy it to the extent you can. By that I mean joy.
Joy at birth. Joy at death. All joy. All times. Anyway,
that was Shakespeare's message: even tragedies are comedies.
May, a Buddhist, chants each morning.
Her husband, Marc, who's Jewish, plays league tennis.
Their son, Aaron, will soon make Eagle scout.
How does that relate to your wound that never heals?
Luck runs out. For D.H. Lawrence in New Mexico
or Ulysses S. Grant in Ohio or Yasujiro Ozu in
Tokyo or Satyajit Ray in Bombay or Rabindranath
Tagore in Bangalore or at the Battle of the Atlantic in the Azores.

The night is a poultice, winter or summer solstice.
My anonymity will not affect the anomie ghettoside
seeing for myself how season by season
vacations and accomplishments accumulate, late in life
and early on, sunrise over mountains or moonrise over Bronx.
Masturbator, prisoner of war. Hospice of the Holy Roman Empire.
Numerous blue notes: the 3 flat, 7 flat, 5 flat,
the 6 flat and the 2 flat too. I don't get
what Wallace Stevens means by imagination.
When groundhog shows up as a totem, there is opportunity
to explore the mystery of death without dying.
This then is the purpose of purposelessness (and of eating less)!
Now what about that wound that never heals.

The Skeptical Observer column in Scientific American
was somewhat alarming when he accepted a paranormal
explanation for how his wife's grandfather's inoperable
transistor radio played music from its hiding spot
in his sock drawer on, and only on, their wedding day.
Now I'll have to believe my father (or mother!) is watching me
perform private ****** acts with (or without) partners
or that they could even know my thoughts. Or aliens
are attending our committee meetings and making
perfectly reasonable decisions given the available information
and the world is rotating just fine without humans.
These possibilities - angels, ghosts, aliens - are better
than holocaust and genocide. In this way,
and only in this way, does doom become endurable.
The wound that never heals in the end is all you'll feel.

Uhh,..(I can't sleep3)..(I'm up,Yeah2)..Uhh, Yeah..(I can't sleep3)..I gotta stay grinding more yeah..Uhh..(no I can't sleep6)..I (can't sleep3), I gotta keep writing till I'm dead & gone,yeah..Aye..(I can't sleep6),can't sleep...I gotta keep working hard .Aye..(no I can't sleep3)..(I can't sleep3), (can't sleep.3).Imma keep rolling *** , sativa..Aye..(I can't sleep, no I can't sleep4)..,I gotta keep grinding yeah, some more..,.Uhh, Yeah..(I can't sleep3)...no (I can't sleep.3)
No I can't homie..yeah I'm doing the most, Yeah..,
/I (can't sleep2)/3.
(I can't sleep3)..Insomnia, Yeah,..(I can't sleep3)..I gotta lot of moves & money to make,& I'm in pursuit homie..I can't sleep..I'm up..Yeah

Ayo, I'm spitting this dope man listen up..Ayo yeah I'm spitting the truth my ***** so blast this **** loud..Uhh


I'm in my Trap man, rapping & packaging this hard to flood the streets wit, I'm investing in my tounge *****,..I'm slanging dope with communication, Yeah my language, ***** its a craft to do what I'm doing,.. I'm so good with writing raps..I should apply to Atlanta Art Institution, (I can't sleep2)..(I'm up2)..man I'm too focus, I'm so hungry, physically & mentally Yeah,..(I can't sleep2)..(I'm up2)..just like a crack fein chasing after its last high mane,..I'm tryna get higher, I'm so tired of rolling  ****** up, so I'm grinding, so I can have alot of dat funky stuff up in my brain, no I can't get enough of the funk my *****..Yeah,Yeah

I'm in full speed,.. I'm going so fast homie,.. Like a  NASCAR race mane, you demons better stay outta my way or yo *** will get raned over just like what Tony Stewart did to Kevin Ward..R.I.P homie, no disrespect to his family, I'm just saying don't mess wit me..because (I don't play3)..Naw mane..I'm bout what I say,..Noo..(I don't play3)..Imma grown *** man, no baby steps no more homie..Aye
(I can't sleep2)
I'm up (all day2)..
noo
(I can't sleep2)
I got money to take & make..noo
(I can't sleep2)
I got alot of moves (to make2)..No
(I can't sleep2)
I got alot of **** (to Bake..2)
Aye..


