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27182818 Jun 29
Stuck in complacency
Facing calamity
Suffocating disillusionment is near
Can’t you see that, my dear?

In demons you find
The strength to fight
The human trait
That gave power to fate

Greed or hunger
A malingering farce
That’s claimed your heart
Will forever linger

The worth of pretense
It’s sometimes the only defense
To claim you really are that dense
So you can stay on the fence

Recognition is the price
For a freedom to sacrifice
Shallow depths to drown
In waters all your own

Go for submission
And spare the false contrition
You’re free to instill
A truth
A worldly one, if you will
28.03.2019 (revised 06.06.2019)
Limited by something?
Keep your objectivity in front
Do not disturb yourself with emotional needs
Any types, anyone.

I know, you are uplifting
It is a lesson to anyone
I know,
You don’t misjudge anyone.

Crime is a trait
Crushes anyone
Judge by the trait
You may not know, who is driving the car.

Dr Baljit Singh
Wednesday, 1st May 2019
Joseph Zenieh Aug 2018
My Lord, is this the world for which Your Son has died?
I see myself quite lost among the wasted crowd
which men beget and throw in the thronged streets
to go towards an abyss of most dreadful sights.

Men walk along the streets in such a way
that shows they are quite prompt to fight and slay.
They show quite ruthless hearts in their vile eyes
that can shed blood just for some empty praise.

There is no place for those who are humane.
They are accused of girlish styles and brain,
and should greet first to avoid frowning looks
if not, a word when answered brings attacks.

If weak, you find no place for you to go.
All places are for those who can their power show.
You have that trait, you walk with scornful pride.
If not, your place is just the grave where you can hide.
Em MacKenzie Apr 21
I took my nails and buried them deep in my skin,
created paths and trails just to let me back in.
I haven’t known healing, maybe one day I’ll begin,
instead I’ll drown in feeling even though the water left is thin.

So take your worn out excuses
and your words that hold no weight.
I’ll be striking matches and lighting fuses,
‘cause a fire sign only knows one fate;
a blaze burning great.

Don’t mind the crying, and pay no mind to the ties,
I know when you’re lying before you even realize they’re lies.
Now a picture has been painted of a world with only one pair of footprints,
a reference that’s been tainted and shaded by the darkest tints.

So change your act just like your handles,
and there’s no morality to debate.
I’ll be striking matches and lighting candles,
‘cause a fire sign only knows one fate;
but I’ll still have to wait.

This dent in my shell;
another scar from a war
or maybe from Hell,
who can tell, anymore.
This dent in my shell;
another scar from a war
it didn’t bleed or swell,
but you know, that it’s sore.
This dent in my shell;
another scar from a war
this one is my death knell,
it shattered me down to the core.

I’ve had my heart broken so many times,
that I’m depleted of metaphors and running out of rhymes.

I took my nails and buried them deep in my skin,
created paths and trails just to let me back in.
I’m growing too old each day to never gain a win,
but you know they say nothing gold can stay, maybe next time I’ll stick with tin.

‘cause a fire sign only knows one fate;
it’s our defined trait and state.
‘cause a fire sign only knows one fate;
cremate and annihilate.
Jayesh Nov 2018
I've heard this story
The whereabouts of it, I still can’t recall
Whether from sacred scripture
Or stolen from the mouths of outsiders
Yet, despite my ailing nerve,
I do recall the tale itself

It began as most others did
In the eyes of a character
Like any other, yet somehow unique
Perhaps it was in his honest peculiarity
Or in how he would gaze out into the open
Searching for certain aspects
Hidden from those uninvited
Quite like a masked gala

He thought on topics most considered trivial
Or couldn't fathom to their relevance
Yet, to him, it was much the opposite
He cared not for the what and where
Instead focusing on the how and why;
Aspects much more involved
Filled with effort others simply avoided
However, it was amongst these wanderings
Where he began to truly feel
Just how alone he was in them

It may have been an arbitrary matter,
Especially considering his own foci
Yet, despite all he thought and felt
It lay there, forever present;
Quite the uninvited guest
To the gala he held so dear

It wasn’t simple solitude
In the dramatic musings of one considered so young
Instead, it felt akin to an old friend;
A ghost to the past he hadn't partaken in
A simple irony, one which wasn't lost to him;
Finding companionship with an emotion
Holding anything but
A thought which would elicit a whispery smile from him
In the dead of night

It was a condition he told none of
Hesitant to take advantage of others' kindness
Even if they wouldn't have perceived it thus
And while some may have considered it
Immature pride, or even stubborn regard
It was different to him
Almost as if a trait he held dear

Through the stories told, in all ages past
Many cherished his saga
A journey of discovery and novelty
Yet none knew of the man himself
His achievements acting as a veil to a fractured interior
And if you asked him
His spirit wandering in the midst of his old books and apparatus
He would smile, in that same whispery way,
Saying he would have it no other way
Wishing you were anywhere
But here
Can be
A decent state to be in
If you can still appreciate
The kindnesses you're gifted
Without so much to part with
Or to donate foreign strangers
Who have been on the receiving end
Of their fair share of dangers
When displaced in distant
Of the darkest spaces
All too often getting lost
In what I thought
Might find myself again
In Paradises's cost
Another fortune
My prerogative
Compared to millions out there like me
Who may have much more to give
Than take away
From every goodness sake
And goodest grace
The human race
Seems willing to embrace me with
Despite the dearth they make
A common trait among the masses
I am still content
To exploitate
Start out baby paint
Hands inquisitive
So relative just live
Fingers baby prints
Cherubs to stirrups
Crying than smiling
Or going frantic 

The womb over the
"Atlantic Ocean"

Her spell fingers
Has the potent
She's about to faint
The blessing their lifeline
So quaint love yourself
From birth

You're the Saint*

Art fingers bunked
into God

The world of modern
Click of the fingers
Her smartphone
Her gift of gab tone
Cute pup labs left
alone? I phone and apps

Her lips start to shrink
Does life truly stink
US debt dark ages
Her art fingers walk the
yellow pages
The triple play bait
Truly her unique trait

She's the honest most
sincere wife
And poems are her life

A birth what do you think
within the time so sublime
Light as a baby feather in
any weather birth gets beyond
A magical place admiring the love
Mother and Father with fingers like Grace
Birth fingers hearts linger how we were born to know its a natural thing
Creation and the masterpiece a love like no other begins
Lakiya May 29
I’m at peace
Deep within
Reality hit me fast
Now I see thru men

The consistent need of wanting
A woman like their mother
Not know the horrible trait they carry from
Their father

Who they say they never wanna be like
“Oh, my dad was never in my life
The streets raised me
I don’t sleep at night “

Commitment issues
Leaving these young men blind
To their OWN reality

Thinkin’ the world is theirs
Never having responsibilities
******’ every BAD ***** they see

What can you give me ?
Nah, see that **** played out

Boy ALL you did was take me out
I paid for the food and the ride
Cause you so called left your wallet at Tyrone’s house

Generosity out of my own heart
I paid my dues
Did my part

Take me on a spiritual high
Let me fly into a land with magical trees
Birds singing melodies
Elephants talkin’
Lions upright walking

I’m not angry
Nor mad
Speaking words that should’ve been said
My peace is peace
If you can’t respect that
It’s simple
Let me be

Because my spiritual journey
It’s more than ***
Worth more than money
See from my point of view
I promise the world could truly be your
You’ll be at peace too
Big Virge Jun 2018
Ya Know …..

They say … when you age …
That … you should … Stay …
….. " ACTIVE " …… !!!!! ……

Now … " Physically " …
That makes … sense to me …

But ….

NOT IF … " Mentally " …
Your Mind State's … "Captive" … !!!!!
"Reactive" … and … " Lacking " …
In Thoughts … " Attracting " …

A … " Balanced " … Life …
in … " Body and Mind " …

So …..
I KEEP … Mine …

" As in " … My Brain … !!!

" Active " … and inclined …
to ….. " elevATE " ….. !!!!!!!
and therefore … " Maintain " …
A … STRONG … Mind State … !!!!!

A Thing I … " Exhibit " …
In My … Wordplay … !!! …
Whenever … I Visit …
an … A4 Page … !!!!! …
and let … My Lyrics …
become an … " Array " …
of … Rhymes Exquisite … !!!!!
when they are … " Displayed " …

My Words become … " Active " …
whenever they're … " Acted " ...

Or Simply …. Heard ….
Via …. " Spoken Word " ….
From Me … " Big Virge " …

See …..
" Activation " … of …
… " Thought " … !!! …  
I Now …. " Explore " ….

As a way to …
KEEP …. " Active " ….
and NOT GET … " Bored " … !!!!!

As I said … Before …
I … DO NOT … Ignore … !!!
A NEED … to do … MORE …
Than Exercise … On Floors … !!!

I do that … TOO … !!!!!
But Don't … EVER ABUSE … !!!

" The Tool " …
That when … USED … !!!!!

" Activates " … Tissues …
NOT USED … by … " Fools " … ?!?

" Who " ….
DISMISS … thought … !!!
to IMPRESS … These ****** … !?!

" FLEXING " … Muscle … !!!
and … STRONG … Skin Tones …

So that they can … " Couple " …
" Activating " … Hormones … !!!!!

I'd rather be … "humble" …
Than … Activate … TUSSLES … !!!
That … DON'T BREED … Chuckles … !!!
when they … OPEN … " Dark Tunnels " …
where fellas use …. " KNUCKLES " ….

" Activating " …. TROUBLE …. !!!
because they got … " Rumbled " … !!!
when having … MORE THEN … " Cuddles " … !!!
with girls whose … " Main Trait " …
is to …. " ACTIVATE " ….
more than … Their … PROSTATE … !!!!!

See …. !!!
I … " Activate " … Levels …
"Deep Inside" … My Mental …

That Takes …..
Lead from … " The Pencils " … !!!
of … " ***** Lil' Devils " … !!!!!!!!!!!!