Aye, I stay up 24/7..,I gottas to get it...I'm very impatient, I'm pushing my self to the limit, I'm pushing my self no peer pressure, **** who else gonna push me nobody else will man..Ayo
I'm inspiring the youth homie,Ayo..Im inspired by myself, mane I look in the mirror man, & be like (got ****2)..You the truth Drew, Fo show..(Yeah4).., & I ain't cocky or conceited, my ***** I motivate myself..Yeah..Aye

(I can't sleep3)..***** I'm up next..(Uhh2)..(Yeah2)..(I can't sleep2)..** I'm the best..(I can't sleep3)..***** I'm the man Yess..(I can't sleep2)..I'm up & writing hits *****,..(I can't sleep3)..,I'm grinding.. (I can't sleep3)..I'm  searching, tryna find where success lives..Yeah I'm hungry, like a lion..Aye..(I can't sleep3)..

Imma diamond, Im so fly man,..I'm so higher than anyone else,..yeah Im so unique, Ayo, Imma  g, Aye (I can't sleep3)..its so hard to get some rest like I lived (on the streets,3) Ayo, I'm tryna feed (my family3) mane,..I'm fighting for my family like John Q homie, I'm doing the impossible anybody could of done it tho, but these ****** just to ***** for the part so Im playing the role, Ayo, I'm staying true to myself always no matter what, I will never ever fold, I will never change for the fame, **** having  a fraudulent sound, forget a major label, nobody bossing me around, I'm commanding myself dawg..I'm in a position of authority no Cartman..Uhh, Imma young southern ***** wit a  Midwest Flow..,Aye, I roll up for depression, that's my medicine Yess..mane I ain't regreting nothing , I'm looking past all of the dumb **** I  ever did do, I'm growing stronger, like the Hulk , Im teaching myself control..but im still uncontrollable..Aye my rhymes make parents uncomfortable, **** it have your lil son trying dresses on, I did the best that I could do..I'm here to uplift you  & inspire, not take you to hell  dude..Uhh

(Don't try me2)..*****, OFTR we camed from nothing now all we do is get stares , the people finally starting to notice what's real, man we was famous in our minds already, (confidence,)
when the doubters & haters thought of us as a bunch of lazy *** ******..man, we was winning even before they ever started to  take notice, Aye, we was winning even tho we  took alot of losses,..OFTR we prevail, Thank God for everything without him I would never had wrote this..Ayo
You gotta learn from the past mistakes,  move past them, & try to never make them again mane dawg, never take any breaks, keep practicing, untill you fall out, & lose consciousness..never give up, & never give in , Yeah you win some, Yeah you lose some, but your heart still beats,..so keep breathing.. (Go harder, Yeah2)..*****,.. Uhh

(I can't sleep3)..,Naw (I can't sleep3)..Insomnia,.. Uhh, play this song over & over again if you  are feeling down, sad & depress ..I'll uplift ya..Uhh..,..I can't sleep

I can't sleep6..
I gotta stick to what I know.
I gotta stay on go..

I am here
through all of your pain
through all of your crying
through all of your tears

I am here
Made for you to love
Made for you to cry on
Made for you to die for

I am here
Taking all of your fears
Breaking walls with destiny
Making your world full of peace
Teaching you love

I am here
Even when you hate me
Even when you leave
Even when you hurt me, emotionally

I am still here
Here to hold you close
Here for all your mercy
Here to show you love
Here to hear your cries
Here to hear you whys
Here to love you more

I am still here
Here for all of eternity
Here for only you
Here to make your life worth while
Here to make you amused

I am here
I am still here
I will always be here
I will never leave here

I am here

This is a love letter to the greatest man I have ever known.

You were my first love. The way a young girl adores her father  — you were that for me (and so much more).  From you I learned a quiet, confident love one that attributes words to only carrying half the weight that actions do. You spoiled me with your youthful spirit. If ever I, "Chief Two Ponytails," needed to boss someone around in my play kitchen; you were always there to lovingly accept my misguided culinary decisions to serve you mud pies and plastic fruit.

There is no one who loved me more wholly.

As I grew, you grew with me teaching me endless generosity and to never get too tangled up in the details because as is all too real — life is fleeting. You were my constant and now the only time I get to spend with you is in my head. I see you in everything — the changing of the leaves, the color of red velvet cake, and toy airplanes. I was angry at time for pushing me further from you and angry at the world for spinning in your absence. I wished I could fill a balloon with your breath so that I could float away in hopes of being closer to you.

But, even in death, you have taught me the greatest lesson — that love transcends time, things mend and where you were my sunshine, you are now my stars.

I will forever strive to be a reflection of your gentle heart.
I love you like wildfire.

What do I do?
What do I say?
How did I
Get my class riled today

So much laughter
I’ve lost my power
I’m trapped in this problem
For another hour

Should I get help?
Should I shout?
This isn’t what I thought
Teaching was all about

Can class get any worse?
Is that my boss?
I’d better find a new job
Because this one is lost

This is too terrible to be true
Any longer and I’ll scream
I closed my eyes and wished for a better place,
Then I woke up from my dream

you smile in my direction and
my heart
skips
orbits have changed course,
empires fallen,
centuries passed
since you last smiled
so familiar.
warm and welcoming
waves crashing calmly against
marbled sand,
teaching my heart to beat however you direct
i am yours
a slave to love
but you are still
blinded
and oceans away
too far to
reach.

Somethings, you think about.
And know the answer before it comes.
You just seeking confirmation on the matter.

Some issues pushes us to see the truth of reality.

Somethings, are done for many reasons.
We just chose to question's the happenings.

They could be of our own making.
Or a higher force for a teaching.
Somethings just got to be outside our reaching it.

It's through growth we see maturity.
It's through growth we learn responsibilty.

And it comes from something we have done.

Something to do when you are bored.
Keeping you in suspense through out the whole time,
Not knowing what is going to happen next.
Learning new words,
Having a good time.
Teaching you something in life,
That is what reading is all about.

Luscious lovers strangled by sheets of seduction,
Is this for real or is this our thirst for another,
Do I need companionship?
Or was the **** simply not good enough,

A man on a makeshift crutch
With a dependency fed by lust
Not a ******* son,
But close to the Judas of Love,

Defying what those before me had done,
Doubting the prospects of the one
So beyond the romance and the monogamous harmony,
All I care about is the curves that caused us,

To get close enough to realize,
It’s no longer about trust,  
Since a physical attraction caused us,
To get close enough,
To experience what we can’t live without,

Is this a weakness or my evil plot?
To enjoy what I perceive,
Without the prospects of a teaching an infant to walk,

An action that caused a religious reaction,
A natural necessity once socially ingested,

We are fighting to keep from,
Regurgitating our misguided perceptions,
Of what brings you and I close enough,
To abandon those popular convictions

An extension of humanity,
The exemplification of our species physical conformity,
In the wake of a pleasure, an enjoyable experience,
Came prospects of fostering generations to show what we’ve done,

My fantasy goes beyond the seductive sheets of lust,
As I hope that my words will one day be carried with those who follow,
Those who will inherit a world of,
****** deviants,
Ego edified lunatics,
And love.

To you who has always believed in me
You have always loved me
Ever since the first time you held me

You were always sassy and sweet
You had these old wrinkly hands
That had touched so many lives

You had beautiful blue eyes
That would watch me with care
Even with your tall boney frame
hugging me so tight I didn't even care

You loved crafts
You loved teaching students
You loved me

I know it's not just about me
There were those who were closer
But I just wish you would say one more time
"I'm not bionic!"
Oh how that was your catchphrase

My bumpy taught me the word boobelachi when I was too little to remember my own age...he made it up of course, but it was and still is the word for seafaring snails for everyone in my family...My bumpy taught me how to turn a warm loaf of bread over and cut it from the bottom so you don't smush the top...it was a thing only he could know....We talk about The Cottage and The Bakery, that he and Nanny once had as if they were the only ones that ever existed...and I never cared to notice because they were the only ones I ever knew...Just like I know if I were here today, Bumpy would be yelling at me for taking time away from my work teaching here in China...He was my greatest supporter, my dearest friend, and my Bumpy...I will carry him in my heart for all of my life...and every boobelachi I see will always remind me of how much he loved us all.