Therefore …
I Stay …. STRONG …. !!!!!
and … AVOID … " Problems " … !!!!!
That come from … " Loose Thongs " … !!!
and …. " Violent Wrongs " …. !!! ….

I'd Rather … Write Words … !!!
and …. " Poetic Verse " ….
That … Act like … " Prophylactics " ...
and give disease … " Collapses " … !!!!!

because … My Wordplay …
….. " Snatches " …… !!!
"Whips" … and gives out …
….. " Hangings " ….. !!!!!! …..

To Cats … " thinking " …
They … MASSIVE … ?!?
When … what they are is …
……. " TRAGIC " …… !!!!

TRAGIC ….. !!!
Little … "captives" …

Using … " Foolish " …
….. " Tactics " …..
That … put them on …
… " My Blacklist " … !!!!!!

of … Those Worthy …  of …
……. LASHES ….... !!!!!!!!!!

See Me ….
I Prey … like … MANTIS … !!!!!
or ... like man from … " Atlantis " … !!!!!!

I Pray …  
Upon … an … AXIS … !!!!!

" Symmetrical " …
and … " Balanced " … !!!!!!

Unable … to be ….
" Challenged " …. !!!!!!

That's … "Captive" … !!!
In minds now … LOST … !!!
and ……. SAVAGE ……. !!!!!!

Long After … I'm …

My words will …
Still Be … " ACTIVE " … !!!!!!

That's why I … Write …
and post … Online … !!!
So that … when I …
have … " Physically Died " …

These words I … Find …
Inside …. My Mind ….
WILL … " Stay Alive " … !!!

" IMMORTALIZED " …  !!!!!!
BEYOND …. My Life ….

That's where … My Pride …
"TRULY" …. Resides ….

In a place where …
… " Thoughts " …
CREATE … wordplay …
Beyond … The Wars …
We see … " Today " … !!!!!!

I Hope … One Day …
People …. Will Say …. ?!?

"That Big Virge Man,
played an active hand,
in the betterment of,
our race of, humans,
and left us seeds,
to activate dreams,
of finding peace,
and living for more
than, fights on streets,
and, vanity ! That Man,
for sure, wrote poetry,
that's active now,
He's no longer around !!!"

But …..
While i'm here ...
My Mind … " Adheres " …
to … " Activating Verse " … !!!
That … CLEARLY … " Hurts " … !!!

" Chickens and Jerks " … !!!!!!

whose form of … " Work " … ?!?

" Activates " … NONSENSE … !!!!!
Causing ….. PROBLEMS ….. !!!!!!!!!

I have …
An … " Active Body " …
and an … " Active Mind " … !!!

So ….
My work's …
Far From ……….  " Shoddy " ………. !!!!!!
because … It Feeds … " The Blind " …

with the kind of … "Insights" …
THAT DON'T …. Invite …. !!!!!!!!!!

to be …. " Aligned " ….
with a …. " Positive Life " …

The words … I Rhyme …
"Activate" … like … STARS ...
Shine in …. " The Night " …. !!!!!
because … from … " The Dark " …
There … MUST COME … " Light " … !!!!!

So ….
As I approach ….
These … Last few … lines …

No Time to … " Reproach " … !!!
or …… " Criticize " ……. !!! …….

because … These Words
AREN'T … " Faddish " … !!!

and won't take …. ALL ….
Your ….. " Bandwidth " ….. !!!!!

I am a … " Wordsmith " …
Whose Pen … writes …
……. " Scripts " ……….
of … TRUE LYRICS … !!!!!
... " PROACTIVE " … !!!!!

These words are …
NOT … just … " Rantings " … !!!

They're … DRIVEN … and …
…….. EXPANSIVE …….. !!!!!!!!

and … PROVE … that …
Like My … " Writtens' "

When ……  
" Big Virge " … was here …

… " Living " …

My Brain, Body & Spirit

were … " Attached " …
to being …

….. " Active " …..
Not a bad idea to stay active, hence the poem ......
Amanda Aug 2018
Ghosts in my heart won't leave
Play with feelings then hide
Drive me crazy with unseen tricks
Patience a trait hard to find

Sanity dwindling swiftly down
Falling into an abyss of madness
A vision created with perfection in mind
Deciphered into instructions for false happiness

Remain alive, blueprints collapsing
Dark shadows in my peripheral appear
Asphalt scented with burning regret
Heated by sun, cooled by tears

Left foot in the entryway
Other on the shaking ground
Walk through the threshold
Eyes closed, waiting to be found

As if I am an item worth searching for
Know there's no one looking for me
Pain, sadness, damaged self-esteem
All anyone ever sees

It is 1AM and I'm falling apart
Sheets really constrict and choke
A night lasts an eternity
Swimming in regret and soaked
Ghosts of the past keep haunting me
jeffrey conyers Sep 2018
So, he's a cheater.
So he's wealthy.
What's so strange to admit to many?
Women not all innocent in these scandals.

You cry Me-too or Me-three and it still is various takes on the matter.

Whether it's the comedian
The movie mogul.
Or the reddish clown of the United States.

In all situation, we notice some took money to quiet them into silence.

Now, they claiming this and claiming that.

But like many say in silence or around select friends.
Women, not all innocent in these matters.

Some people do anything for money.
And then we spin the tale before the press that goes into instant judgment.

Now, what kind of *** that a fool would pay 130, 000 most men can't state?
Some guys would tell her to call the Wahington Post, New York Time, and any other paper.

Wouldn't any money be paid?
Then we aware this a trait this man has in paying for the pleasure.

Do we feel this level to say the man to blame?
Deals, mainly with many ladies jumping on this "It happened to me too".
And some has the honest truth.

But then you go back to the seventies on one of the accusers.
Club 54 was more than a club for dancing and fun.
It was also a place to venture for joy.

Be at a man house when the spouse not there.
But that neither here or there.
Cause once accused many men can't win.

Even when in her mind she knew what you had planned.

In scriptures, Samson was a complete fooled.
The woman used all kinds of tricks to get the information she needed.
And in the in he came to regret it.
Aria Apr 5
I accept me,
I know exactly who and how I am,
One would call that ‘ self-aware ’,
Though I would be the first to arrive if they ever did a self-hatred fair,
Insults of myself, I can name many,
Compliments, now that’s gonna take me a century,
If anyone ever tries to belittle me, I’d probably agree,
“No one can insult me better than me”, I’d say proudly.

Giving out love is something I’m good at,
Receiving it was always questionable ,
Feeling awkward because I never understood why,
I get that they care, it’s not that I think it’s a lie,
Just that doubts keeps piling up like bills,
And my mind has become a landfill,
Where every step I take is a step closer to my anxiety,
That will swallow me up with no mercy.

Why do I blame myself for everything?
I’m so forgiving but yet not to me?
Spreading self love, it kinda comes along with my trait of being righteous,
But I’m no where near to being the greatest,
Everyone has themselves to fall back on,
For me, it’s just a trust fall with no one to rely on,
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate myself,
I just don’t love myself.
arielle Jul 2018
staying up late just thinking of all the could-beens and should-beens that could and should have been us.

what if we'd tried a little harder? persisted a little longer? held on to each other as tightly as we should have?
would you be by my side then, instead of the empty void staring tauntingly back at me?
would our hands be clasped together, interwoven,
your eyes that once bored right back into the back of mind haunting me wherever i would go,
your touch tattooed into the skin of my palms as they once were?

what if i hadn't let go?
what if i'd learnt fate's cruel lesson that
possessing the trait of fickleness never awarded anything but everything slipping past, earlier?
would you be willing to stay with me then, and forgive me for all the wrongdoings that i would inevitably cause?
would we have ever evolved into more than just an idealized dream drawn from a fragmented memory,
the idea of an irrevocable love that despite having been mulled over for what would've seemed like an eternity,
has never seen the light of reality before?

then again, everything does appear only better when it's all in your head.
when i can still pretend that you are who i expect you to be,
and i may be accepted for who i am truly,
excess baggage of unneeded insecurities and imperfections weighing me down and all.

is it better to be cleanly rejected or to be
torn down bit by bit,
night by night,
spent just staring at a blank screen and waiting,
hovering over imperishably,
pure naive hope fuelling the drive to continue delaying the inexorable?
foolishly believing that crossed fingers and
any lingering feelings that hadn't yet been sieved away by the
jaded culture we exist and drown in today
would perhaps, even if accidentally,
as if out of a fairytale that i starkly don't belong to,
send me a text back?
not entirely sure if i'm doing this right but yeah
Isolation is the basis for cerebral control.
Ideologies to be shifted, for that is the goal.

No Vulcan mind melds to rediscover ones sense.
Plot a course and sail, there's no need for recompense.

A common trait is shared between energy and water.
The path of least resistance, always colder never hotter.

Newton's second law; the time rate change of momentum.
But how can force equal love? Let's apply an addendum.

As velocity increases, so does dilation of time.
Just keep your seat belt fastened, all things will be fine.

And now you've been conditioned to accept what you were told.
So close your eyes, just relax, fortune persists among the bold.
May 16, 2019
So that the man does not lose his respect
Cooking at home shall bound him
If you still put him in the undue flat environment
It will still be sick for him

Crime never understands right
Cooking at home is a metaphor for freedom
The freedom I’m talking is not death
It is free from exploitations

Including, religious slavery
Where the human does not feel greeting the humans
Rather began decorating himself
With gold plated wrist watches

It smells misery
Also in the modern city, modern time
Not providing water in the scorching heat to human still be a trait
I asked to do the survey

To enjoy freedom
Sometimes; I stop listening to the recordings or put and go walking
It helps me knowing
Do they greet humans or they still live slavery?

Dr Baljit Singh
Friday, 19th April 2019
John Shahul Nov 2018
What avails of this sidereal year?
If not my love with me ever.

What if the flowers spread and disperse?
Even they make the earth paradise.

What though sweetest your incessant loving be?
If now you're receding from me.

What lies behind your heart to reside far?
To me it seems all, you rift through the clouds like a lone star.
Is it a gentle pride?
It’s your fallacy my beautiful bride!