Somebody once told me
no matter what you say -
if you believe it to be true -
speak it with volume
My junior year of high school
I interned for a week
teaching English to middle schoolers
they were working on the creative writing unit
classrooms covered in posters which read things like
no tears in the writer, no tears in the reader
and other good inspirational stuff
some of the kids wrote poems
others wrote short stories
others wrote I don’t know whats
but they all told a story which to them
was an essential truth of life
just waiting to be heard
and when they got up
to share in front of the class
from the shy girl in the soccer shoes
to the tall joker
they all spoke with volume
because some things
are impossible to ignore

I read a
report once
about teaching monkeys
how to use vending
machines

and they put these little coins
in the machine and out popped
a grape and the monkeys were
very smart and learned to treasure
the coins and the scientists all
jumped with glee it and made
for a great story

but as I was sitting there,
reading all this,
I kept wondering where
they thought the line was
before they stopped teaching
monkeys and started teaching
people

For if we were to build a relationship on quicksand, we would still question why it was so quick to slip away.
      Pacing through a field of daisies, running over a trail of glass, taking a leap off the high dive, landing just short of cracking your head open on the cement, laying down in a twin size bed; alone.  
     Pacing leads to heavy, uneven breathing due to all the bee stings you've acquired , the trail of glass turns into shards of broken material impaling the limbs that were made to carry you.  That leap escalates to you finally hitting the water, face first, sinking slowly to the bottom of a 12 foot pool. Yet, when the clock strikes 10 pm, you're not laying down in bed alone, you're laying down with 17 million other people that decided to end their day at the same time.    
     For when the clock strikes midnight and darkness floods in through your bedroom windows, eliminating every sign of tomorrow, silencing the sounds of the world, leaving you to battle the thoughts that won't start until half past three.  That is when alone begins.  
     All things bad are the exact motions that follow with intentions of teaching a lesson we are bound to learn but you were supposed to be a father and father, you didn't follow.  In fact, you never even tried to lead; You fled.  You ran away to the military, the coward you were, the coward you always will be, you thought that you could save millions. You were wrong, you murdered, stole, buried so many innocent lives and right before you left, you tried to part of me along.  
     It was for nine years my mother had be convinced my dad was Prince.  It was nine years before death invited itself to your dining room table.  It took you nine years to impregnate, run, marry, birth, raise, sign up, destroy.  It's been 17 years and a father is what you haven't been.  
     Ignorant sons of ******* like you are what have left 15 million of us children alone, hollow and unloved. You all open your doors wide enough for us to get a glimpse if the lives you chose to carry on, then slam the doors, leaving us to continue searching for that guiding light.  You leave us in a situation where we can't truly be mad a you for leaving because you were never there to begin with.  You left me searching for that light so I said, "to hell with you" and became it.  
     It's been 17 years and I still sit and wonder what it would have been like if I could have gotten you to stay.  17 years and a part of me still remains cold and vacant. You make me feel as if I've conformed to a life or mourning and pity as I still try to figure out if you ever had a brain or if you lost it like I've lost myself many times trying to let I'm men that would have treated me like one of their own but I couldn't because when you fled, so did my image of being held by the hands of a man that would one day walk me down the isle at my wedding. You took my image and replaced it with the un comforting thought of never being able to rest in peace because if ever, I allowed myself to get close enough, I'd slam my forehead against yours and look you dead in the eyes just long enough for you to silently absorb everything you've missed, just long enough for you to understand that you have not and never will be missed.
     Instead, the part of me that went missing in 1997 will be missed and I hope whoever finds it, takes care of it and grows to know it because I never will. And instead of walking away from you, I'll walk past you because I am a creature of transformation, I am becoming what I'm meant to be. I'll walk past you because in my past is where you deserve to be.
     I will no longer hold the grudge of wonder and jealousy against you, I will no longer try to hurt you back because hatred is just another form of caring and I fell short of caring when I was born; The daughter with a father, a father who couldn't care at all.  
                          - S. Mia
                         July 21, 2014

I used to imagine myself standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower,
or exploring whats undiscovered under the sea.