Afraid of your restless youth and irresistible trait,
I am drawn so close to you; so no one can drift us apart.
My thoughts in your mind should often come across
A timeless true love in your mind brighter than luminous stars
That you never forget.

Playing hot and cold never dishearten the resolute.
Give and take in love is an enchanted gift
Never drift away from true love otherwise pain will grow in rift.

Where have you been all this while?
Your sweet incessant love beguile.

Setting moon besets, between us flitting moments
Wretchedness came upon in disappointments.
The days, the moments and the years all unfetched begone.
All this time, our feelings had never lain dormant and forlorn
There you dear staring at me willingly,
Yet looking upon your grace continually.
7 eight 9
And I was next in line
The next time
You see those lines
Crease on the shell of my mind
And you find
That I've shut the blinds of my eyes
Understand that one trait of my kind
Is that we get eaten up all the time
Being young in an industry of old folks with even older ideas of what you are and should be.....Sigh
Where's this abject
anger come from?

Is it innate or
is it
an acquired trait?

Who owns these lips
grinning at gains?

Out comes the wolf?
Out comes the hominid.

Who owns these tongues
dripping silver?

Produce and consume.
That's how it is.

What an art it is
to dispel doom.

Tried selling concepts?
That's where it is.
You are worthy of Nobel Prize
All goodness has a similar eye
You are a human born trait
You don’t have a gallop greed glamour eyes

History repeats itself
Some took souls to gas chambers
Some died in thirst
You are a true soldier; said mother’s eye.

The Employer asked his team; who to employ?

Dr Baljit Singh
Thursday, 7th March 2019
they bend and stretch,
this way and that,
in the most unusual
poses, but they're alive,
picking through garbage.

the man had had a really
nice dream the night before,
of a time of before, when
life was so much more than
picking through what was
refuse to others, refuse to
him, and to her, back before.

but these dreams don't
bother him; they both live
in a world without hope,
even quite literally, truth,
living right up to the edge
of the large areas of the world
considered still too radioactive
for human life, so dreams of
before are always very
welcome for them all,
as are memories; they live
now in a world where dreams
and memories are the only good
things to live for still, but because
of a lack of good things, the joy
contained in dreams, in memories,
are many times more potent in a
normal man or woman from before,
so even without hope, people still
enjoy talking about the old days,
and storytelling again takes an almost
central role in these brand new societies,
that are actually a continuation of at least
from 30,000 BC from a total of around 200,000
years, and likely going back many more tens
of thousands of years, so, it's in their blood, our
very genetics, our evolutionary make-up, and
maybe their mess began exactly because there
were no big story-tellers being heard, not for
many continuing generations, not speaking of
whatever great social ills may have been
prevalent in their day, nor leading rallying
cries that made a difference in changing
government social policies, not heard like
a woody guthrie or a john lennon, and so much
further beyond and behind them, not in
the last few decades before the War,
the great voices were still out there,
if you're into your local music scene,
you'll probably get it, when you've
really heard it, and done well, that
reflects back to an audience exactly
what that audience is not maybe
thinking, but what they are feeling
as a whole, those feelings that last
sometimes a lifetime's length, the
ones like from rejoicing to mourning,
or from happy to sad, or mourning back
into rejoicing, and sad back into happy once
more, those voices were still out there, but it's
just that no-one could hear anymore, addicted
to their platforms, their own artificially constructed
lives carefully crafted to project outward, as deeply as
any ****** or blow or any other addiction one could
think of, they all filled their lives ever more with
trivialities, our hearing the storytellers remind
them of their purpose, and all those afflicted
by that culture shared little blame, it
seemed to shift at some point in a
fundamental way from a general
what's good for my world? to a
what's good for my religion?" to a
what's good for my country?* to a
what's good for my family? to a totally
exclusive what's good for me?, instead
of that proven much better an even balance
between the all of these, rather than too
much an extreme on any end of any
spectrum, like picking from a complete
spectrum of every colours, but only picking
those hues at the extreme edges, leaving so
much beauty unfulfilled, and so sadly unused,
so many crayons left melted in the crayola box.

but none of that matters at all anymore,
there is no left or no right, no ideologies,
no selfies, no rat-race, no rich, no poor
just all one thing now, survivors, that
as promised would envy the dead, add
but again, what's good for him and for her
are their dreams, like his last night's,
or any of his memories, even the ones
that without the stark comparison of
here and now seemed horrible, of trying
to guess how on earth all these millions
of small factors, how that vile mixture
was made that got them to the point of
the mutually assured destruction that
was designed to prevent it from ever
happening, just as in dr. strangelove,
if for no other than the most important
reason in all human history now, after
before, how to make sure never to let
whatever those factors were that most
made war come upon them no matter the
human cost, that they never be ever
allowed to ever take root, if the human
race even survives at all, which is still
very much in question.

they keep walking even after it is starting
to get dark, looking for a fresh vein of whatever
food they can possibly find, staking out the area
for a thorough 6-feet down over plot between the
four bright yellow luminescent plastic government
issued poles bright and early tomorrow; people work
really really hard in this time as a rule, of necessity,
long hours, so when the day is done, and the mind
again has time to wander, they will wash and lay
out tomorrow's meagre choice of garments to
wear the next day, have a light bedtime snack
if they have anything to eat, or looking forward
to what is now the only sure meal of the day,
and thus the biggest, lunch time, to help people
with the best gift from the one group of their own
that had betrayed them all the most, the politicians,
those who still ran the show, and they realize how close
their democracies often got in, as too far in areas too often
also, but they still need them, and giving them the midday
fuel to scavenge to struggle to keep themselves from
completely starving to death, all of that, lost in
another memory myself now, the work infecting
the author, or is it reflecting the author, hmm,
but all of this is infectious i must admit,
but, yes, my point way back there was
the people work themselves deliberately
and for only the reward of keeping body
and soul together one more day, or week,
but also so they can run and jump and slide
right up to the soft body of their lover dream,
or the the hard body of their lover dream, it
doesn't matter who likes which, but snuggling
in with affection near spilling over the edges of
your heart like a 2nd type of madness, a madness
not of thoughts, but of feelings, a manic heart patient,
philosophically speaking, with the greatest lover
you've ever had, or will have, your perfect lover,
the lover you would pick like building a sims
character, with your perfect preference looks,
like ideal eye colour & type, hair colour & type,
every physical detail, and every personality trait,
but we have all kind of done that in real life at
least once, and realized even when someone
else checks so many boxes, like that line from
500 days of summer when the guy's little
'tween buddha little sister who gives him
advice said something like, look, just because
a pretty girl is into all the same ****** ****
you are doesn't mean her your soul mate,
but when this lover checks every box
in the yes column dream, and not one
box in the no column dream, that's the
type of thing that can't be ignored no
matter how hard a human being can
try now, so they all share the one same
lover above any other, their dreams,
because though they still have some
to be grateful for in their immediate
lives, they still breathe, it is a harsher
world now that ever could be before
easily imagined, and they all rush
as one to their lover's arms each
night, as almost in unison for those
of them in the majority working Main
Shift, the best pickers given the best
light from the sun, and all is shared
back to the community, so the elderly,
orphans, or otherwise infirm in some
way all get the best share, because they
have already otherwise paid a cost that
strangely wasn't noticed in the before,
and then it's true love dream the greatest
of all dreams forever and ever dream, just the
dream of a time before what every single language
that still exists as a living language, and
many, many were lost, but each one of
them calls the War the Catastrophe,
even those languages to whom the
word catastrophe already had a strong
link to another event, this was likely not just
the very worst thing that hadn't yet happened
to them before it of course did, but the very worst
thing that will ever even happen in their world, period,
not because of some mass enlightenment,
though there does seem to be one of those
incidentally as well, but because at looking
at the scarred and some areas forever mortally
wounded, including startlingly enough, every
specifically targeted areas on every continent
known for their high agricultural yields,
from the Great Plains in North America,
and Ukraine in Europe, to Iraq in Eurasia,
to Egypt in North Africa, to places you'd
never heard of mostly, and with that best
of the last arable land already gone (fighting over
water supplies in more arid lands is what
triggered the War), any hope is thoroughly
misplaced, and though even he would
always feel guilty of it, war seemed the
answer to him once, too, before the one to
really end all others, for the human race
will most likely be extinguished just due to
irreparably damaged DNA where in not too
many generations, those where any people
can still even communicate in some sort of small
way will dwindle and dwindle, being the very
most fringe minority no matter how deep one was,
no matter how safe one thought they were,
mere generations because the heart will still want
what the heart has always, it can't be controlled, there
will be no more war because there will be no
more people. he remembers it happened on that
really big celebration of the anniversary of
d-day, the big d-day centenary, the day that
social disorder, just as in 1848, spread as quickly
as the real huge forest fires they have everywhere
now, today, and my story is getting more and more
mixed in with life, just one more new fact of a new life,
when all the new dictatorships sprung up in some of the
most unlikely of spots to end in all-out thermonuclear
warfare world wide, all on live feed... it feels somehow
ironic that the vast majority of those who instantly
vapourized in the very first wave of a much more
extended war than anyone would have guessed,
but the greatest casualty list by far, were themselves
watching it all happen and be commentated on by
talking heads in big newsrooms, instead of using
those last precious moments to say goodbye to
some loved-one, everyone has at least one,
but they were addicts right to the end
of the time before when the very
word cellphone, and the concept
of it even be almost knowingly
forgotten, as so many others,
and now sweetest sleep has
grabbed hold of both of them
after an hour or two of intimacy
just for them alone, and their
greater lover always dream, awaits
them already, arms wide open, beckoning
calling out to them all, each by name, all of
them left, for in dream lies the
last link to anything normal.
i took a psych class once, i forget which one, but we watched a documentary on dream study done with former concentration camp, and true death camps, like Birkenau the notorious Auschwitz sub-camp that exterminated m such a thoroughly organized fashion, too, what did people in such trauma dream of (i'd have guessed they would have horrific nightmares and terrors each evening), and it turns out 100% of them reported having the most marvelous dreams of their lives, like a pressure valve for the incredibly intense misery on a seemingly unending day by day fashion, their dreams were unparalleled in how marvelous they were. And after watching Chernobyl, reading old government documents on what day to day life would likely be like for the survivors of a fullest exchange of nuclear weapons with the old CCCP, and that seemed to me to the closest thing to hell as far as living would go, so I thought their dreams would have to be pretty great, too.
Say ****.
Images of a man instantly appear to the mind.
Say side-chick and many see it as a lover on the side.

Still, she is a MISTRESS.
So why use term side-chick like its some lesser trait?

She is pimping him because she got the tools required to do it.
Many women played the pimping game to get ahead.
Even use it as leverage now.

**** need employees to operate firmly in profits.
Which makes many wonders why many women in the game give him the money?
You the one working at the labor stress relief.

Then there's the Body pleaser that taken very well of by the females seeking joy behind the spouse back.
Being **** to satisfy his moneymaker.

Take heed, what in the news today?
Will be in the news in the future.

Many pimping their way through colleges.
My sweet love,
A transformation is going to take place. I am no longer the same girl anymore, I can feel myself changing into a woman with much stronger values. If you do not recognize the energy that drains my soul, people who think they can rearrange my world, the ones who play inside my head and what really wears me down then maybe you're not my love afterall.

Maybe I'm doing it again... allowing my words to be arranged into ways my soul would never abide by. You are my love, I love you. However, on this journey of mine I'm terrified that simply just wont do.

As I feel myself growing into the woman I am meant to be, I've realized there are alot more things I need now. I used to think I would never be able to live without love. Now I have just that & you all to myself, and I'm afraid it just isnt enough. Every other inch of my body is still aching for needs to be met , so here I am with you and its lovely but what about passion.. ?

what about being determined to discover each and every last spec of eachothers stardust & what about driving one another to achieve our goals? I want companionship in worshipping our bodies & not only eachothers but our own. I simply just want someone beside me nurturing me & helping me grow.

I want encouragement in a lover to manifest & create, otherwise i am only  being held back. I am so over putting my life on hold just to sit here and live in your room with you, I can't believe you watched me become so consumed in your life of drugs/alcohol then in the end it's my fault for having us not workout.

I moved here to be with you & you never ensured that I lead a happy life here. I'm sick of hearing "you do you"! Isn't that what people do who are living independently do? What exactly is the point of a partnership if one just gets so consumed in the others life with zero foundation to build a life together on?

In some ways, maybe even most, I am at fault here. I could have made better choices. However, it would have been nice to experience a life with you where I felt wanted in more ways than watching netflix and being a fuckfriend when we go & get trashed for the billionth weekend in a row.

I am so excited to gain control over my own life again & I'm sorry that communication wasn't always my strongest trait, still I would have done more to ensure your happiness. <\♡

I hope maybe you realize one day after I run away and fall in love with myself again that I would have wanted to be so much more for you.
Maybe I'm young and inexperienced & it may have seemed like I depended on you too much, I was only ever in love.

I hope one day when you see the woman I become, you'll realize that. I still hope when this is all over and I'm down by the river living my summer to the fullest that you will reach out and we can start over.

It's just that, I wont come back to sit in your room & be expected to just be happy all on my own.

Don't you see the difference?
Happy alone
Unhappy "together".


I hope you learned a thing or two.
#love #depression #heartache #letter
Victor D López Dec 2018
You were born five years before the Spanish Civil War that would see your father exiled.
Language came later to you than your little brother Manuel. And you stuttered for a time.
Unlike those who speak incessantly with nothing to say, you were quiet and reserved.
Your mother mistook shyness for dimness, a tragic mistake that scarred you for life.

When your brother Manuel died at the age of three from meningitis, you heard your mom
Exclaim: “God took my bright boy and left me the dull one.” You were four or five.
You never forgot those words. How could you? Yet you loved your mom with all your heart.
But you also withdrew further into a shell, solitude your companion and best friend.

You were, in fact, an exceptional child. Stuttering went away at five or so never to return,
And by the time you were in middle school, your teacher called your mom in for a rare
Conference and told her that yours was a gifted mind, and that you should be prepared
For university study in the sciences, particularly engineering.

She wrote your father exiled in Argentina to tell him the good news, that your teachers
Believed you would easily gain entrance to the (then and now) highly selective public university
Where seats were few, prized and very difficult to attain based on merit-based competitive
Exams. Your father’s response? “Buy him a couple of oxen and let him plow the fields.”

That reply from a highly respected man who was a big fish in a tiny pond in his native Oleiros
Of the time is beyond comprehension. He had apparently opted to preserve his own self-
Interest in having his son continue his family business and also work the family lands in his
Absence. That scar too was added to those that would never heal in your pure, huge heart.

Left with no support for living expenses for college (all it would have required), you moved on,
Disappointed and hurt, but not angry or bitter; you would simply find another way.
You took the competitive exams for the two local military training schools that would provide
An excellent vocational education and pay you a small salary in exchange for military service.

Of hundreds of applicants for the prized few seats in each of the two institutions, you
Scored first for the toughest of the two and thirteenth for the second. You had your pick.
You chose Fabrica de Armas, the lesser of the two, so that a classmate who had scored just
Below the cut-off at the better school could be admitted. That was you. Always and forever.

At the military school, you were finally in your element. You were to become a world-class
Machinist there—a profession that would have gotten you well paid work anywhere on earth
For as long as you wanted it. You were truly a mechanical genius who years later would add
Electronics, auto mechanics and specialized welding to his toolkit through formal training.

Given a well-stocked machine shop, you could reverse engineer every machine without
Blueprints and build a duplicate machine shop. You became a gifted master mechanic
And worked in line and supervisory positions at a handful of companies throughout your life in
Argentina and in the U.S., including Westinghouse, Warner-Lambert, and Pepsi Co.

You loved learning, especially in your fields (electronics, mechanics, welding) and expected
Perfection in everything you did. Every difficult job at work was given to you everywhere you
Worked. You would not sleep at night when a problem needed solving. You’d sketch
And calculate and re-sketch solutions and worked even in your dreams with singular passion.

You were more than a match for the academic and physical rigors of military school,
But life was difficult for you in the Franco era when some instructors would
Deprecatingly refer to you as “Roxo”—Galician for “red”-- reflecting your father’s
Support for the failed Republic. Eventually, the abuse was too much for you to bear.

Once while standing at attention in a corridor with the other cadets waiting for
Roll call, you were repeatedly poked in the back surreptitiously. Moving would cause
Demerits and demerits could cause loss of points on your final grade and arrest for
Successive weekends. You took it awhile, then lost your temper.

You turned to the cadet behind you and in a fluid motion grabbed him by his buttoned jacket
And one-handedly hung him up on a hook above a window where you were standing in line.
He thrashed about, hanging by the back of his jacket, until he was brought down by irate Military instructors.
You got weekend arrest for many weeks and a 10% final grade reduction.

A similar fate befell a co-worker a few years later in Buenos Aires who called you a
*******. You lifted him one handed by his throat and held him there until
Your co-workers intervened, forcibly persuading you to put him down.
That lesson was learned by all in no uncertain terms: Leave Felipe’s mom alone.

You were incredibly strong, especially in your youth—no doubt in part because of rigorous farm
Work, military school training and competitive sports. As a teenager, you once unwisely bent
Down to pick something up in view of a ram, presenting the animal an irresistible target.
It butted you and sent you flying into a haystack. It, too, quickly learned its lesson.

You dusted yourself off, charged the ram, grabbed it by the horns and twirled it around once,
Throwing it atop the same haystack as it had you. The animal was unhurt, but learned to
Give you a wide berth from that day forward. Overall, you were very slow to anger absent
Head-butting, repeated pokings, or disrespectful references to your mom by anyone.    

I seldom saw you angry and it was mom, not you, who was the disciplinarian, slipper in hand.
There were very few slaps from you for me. Mom would smack my behind with a slipper often
When I was little, mostly because I could be a real pain, wanting to know/try/do everything
Completely oblivious to the meaning of the word “no” or of my own limitations.

Mom would sometimes insist you give me a proper beating. On one such occasion for a
Forgotten transgression when I was nine, you  took me to your bedroom, took off your belt, sat
Me next to you and whipped your own arm and hand a few times, whispering to me “cry”,
Which I was happy to do unbidden. “Don’t tell mom.” I did not. No doubt she knew.

The prospect of serving in a military that considered you a traitor by blood became harder and
Harder to bear, and in the third year of school, one year prior to graduation, you left to join
Your exiled father in Argentina, to start a new life. You left behind a mother and two sisters you
Dearly loved to try your fortune in a new land. Your dog thereafter refused food, dying of grief.

You arrived in Buenos Aires to see a father you had not seen for ten years at the age of 17.
You were too young to work legally, but looked older than your years (a shared trait),
So you lied about your age and immediately found work as a Machinist/Mechanic first grade.
That was unheard of and brought you some jealousy and complaints in the union shop.

The union complained to the general manager about your top-salary and rank. He answered,
“I’ll give the same rank and salary to anyone in the company who can do what Felipe can do.”
No doubt the jealousy and grumblings continued by some for a time. But there were no takers.
And you soon won the group over, becoming their protected “baby-brother” mascot.

Your dad left for Spain within a year or so of your arrival when Franco issued a general pardon
To all dissidents who had not spilt blood (e.g., non combatants). He wanted you to return to
Help him reclaim the family business taken over by your mom in his absence with your help.
But you refused to give up the high salary, respect and independence denied you at home.

You were perhaps 18 and alone, living in a single room by a schoolhouse you had shared with Your dad.
But you had also found a new loving family in your uncle José, one of your father’s Brothers, and his family. José, and one of his daughters, Nieves and her
Husband, Emilio, and
Their children, Susana, Oscar (Ruben Gordé), and Osvaldo, became your new nuclear family.