Teaching children with words of wisdom,
or singing to a crowd who adores me.

Taking a road trip across country,
or soaring through space alongside the stars.

Instead I have no dreams, but the ones that are yet to come true.

Your love ascended on me fearlessly.
I had no choice but to fall in love with your voice.
And all the loudness in my thoughts
your voice was the only one I sought.

Your love descended from me after a while.
rare connections separated.
all the times I meditated, hoping you come back down
my biggest fear awaits...your nowhere to be found.

Now your love is teaching me how to heal and be free.
There's no need to fear I'm always right here.
so I went with my instinct and let you be.
Trusting with all my soul that you'd make it back home
but you got lost and I must let you go. Go back to where you
came... I learned my lesson anyways.
ALWAYS TRUST YOUR INSTINCT

Life is the treasure and knowledge is the fire to kindle and wisdom the outcome to distill it

Poverty is taking away food from a fellow human being
Poverty is not being grateful that you have slept having eaten a comfortable meal
Poverty is going out there with a poor self image and using the presence of others to mask your inadequacy
Poverty is not knowing how divine you are, your soul content

Poverty as a woman is not being able to say how you feel and what you feel because you are afraid of rejection or disappointment
Poverty is trying to make a guy feel insecure because you yourself are insecure
Poverty is trying to have multiple ****** relations to either draw a man or men towards you or simply for the sake of trying to fuel your self esteem
Poverty is dreaming and letting the birds talk about it as a could have been
Poverty is stabbing a person you love dearly in the back
Poverty is blaming society, culture and circumstances at home for not progressing forward
Poverty is killing because you are stuck in unorderly primitive and unruly state and you do not know tranquility

Poverty is wanting things to remain the same because it protects you from growth and the awe of advancement
Poverty is living in the past and endlessly trying to change the present
Poverty is not knowing what to say because you have forgotten how to compose yourself in the presence of others
Poverty is thinking for short term satisfaction breeding inevitable lack of long term contentedness

Wealth is inviting the future fearlessly
Wealth is loving abundantly
Wealth is joining the heart's dance by yielding to emotions of pure positive vibrations
Wealth is making the heart intelligent so your desires are not  of a marginal durability
Wealth is seeking the truth because it will wash away the lies and test your bravery as it opens up the wounds and the pain of reality
Wealth is knowing that in giving a lot and asking less more than half the time; you remain abundant
  Wealth is imagining what a future 'you' would be like and in pursuit you strive to make your future self proud
Wealth is having an open mind and seeking first to understand than to be understood
Wealth is trying to find better solutions for either parties, a higher way; which healthily benefits either parties

Wealth is having someone who will support you no matter what
Wealth is sticking to divine principles because they will stand no matter what
Wealth is treating another better than you treat yourself and in essence you treat yourself as the greatest being
Wealth is being patient and persevering for good things because you will honour them as you understand what it took to earn them
Wealth is making a promise and keeping it, it boosts the progress of the whole Universe; even the promises we make to ourselves
Wealth is cleaning up after ourselves and engineering our personhood to not rely on insubstantial and baseless objectives and mantras
Wealth is taking a stand for one's own life and not waiting for a hero to pull up the yardstick
Wealth is going to the dam with a  broken rod and teaching yourself how to fish until a master comes and philosophises your decorum, approach, conduct and credo on the whole process of being independent and going out into the world,
Wealth is unlearning all of the miseducation that we have been fed since the day we were born and relearning and rewiring our psyche to be conscious and cosmically aligned with our divine purposes and use the resources around us to make the raw a tangible gem and vice versa.

Say no to poverty.
Live a sincere life of truth and meaning, we only have so much time to pay off our debts until we're rich enough to give back to the world again.