You married mom in 1955 and had two failed business ventures in the quickly fading
Post-WW II Argentina of the late 1950s and early 1960s.The first, a machine shop, left
You with a small fortune in unpaid government contract work.  The second, a grocery store,
Also failed due to hyperinflation and credit extended too easily to needy customers.

Throughout this, you continued earning an exceptionally good salary. But in the mid 1960’s,
Nearly all of it went to pay back creditors of the failed grocery store. We had some really hard
Times. Someday I’ll write about that in some detail. Mom went to work as a maid, including for
Wealthy friends, and you left home at 4:00 a.m. to return long after dark to pay the bills.

The only luxury you and mom retained was my Catholic school tuition. There was no other
Extravagance. Not paying bills was never an option for you or mom. It never entered your
Minds. It was not a matter of law or pride, but a matter of honor. There were at least three very
Lean years where you and mom worked hard, earned well but we were truly poor.

You and mom took great pains to hide this from me—and suffered great privations to insulate
Me as best you could from the fallout of a shattered economy and your refusal to cut your loses
Had done to your life savings and to our once-comfortable middle-class life.
We came to the U.S. in the late 1960s after waiting for more than three years for visas—to a new land of hope.

Your sister and brother-in-law, Marisa and Manuel, made their own sacrifices to help bring us
Here. You had about $1,000 from the down payment on our tiny down-sized house, And
Mom’s pawned jewelry. (Hyperinflation and expenses ate up the remaining mortgage payments
Due). Other prized possessions were left in a trunk until you could reclaim them. You never did.

Even the airline tickets were paid for by Marisa and Manuel. You insisted upon arriving on
Written terms for repayment including interest. You were hired on the spot on your first
Interview as a mechanic, First Grade, despite not speaking a word of English. Two months later,
The debt was repaid, mom was working too and we moved into our first apartment.

You worked long hours, including Saturdays and daily overtime, to remake a nest egg.
Declining health forced you to retire at 63 and shortly thereafter you and mom moved out of
Queens into Orange County. You bought a townhouse two hours from my permanent residence
Upstate NY and for the next decade were happy, traveling with friends and visiting us often.

Then things started to change. Heart issues (two pacemakers), colon cancer, melanoma,
Liver and kidney disease caused by your many medications, high blood pressure, gout,
Gall bladder surgery, diabetes . . . . And still you moved forward, like the Energizer Bunny,
Patched up, battered, scarred, bruised but unstoppable and unflappable.

Then mom started to show signs of memory loss along with her other health issues. She was
Good at hiding her own ailments, and we noticed much later than we should have that there
Was a serious problem. Two years ago, her dementia worsening but still functional, she had
Gall bladder surgery with complications that required four separate surgeries in three months.

She never recovered and had to be placed in a nursing home. Several, in fact, as at first she
Refused food and you and I refused to simply let her waste away, which might have been
Kinder, but for the fact that “mientras hay vida, hay esperanza” as Spaniards say.
(While there is Life there is hope.) There is nothing beyond the power of God. Miracles do happen.

For two years you lived alone, refusing outside help, engendering numerous arguments about
Having someone go by a few times a week to help clean, cook, do chores. You were nothing if
Not stubborn (yet another shared trait). The last argument on the subject about two weeks ago
Ended in your crying. You’d accept no outside help until mom returned home. Period.

You were in great pain because of bulging discs in your spine and walked with one of those
Rolling seats with handlebars that mom and I picked out for you some years ago. You’d sit
As needed when the pain was too much, then continue with very little by way of complaints.
Ten days ago you finally agreed that you needed to get to the hospital to drain abdominal fluid.

Your failing liver produced it and it swelled your abdomen and lower extremities to the point
Where putting on shoes or clothing was very difficult, as was breathing. You called me from a
Local store crying that you could not find pants that would fit you. We talked, long distance,
And I calmed you down, as always, not allowing you to wallow in self pity but trying to help.

You went home and found a new pair of stretch pants Alice and I had bought you and you were
Happy. You had two changes of clothes that still fit to take to the hospital. No sweat, all was
Well. The procedure was not dangerous and you’d undergone it several times in recent years.
It would require a couple of days at the hospital and I’d see you again on the weekend.

I could not be with you on Monday, February 22 when you had to go to the hospital, as I nearly
Always had, because of work. You were supposed to be admitted the previous Friday, but
Doctors have days off too, and yours could not see you until Monday when I could not get off
Work. But you were not concerned; this was just routine. You’d be fine. I’d see you in just days.

We’d go see mom Friday, when you’d be much lighter and feel much better. Perhaps we’d go
Shopping for clothes if the procedure still left you too bloated for your usual clothes.
You drove to your doctor and then transported by ambulette. I was concerned, but not too Worried.
You called me sometime between five or six p.m. to tell me you were fine, resting.

“Don’t worry. I’m safe here and well cared for.” We talked for a little while about the usual
Things, with my assuring you I’d see you Friday or Saturday. You were tired and wanted to sleep
And I told you to call me if you woke up later that night or I’d speak to you the following day.
Around 10:00 p.m. I got a call from your cell and answered in the usual upbeat manner.

“Hey, Papi.” On the other side was a nurse telling me my dad had fallen. I assured her she was
Mistaken, as my dad was there for a routine procedure to drain abdominal fluid. “You don’t
Understand. He fell from his bed and struck his head on a nightstand or something
And his heart has stopped. We’re working on him for 20 minutes and it does not look good.”

“Can you get here?” I could not. I had had two or three glasses of wine shortly before the call
With dinner. I could not drive the three hours to Middletown. I cried. I prayed.
Fifteen minutes Later I got the call that you were gone. Lost in grief, not knowing what to do, I called my wife.
Shortly thereafter came a call from the coroner. An autopsy was required. I could not see you.

Four days later your body was finally released to the funeral director I had selected for his
Experience with the process of interment in Spain. I saw you for the last time to identify
Your body. I kissed my fingers and touched your mangled brow. I could not even have the
Comfort of an open casket viewing. You wanted cremation. You body awaits it as I write this.

You were alone, even in death alone. In the hospital as strangers worked on you. In the medical
Examiner’s office as you awaited the autopsy. In the autopsy table as they poked and prodded
And further rent your flesh looking for irrelevant clues that would change nothing and benefit
No one, least of all you. I could not be with you for days, and then only for a painful moment.

We will have a memorial service next Friday with your ashes and a mass on Saturday. I will
Never again see you in this life. Alice and I will take you home to your home town, to the
Cemetery in Oleiros, La Coruña, Spain this summer. There you will await the love of your life.
Who will join you in the fullness of time. She could not understand my tears or your passing.

There is one blessing to dementia. She asks for her mom, and says she is worried because she
Has not come to visit in some time. She is coming, she assures me whenever I see her.
You visited her every day except when health absolutely prevented it. You spent this February 10
Apart, your 61st wedding anniversary, too sick to visit her. Nor was I there. First time.

I hope you did not realize you were apart on the 10th but doubt it to be the case. I
Did not mention it, hoping you’d forgotten, and neither did you. You were my link to mom.
She cannot dial or answer a phone, so you would put your cell phone to her ear whenever I
Was not in class or meetings and could speak to her. She always recognized me by phone.

I am three hours from her. I could visit at most once or twice a month. Now even that phone
Lifeline is severed. Mom is completely alone, afraid, confused, and I cannot in the short term at
Least do much about that. You were not supposed to die first. It was my greatest fear, and
Yours, but as with so many things that we cannot change I put it in the back of my mind.

It kept me up many nights, but, like you, I still believed—and believe—in miracles.
I would speak every night with my you, often for an hour, on the way home from work late at
Night during my hour-long commute, or from home on days I worked from home as I cooked
Dinner. I mostly let you talk, trying to give you what comfort and social outlet I could.

You were lonely, sad, stuck in an endless cycle of emotional and physical pain.
Lately you were especially reticent to get off the phone. When mom was home and still
Relatively well, I’d call every day too but usually spoke to you only a few minutes and you’d
Transfer the phone to mom, with whom I usually chatted much longer.

For months, you’d had difficulty hanging up. I knew you did not want to go back to the couch,
To a meaningless TV program, or to writing more bills. You’d say good-bye, or “enough for
Today” and immediately begin a new thread, then repeat the cycle, sometimes five or six times.
You even told me, at least once crying recently, “Just hang up on me or I’ll just keep talking.”

I loved you, dad, with all my heart. We argued, and I’d often scream at you in frustration,
Knowing you would never take it to heart and would usually just ignore me and do as
You pleased. I knew how desperately you needed me, and I tried to be as patient as I could.
But there were days when I was just too tired, too frustrated, too full of other problems.

There were days when I got frustrated with you just staying on the phone for an hour when I
Needed to call Alice, to eat my cold dinner, or even to watch a favorite program. I felt guilty
And very seldom cut a conversation short, but I was frustrated nonetheless even knowing
How much you needed me and also how much I needed you, and how little you asked of me.  

How I would love to hear your voice again, even if you wanted to complain about the same old
Things or tell me in minutest detail some unimportant aspect of your day. I thought I would
Have you at least a little longer. A year? Two? God only knew, and I could hope. There would be
Time. I had so much more to share with you, so much more to learn when life eased up a bit.

You taught me to fish (it did not take) and to hunt (that took even less) and much of what I
Know about mechanics, and electronics. We worked on our cars together for years—from brake
Jobs, to mufflers, to real tune-ups in the days when points, condensers, and timing lights had Meaning, to rebuilding carburetors and fixing rust and dents, and power windows and more.

We were friends, good friends, who went on Sunday drives to favorite restaurants or shopping
For tools when I was single and lived at home. You taught me everything in life that I need to
Know about all the things that matter. The rest is meaningless paper and window dressing.
I knew all your few faults and your many colossal strengths and knew you to be the better man.

Not even close. I could never do what you did. I could never excel in my fields as you did in
Yours.  You were the real deal in every way, from every angle, throughout your life. I did not
Always treat you that way. But I loved you very deeply as anyone who knew us knows.
More importantly, you knew it. I told you often, unembarrassed in the telling. I love you, Dad.

The world was enriched by your journey. You do not leave behind wealth, or a body or work to
Outlive you. You never had your fifteen minutes in the sun. But you mattered. God knows your
Virtue, your absolute integrity, and the purity of your heart. I will never know a better man.
I will love you and miss you and carry you in my heart every day of my life. God bless you, dad.
We live our lives in trust
Give out our heart to many
To Friends, family, loves colleagues and many others
But truly only few who deserve us
And the many who take for granted and just use us
They lay rot to our hearts
Stealing away our ability to eagerly give lovingly

An innocence in trust fueled and blinded by love for them
A beautiful trait mostly?
Or a weak flawed character?
They tarnish our hearts as if leaving blemishes that slowly turn into stone!

No weak we are not being of pure heart and lovingly give thereof,
It be thier character that’s weak
We need know there demure
So for them we can turn those stone blemished hearts to their court

But need not allow  ourselves to be less for our hearts we can keep pure and true!
We will often run to their aid but call on them and  you will age waiting!
It be only a few who hold out hearts true!
Stand strong and alone you will know who you can rely, when absolutely necessary!

Don’t miss a moment to praise those  
For those truly worth
Love, a true accomplishment worth bragging about,
let them know and sing Their praises!
They be not to be labeled that tarnished name, (friend) no they hold a far greater unsaid name boasting in our hearts, love!
For the handful at most they be
They be of us! and our own!
For the True
poetryaccident Aug 2018
The imposter forgets the first time
their start lost from memory
gone behind the veil of time
that opening of the present lies
truth abandoned may have yelled
exclaimed injustice as an affront
looking to the whole conscience
for redress to the new harm

look to the mentors of the lie
tutors of deception’s trait
providing guidance to ensure
misstatement is the verity
permission given to fabricate
reliance on the dark arts
with spin as the least of sins
as deceit becomes the norm

perhaps the babe had a chance
that innocent was lost alas
when the falsehoods did not stop
fiction became the certitude
now days have darkly blurred
so many times the untruths were spun
until the facts became misplaced
in yesteryear of the bygone.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180812.
The poem “The First Time” was inspired by the title of the Tumblr short story “The Imposter Remembers”.   Imposters were not born whole-clothe as the manipulators of reality.  The origin may be lost to the present, but somewhere in the past, the first lie was told.
Naomi Jan 29
Being kind
is a trait
with a little bit of blessings,
and a whole lot of curses.
When you cusp your
chipped, bruised, and bleeding heart
and hold it against your chest
sobbing in the corner of your room,
wondering why someone took advantage
of a heart with pure intentions.
I will have to ask myself this question every day
for the remainder of my existence on this planet.
Why do the ones who decide to be
and sweet
and loving
end up the most broken?
From the selfish ones
who take advantage of their goodness.
Kind people are more cursed
not because they are,
but because of what they remember.
It has been psychologically proven
that tragic events will stand out more in your mind
than happy and joyous ones.
That's pretty ****** up on creation's part.
They will remember...
How you were against them
when they were for you.  
How you knocked them down
once they picked you up.
How you said "I love you"
then screamed in their ears and bruised their bodies.
I am confused by the meaning of love.
But one day I hope
the stars align
the sun comes out
the world may finally make sense.
And us good people...
we will get the kindness we deserve.
The time for punishment has arrived
line up the guilty for their trial
where the judgment is assumed
none shall refuse the stated sins
their lot is cast by consequence
all shall abide by the decree
the penalty shall match the crime
begin the grouping of the contrite

put the partisans in their groups
one on each side away from foes
with the worst in the front
holding weapons that drew blood
these hooligans will lead the pack
declaring statements all must condone
the brush is tarred to organize
one from another in their tribes

now put the shameful in their place
then state ‘mercy will be denied’
when the cries are exclaimed
to the gods now deaf by shame
the blood will flow in cleansing streams
evoking strength in witnesses
all shall declare that justice asked
for the censure of faithless ones

a final twist is now exposed
the sentence ****** just one trait
neutrality from the warring bands
no side selected among the crowds
this disinterest was their end
when only followers are held right
the unbiased are dubious
not holding creed with dogma's blight

once the lukewarm has been spat
from the mouth of pious folk
the hot and cold may battle on
with the assurance of sacred scripts
none will cry in the end
while the pundits lead their charge
all doubt is vanquished with the fall
of those who doubt conviction's charm.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190130.
The poem “Time For Punishment” is a wry look at who is ultimately punished for the ongoing “culture wars”.
destiny berry Jul 21
you leave a sour taste in my mouth, like the shot of apple cider vinegar i take at the end of each day.
things between you and i didn’t even get that far, tell me why is it that i feel this way?
never have we exchanged the “L” word,
never have we made love .
yet, a stinging jealousy lingers on the tip of my tongue.
the wings of thousands of butterflies in my stomach would flap, whenever my phone rung.
how can a kiss or two lead to an emotionally draining attachment? **** near a soul-tie!
i was certain of the decision i made when i said my last goodbye.
perhaps my heart had other plans for
but i told you from the jump a toxic trait of mine was having the inability to trust.
time passes and here i sit; in disgust, feeling all betrayed.
never have we been officially exclusive, still, i feel cheated on, neglected and led astray.
my mind has moved on but it appears to be my heart that’s having difficulty keeping up.
if i were to spot you anywhere i’d give a cold shoulder and a tense lipped “wassup”.
my soul bellows out to the Bill Withers classic, “Ain’t No Sunshine”.
if the saying “time heals all wounds” is true, then why is it that i am not fine?
the frustration with myself is far deeper than the frustration i have for you.
turns out the grass ain’t greener on the other side, turns out it was all too good to be true.
my spirit is stirred, but my eyes refuse to cry.
so i promised myself to keep my head up,
but ****.
**** this soul-tie.

- d.berry
Kate Eddy Jun 21
The blaze took the house with great speed,
Those inside at once had fleed,
But all was not as it appeared,
For when at last the smoke had cleared,
Among the husk of the home
The children discovered they were alone.

They dashed about in a frantic pace,
Looking around for the smallest trace,
Fearing the worst was yet to pass,
One last glance the children cast,
It was then they noticed her cloth of blue,
And the fate of their mother they finally knew.

Running to where their mother laid,
They knew a farewell they'd have to bade,
Knowing that they couldn't stay
For their only relative live far away,
When their mother was put to rest at last
Julie knew she had to push them past.

Leaving the ashes of their past behind,
Hoping a new home they would find,
Julie did for her sisters all she could,
Knowing that reliving the past would do no good.
And so at last Julie and sisters journey began
To reach their home was the only plan.

When the sky turned black as night,
Julie knew something was not quite right,
Stopping their ride Julie and Linda can tell
That something must not be going well,
As they returned they were alarmed to see
Their sister Clotild drowning in the sea.

Julie at once knew what to do,
Into the water at once she flew,
Clotild's head went slowly down below,
The fate of her sister Linda afraid to know,
But when Julie came to the surface at last
Seeing Clotild, Linda knew the danger had passed.

"Clotild, what were you thinking?" they wished to know,
Clotild answered simply saying she was hot and wished to go,
To cool her feet with the fresh feel of the sea
At the time not seeing where the fault could be,
Please don't do that again, they'd scold,
For had they not known, a different story would of been told.

Racing to where the smoke had led,
Each took in the scene with dread,
As flames spread across the little town
Chaos had evidently ensued all around,
Julie looked about the destroyed land,
Knowing what it was like to see the damage firsthand.

What Julie saw then made her blood go cold,
For upon a burning threshold
A girl lay unconscious in need of aid,
Julie knew if she stayed
Or if she delayed-
A heavy price the girl would of paid.

Julie ran as fast as she ever had before,
Diving last minute towards the floor,
Dragging the girl safely away,
The girl opened her eyes as if to say,
She felt she was going to be okay,
Julie couldn't imagine how she'd come to be alone,
Thankfully, evidence of life had clearly shown.

Many had seen what had transpired,
The courage of Julie they had all admired,
But when asked why she put herself in harm's way,
She said, I couldn't very well let her stay,
Julie then took her to where Linda and Clotild stood
Knowing that she'd done all that she could.

It was clear that the girl had no home,
As tattered clothes had clearly shown,
Julie realized that there was one thing she could do,
Knowing that the girl's options were few,
She decided to offer her a chance to restart,
For with them she'd always be a part.

Frightened she was when she finally awoke,
Noticing in gentle tones the sisters spoke,
What happened? They wished to know,
Tears at once began to flow,
They listened to the tale she wished to be told,
As the story of Chloe began to unfold.

I'm an only child, I only had my mom and dad,
In fact they were the only family that I had,
I had to do homeschooling for we were too poor,
Yet, even with that I'd been happy as none before,
Then today fire took my home and the next I'd known
I was fighting for life on my own.

Julie didn't know what to say,
Yet she noticed even now Chloe seemed to be okay,
As if she'd accepted what had passed,
Hoping her parents would feel peace at last,
Linda and Clotild felt like they could relate,
It seemed as if tragedy was the common trait.

As they continued on their way,
Julie and her sister's story they relay,
Finishing with when they had met,
There was something Chloe couldn't forget,
She looked at Julie asking,"Why help me?"
For the reasoning she did not see.

Julie looked at her kindly and without hesitation said,
If I didn't move I knew you'd be dead,
I knew I couldn't leave you there to die
Hopeless though it seemed at the time I had to try,
I took a emergency class a few weeks ago you see,
And the first thing I was taught was never to flee.

The spell of silence was suddenly shattered,
When Julie noticed a girl pale and battered,
Who suddenly collapsed in a heap
As if she'd fallen fast asleep,
Julie went at once to her side,
Sweat thick on her brow she spied.

They knew something had to be done,
Already the setting of the sun had begun,
Julie drove as fast as she could,
And into view a little town stood,
Spotting a doctor's office the girls go,
Hoping the illness the doctor will know.