Hearing history whisper in the background

in an aural realm
I hear enkidu bled
ink
to fill the pens

of ready writers after
ever
lasting word
forms
a name
Enki, wisdom and life
flowing

into length of days
ancient
days
long

remembered, visited
in daydreams
featuring

all that may have been,
then.

Some soporific drink drunk
in old Uruk

vicareate, those in lieau of you.

Dying for you to go into the
realm
of knowns past
knowing knowns now in this

realm

make your mind reach mine.
Stand under my lines and

lean toward joy
good and calm,

gentle waves of peace
swirling fibrating threads
forming

woven things, matrices,

see the points crossed over
and under,
see the edges wound around,
to keep the rubbing of

reality from fraying ends.

did the fingers gno the math,
the ciphers we see
in carpets woven by magi
families
for centuries, ere

The Prophet were told to Read,
and he refused
to learn,

but chose to teach that which
an angel of light,

warned against by Paul the Gnostic Jew,

taught? Told to read, but never learning to do it, because angel said,
say exactly what i say...

Teachers once learned by teaching, but
never has reading been masterd
sans
sensibility of the graphemes
re
presenting the noises

common in every human ear
hearing in
sapience, abruptly

Hear!
Easy to be entreated. You have ears?
Hear.
How is never asked, why is clear; ears hear,
we all have ears.

Not all ears hear.
But eyes can learn to read, with some effort.

I magine it your task. You the first speaker of your
magic tongue-lung-teeth-lips, epiglot-tonsil-nasal

noise making system, engineered
to permit

song in accord with this, our shared realm of
noises, common.

Ha. This tale of an angel telling a messenger to read,

is this a famous story? Have I not learned of a war being
waged,
i.e. fought with stand-ins paid to fight, live or die.

Soldiers formed from hearers of empty songs
stretched to cover eyes, as well,

push and pull, hot and cold, balance value
weight and worth

imagine knowing no written tongue

you, dear reader, this book of lives in life per se,

who could see this coming?

Papyrii and clay and stone

cities are inventions of men

men who would be kings
imagined
delegating

knack for knack *** for tat

this for that all
for me,
the man wombed or un who would be

like the most high god I can imagine

ah the danger of falling into anachronism

you first must imagine, dear reader, that
writing is an invention

intended to bher the burden of learning to
remember, really,

no po'etic license claimed or blamed

famine of the written word
negates not the worth of rhyme and dance

masques and noises of roaring bulls

thrumming, thundering herds

screaming hawks, squeeling rabbits,
caw
cawing crows or ravens if that
distinction is
ever
necessary...

as the story is told, some time after ever starts.

This has been a chapter in our history,
dear reader from the times before the pictures
were scratched on the rock Sisyphus rolls.

Twixt now and then lies a realm of stories locked in idle words
never written for never having a reader
who grasped the message to the prophet,

read.

-----
Uruk, was there a ****** who watched you rise and learned
to make a city sufficiently

enslaving to raise a king from the son of a king

to the level of luxury allowing

reading all that writing demands

suggestive is the fact that the written word for C2H5OH
is a spirit ual thing caught in a word
as old as the earliest writing
remaining

alcohol, spoken now, would call for a drink in old Uruk and Akkad,
as would reference to kohl warm eyes,

be cool

as are we all, we living words spoken in times past,
listing in lusting vacuums of empty songs

ah, you shall not surely die, poor Gilga-
mesh, the net

spread in your sight, you never thought

networking and weaving were skills teachable, thus
this witty idea, the best potter makes only one pattern of ***,
all for me,
I take them a ll and feed the potter meat. Mighty hunter, am I.

I feed many with one mammoth

I am worthy of all they make with strength taken as granted

while chewing the carcass of my
****
--- here it comes,

civilization---

things in abundance might be made,
and traded
for
that which we lack the knack to make

so soon does some medium of exchange manifest

as witty inventions emerge from seeds carried from the garden

How? Now, off-scour, **** of the earth, us-all,

poor you have with you always,

we, the feeble-but-not-un-minded, people, whisper

when we sing,
shuffle when we dance, fly when we dream
and live until we die and leave mere words to live ever after in the wind,

making peace for the heirs of the earth.