Slowly the girl began to groan,
Opening her eyes confusion shown,
Seeing her awake Chloe asked her name,
Instead of an answer a blank look came,
The doctor took the girl into another room
Returning a few moments later with a look of gloom.

"Please, she said gesturing to some seats,
With a critical look she asked,"How'd you meet?"
We were driving along when we saw her in the road,
The girls said as their concern clearly showed,
The girl sat in quiet destress as the doctor stressed
This poor child's memory is quite a mess.

"What could you possibly mean?" Julie asked at last,
The doctor answered as a pitiful glance she cast,
She doesn't know who she is or where she's from,
Linda asked," Then for her.....what is to come?"
She will have to go into foster care I'm afraid,
Yet as she said that the girl had swayed.  

Julie was at her side rather quickly,
As the girl appeared even more sickly,
Against Julie the girl then went,
As if to show her energy was clearly spent,
Julie and Linda laid her in a bed,
Knowing she heard all that was said.

The next day when the first ray of sun appeared,
The girl's condition seemed to have cleared,
She said to the doctor as if to get her to see,
I think those girls are my only family,
Julie heard what she said wondering where this would lead
For it appeared as if she planted a seed.

The doctor went to the girls asking if this was true,
"Yes, was the answer that Julie threw,
As the doctor could not prove them wrong,
The girl was allowed to come along,
Leaving the little town behind,
All appeared to have recent events on mind.

Finally Julie asked the girl as she wished to understand,
What was it that made it so she lied to change the plan,
The girl said at last, I felt a bit safer with you,
And I'm not saying that the doctor wouldn't know what to do,
But you helped me , even though you didn't know me at all,
I didn't want to be alone, she said appearing small .

They looked at the girl in a kind way,
At first not knowing what to say,
Finally, Linda asked if she remembered her name,
The girl responded with much disdain,
I'm afraid no name comes to mind,
And I want to leave my past behind.

It's time I start again she proclaimed,
As things can never be the same,
I think we should start with who I am,
So you can call me and all can understand,
How do you like Lucy as a name?
I think that will do nicely as it is simple and plain.

And Lucy was what the girl was to be known,
As if to show how she felt, relief was what had shown,
Lucy then listened to their adventure,
Ending with when they'd met her,
Lucy looked at Julie in a new light,
Saying, "now I know my decision was right."

When the day had come to an end ,
A night under the stars the girls did spend,
Do you ever think about that day ? Asked Clotild
Her voice was sadness filled,
Julie and Linda glanced at her and with pity said,
Clotild we've got to move ahead.

Clotild said nothing and proceeded to bed,
As if to shut out her sister's presence instead,
The next day away from her sisters Clotild did stay,
And not one word did she say,
They came at last to a city to see,
And angry mob corner a girl while she looked back defiantly.

The girls went at once to the scene,
So the situation they could glean,
Linda asked what they were doing,
The mob answered saying, a thief is who we're pursuing,
Linda got in front of the girl asking, "what has she stolen?"
A shop owner pointed saying, it's in the bag she's pullin.

Linda took the bag and looked inside,
In which many foods did reside,
The group glanced at the girl asking the cost,
Paying for the items they had lost,
As the mob slowly trickled away –
the girls asked why she didn't pay .

The girl hung her head Shamed,
you can't blame me she claimed,
at first they had not caught on,
it was then that a girl came along ,
she doesn't have any Home,
she's with me and we're on our own.

My name is Nancy and this is Carol she said,
saying this as if on thin Ice they did tread,
Julie stepped forward and said then,
We won't hurt you, we are friends,
Linda went to them with the bag
knowing that it was all they had.

Once the bag was in their possession,
Nancy said as her weariness began to lessen,
"Thank you for all that you did,"
and with that the farewell they bid
later that night where the girls stayed,
an unexpected visit Nancy and Carol paid.

Hey , Chloe said is everything okay?
Carol answered saying we decided not to stay,
the girls looked at each other asking where they go,
as all of them now wish to know ,
Nancy looked at the girls with hopeful pleasure,
Hoping to find a life that was better.

We were wondering if we could join you guys
and find out where our future lies,
Come and join us, Lucy said to them,
for now they only saw friends,
it was then their story they began to tell,
and at once silence fell.

We are sisters you see,
For so long we'd no where to be,
Believe it or not we had a home,
Better than any have ever known,
For a minute not a word was said,
Carol continued with a look of dread.

"We were well off because of our parents occupations,
The girls listened with much anticipation,
My mom was a doctor and dad was a lawyer you see,
That's why we were such a wealthy family,
One day, said Nancy picking up the story, that changed
Dad came and with mom words were exchanged.

Apparently, dad was being sued,
For as far as his client viewed,
Dad hadn't done all that he could,
Therefore to his client he was no good,
I don't know how much they took,
But the nerves of our parents it clearly shook.

Soon word spread throughout our town,
And eventually people stopped coming to him all around,
Soon mom had to pay for all of bills on her own,
And the stress of it had clearly shown,
One day our parents argued whether or not to send us away,
Carol and I didn't bother to stay.

The girls looked at them with dismay,
Wishing there was something they could say,
Nancy continued saying, the next day we packed our bags,
As she said this  her shoulders sagged,
We knew then that we'd never see our home again,
I thought Carol and I eventually mend.

We ran away from every place we were sent,
Even though no unkindness any family meant,
Since that time we've been alone with nowhere to go,
Sighing, Nancy said, now our story you know,
Julie put her hand reassuringly on Nancy's shoulder,
Thanks for letting us know, she had told her.

What about you? The two sisters wish to be told ,
So to the sisters the story did unfold,
Nancy and Carol stared at Julie with the look of awe,
As if realizing only now who it was that they saw,
Is this really true? They asked as if yet to believe,
It's true, they said as if to show they didn't deceive.

"We've heard of you! Carol said suddenly,
As if the memories of those events surfaced finally,
You were on the news a few days ago,
She looked at Nancy as if she'd know,
Yes, Nancy slowly said as if the story began to return,
Julie was surprised at what the news people had learned.

I just helped those who I thought I could,
Just like I think anyone should,
Carol and Nancy smiled at Julie as if happy to know,
To a new home with Julie they would go,
Several weeks had passed since their journey began,
And out of Europe they were as they planned.

Six days later in New York they came,
And though tired they were happy to be on land all the same,
Through the vast city the girls drove,
Right down New York's main roads,
Throughout the day many had noticed the girls go,
As recognition slowly began to grow.

Comments circled about them regularly,
"Can't we be left alone!", Clotild said sullenly,
Linda and Julie glanced at Clotild momentarily,
She was worse then they thought, they noticed worryingly,
They went to a park and set up camp for the night,
Somewhere that was out of sight.

The glow of the moon lit up their camp in soft light,
Julie and Linda had a feeling that Clotild wasn't alright,
She hardly paid them any heed,
And when they approached she'd recede,
They wished they could make her feel better,
But she was just too bitter.

The next day the girls went through  to Nebraska's state,
Clotild what's wrong? Chloe asked seeing a look of hate,
"I'm fine!" Clotild said violently,
The girls stared at her silently,
It was then that Linda and Chloe swapped,
As the others continued to look at Clotild shocked.

A village came out of the blue,
Those in the village had looked at them as if the girls they knew,
As they set up camp villagers watched in awe
Not believing who it was that they saw,
A girl said, " mommy it's the girl from tv,
The mother glanced in their direction saying-it is indeed.

Looking in their direction Julie sees,
Sheltered in the shade of the shops a girl looked on miserably,
Julie went at once to her to see what was wrong,
All at once had withdrawn,
As the girl noticed and began to retreat, Julie shouted wait!
Catching up Julie noticed that she was pale and under weight.

Are you okay? Lucy asked then,
As a cut Julie did tend,
Linda went and got her food and drink,
And looking at the girl Julie began to think,
Looking at the girl seeing the bleeding,
Julie asked her what was wrong and she said," I was fleeing."

Julie glanced at the others with concern,
Trouble at once they began to discern,
Julie took the girl into her tent,
The other girls to guard the tent they went,
An hour later Julie came out at last,
How bad is it? They asked noticing the look she cast.

Her name is Rose and she's frightened and has good reason,
Julie said this her voice began to lessen,
Last night her parents were robbed and killed,
She witnessed it Julie said her voice with concern filled,
After a minute she continued, apparently the robber knew,
She ran because she didn't know what to do.

She's still in shock unfortunately,
Since no one's caught him he's still at large you see,
She no longer has a home,
She's afraid and she's on her own,
We can't leave her alone with that man on the run,
Okay we'll leave tomorrow at the rising of the sun.

The next day at first light the girls left the village behind,
Each one with the thought of home on their mind,
The sky was crystal clear the air crisp and sweet,
For a minute a pair of eyes Julie did meet,
It was a figure of a boy her age she saw then,
She did not see him again.

For the rest of the day Julie's attention seemed to stray,
To that boy that didn't stay,
Who was it who she had seen?
Was it an illusion or a dream?
As she watched the smoke from their fire burn into the night,
Something went across Julie's sight in flight.

Julie got up and said,"whose out there?"
As this reaction seemed quite fair,
It was then a boy had appeared as a silhouette in the night,
Julie went up to him before he went out of sight,
Why are you following us? she asked her voice tight,
Looking at him Julie can tell something's not right.

Hello Julie, I've come to warn you,
So when the time comes you'll know what to do,
There is one among you you call your friend,
That person you'll lose in the end,
Julie glaring said, " What do you mean then?"
The boy said," the one you call a friend will betray you in the end

Beware he said on and on,
Then as suddenly as he appeared he was gone,
Julie looked at the place where the girls laid,
Suddenly feeling very afraid,
She didn't know why for she thought it couldn't be true,
So to bed she went and thoughts of that night flew.

The next day into Colorado they appeared,
For all the girls weariness at last had cleared,
As each knew their journey was about to end,
And soon all of them would have a home again,
Keeping that in mind, the girls look until a clearing they find
Where a cabin lay with trees behind.

The group went to work setting up camp,
As the air turned cool and damp,
The girls sat to eat dinner at 6:00 that night,
Finishing they feel tired and Julie knows something isn't right,
Because try as they did to stay awake,
Julie knew a drug was placed in something they ate or drank.

As Julie was the last to go down,
The closing of a door was her last sound,
When she woke at last around a room a glance was thrown,
As this room she had not known,
Wondering where you are? Asked Clotild in a mocking tone,
Julie looked at her as confusion shown.

Clotild what.....Julie stopped as understanding grew,
Julie felt as if she'd been hit in the face as she said,"It's you!"
"Why? Julie asked, what have any of us done to deserve this?"
Looking at the others who she originally missed,
Clotild glared as she said, " you don't care or know
To hear Julie this and Julie that wherever you go.

Yet even with that- before any of this began,
Instead of taking command,
You left mom in that fire to die,
And you didn't even bother to try!
So yes Julie, it was me
Because I had every right to be.

"Clotild, how could I have known this would of occurred?"
Yet even as she said this, she knew she wasn't heard,
Goodbye Julie, said Clotild as she stood,
"Clotild, Julie said realizing it'd do no good,
Julie tried to stand only to find her hands and feet tied,
Clotild ran out the door as the binds she tried.

When Julie freed herself to the door she went,
Without luck opening the door her energy she spent,
The others finally woke with a groan,
All went to Julie as she sat alone,
Linda came to her asking, Where are we?
And where is Clotild? For it was her they didn't see.

As they looked at Julie they knew something was wrong,
For she had an expression that didn't belong,
Julie told what happened and the girls began to dispute,
"It's true, said Julie at last , an answer they couldn't refute,
"What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?
The answer of which nobody knew.

The door was locked from the outside,
And yet no matter how hard they tried,
The door had stayed in it's place,
It seemed like too much for the girls to face,
When all seemed lost and hopeless then,
The door opened revealing only a friend.

The boy Julie had met came at once to her side,
As a look of depression on her face he spied,
"Who are you? asked Rose suspicion clear in her voice,
I'm a friend and I'm here to help, he said by choice,
"How did you find us?" asked Julie her annoyance plain,
"I followed your sister as she took you away", he claimed.

We might as well leave as there is no reason to stay,
"Be wary, your sister intends to make you pay,
What on earth could you mean? asked Linda upset,
Wondering how much worse things could possibly get,
But again as suddenly as he had come to their aid,
He vanished as if to show they were too much delayed.

Their journey home they still went,
To each other their strength they lent,
Not one word had anyone said,
For due to recent events their hearts were filled with lead,
Finally a town came into sight,
As they came they noticed a girl in flight.

From trouble the girl ran,
Behind her as she went she scanned,
Glancing to where her eyes lead,
The group at once to guard the girl they sped,
For a few thieves at once took chase,
Stop! Julie said intent on putting them in their place.

They stopped asking, And why would we listen to you?
At once a fist Julie threw and away they flew,
At last the girl the group had found,
Julie went to her saying, "they're gone, no one's around."
The girl glanced shyly about,
Sure it was now safe she then came out.

"Why bother to help me when you didn't know me at all?"
With them after me, I don't see why on you responsibility'd fall,
They had no right to take from you,
And I knew there was something I could do,
The girl said, I don't even have a home,
I was going to try and  find a life of my own.

Would you like to come with us? asked Rose,
Really...yes please the girl said as the door on her past closed,
What is your name? asked Rose facing their new friend,
Sky, said the girl as a note of confidence she did send,
Where you heading? asked Sky as they left the town behind
Linda said, we're hoping our dad we'll find.

Sky asked confused, what could you mean?
So the girls explained how their journey came into being,
Sky was so amazed that for a minute she could only say,
Julie there's no way
They looked at her and Lucy said, it's true,
And her admiration of Julie quickly grew.

Sky then said, I am sorry that your sister lost her way,
For the wound was still fresh and twas a heavy price to pay,
Thank you, Julie said to break the ice,
For silence had latched on as a vice,
At long last to their father's house they came,
Realizing to each girl life wouldn't be the same.

Knocking on the door as anticipation did build,
Throughout Julie's being fear had filled,
For Clotild's eyes Julie had met,
A look Clotild sent as if to say Julie's actions she'd regret,
At once Clotild took flight-
Quickly vanishing from Julie's sight.

"We need to get inside now, Julie said urgently,
The girls glanced at Julie not seeing what the trouble could be,
Julie? Asked Linda with growing concern,
Seeing what she could learn,
She's here, was all Julie had said,
The girls heard and looked around with dread.

The door opened to show a man with a serious look,
Asking angrily," where is the money that you took?
Your money was stolen? Was it by a girl with blond hair?
The man looked annoyed saying yes as if he'd despaired,
We'll get it back, Julie said taking off with speed,
To the place where Clotild had fleed.

Clotild was hiding in a group of trees in view of all,
"Clotild, Julie's voice did call,
Don't make this harder than it needs to be,
Julie ran into the area as the threat she didn't see,
Running at Julie blind with rage a knife she drew,
Yet as the knife was ****** in Julie it didn't go to.

For right as it came it was Rose who took the blow,
And slowly to the ground she did go,
Dropping the knife Clotild ran,
As she noticed the failure of her plan,
"Rose, Julie said as she sank into her arms weakly,
Her breath came rather futility.

Rose weakly noticed all the girls had gathered around,
They watched shocked and no one made a sound,
Julie asked her voice sad "Why did you jump in front of me?"
Rose smiling said, Julie you taught us all what we should be,
Wincing she said, I didn't want my friend to die,
So futile though it appeared at the time, I knew I had to try.

Rose had tears in her eyes,You gave more than I ever dream of,
Julie cried as Rose went to be with the ones she loved,
After everything Rose had been through,
Julie felt peace for she knew
At last her wish came true,
At once Clotild Julie went to pursue.  

But Julie didn't have to go long,
Seeing Clotild's hands tied Julie's eyes were drawn,
For next her a boy stood tall,
Seeing Julie a serious look did fall,
The money taken to their dad they returned,
Julie then to her dad she turned.

Do I know you? Her dad asked looking at her hard,
Suddenly appearing on guard,
"Dad, It's me Julie, she said as her voice cracked,
"Julie, is it really you? Her dad said as to react,
Why are you here? And why are these girls with you?
So introducing the girls, Julie explained what they'd been through.

For a while, Joe hung his head in shame,
Your mother's dead? As if he was to blame,
"It's not your fault!"Julie said with conviction,
"Yes it is, he said looking stricken,
I was a cop and I promised our plan wouldn't change,
For a time it worked he said this he aged.

What? Julie said wanting to understand,
Joe didn't meet her eyes, my job kinda took command,
I missed our anniversary and your birthday,
After a time your mother said she couldn't stay,
That was the last I'd heard from her unfortunately,
For years you girls were all I wanted to see.

"Dad,  we can be a family again,
Linda said jumping in hoping strength she'd lend,
Joe looked up with a sad look in his eyes,
But why would Clotild blame us for your mother's demise?
Julie said, She's broken and just looking for someone to blame,
I'm sad to say, she is not at all happy we came.

Joe looked at his girls and said, you truly wish to live with me?
Wondering where the reasoning could be,
Yes, said Julie I promised these girls a chance to restart,
I told them with us they'd always be a part,
Then yes, you can come and live with me here,
Hearing the girls did cheer.

Turning to the boy Julie smiled back,
You like me, she said as if it were fact,
What makes you think that? the boy asked in a mocking tone,
Looking up Julie noticed a smile had shown,
So why then did you come to our aid?
Because to the those girls survival a huge part you played.

So who are you? Julie asked then,
A tone of curiosity she did send,
My name is john if you really wish to know,
And as of now I don't intend to ever go,
Leading John into her home
A happy ending the girls at last had known.

Until we meet again  -
I have 2 words and they're The End
This is the first epic poem I've ever written. It's based on a story I wrote as a kid.
Alyssa Baugh Aug 2018
Anxiety is what i'm
entirely composed of
Always failing
always behind
never enough
to counteract these things is simple
any leverage i get i take
no matter the consequence
the only leverage i seem to possess
is the super power of dissociation
Ill smoke a water fall of cigarettes to keep my hands busy
other wise ill clench them
Ill talk so much you'll have to leave the room
to escape my ambush of thoughts
I thought you'd like to hear em
but you told me other wise
The excitement drained from my eyes
Ironically that's the trait of myself i despise
I like myself a little less
I think this one's a blast
To make the story grow fast
I watered it with delight
By watching it day and night

The event took place with lots of grass
In an African-like scenery created to last
Insects merged with human DNA
The chimera ants are out for the prey

A situation that gave me quite a fright
The killing of the people by their might
My attention is focused without a sound
Leaving the villages ruined to the ground

Feeding the queen whom they obey
She must eat a large number of humans a day
In order to make a perfect king to lead
With strong soldiers whom she also breed

This story is worth as gold
One of the greatest stories ever told
It begins when the mighty king was born
A being who knows not how to mourn

A merciless apathetic formidable creature
Who considered himself superior to all
Who wants nothing but a formidable future
With pride as his defining trait up to his fall

I watch it attentively day and night
This wonderful story written with pride
A treat that one could ignore a clock's chime
Making this arc as one of the best of all time
Indigo May 6
I am from __________________
(a specific item from your childhood home)

(two­ products or objects from your past)

I am from __________________
(a phrase describing your childhood home)

__________________(more description of your childhood home)

I am from __________________
(a plant, tree or natural item from your past)

(pers­onify that natural item)

I am from __________________
(two objects from your past)

_______________and __________________
(a family name) (another family name)

I am from ______________and __________________
(a family trait or tendency) (another family trait or tendency)

and from
(another family trait, habit or tendency)
from __________________
(anot­her family trait, habit or tendency)

I am from
(a religious phrase or memory)

I am from ______________and __________________
(an ancestor) (another ancestor)

(two foods from your family history)

from __________________
(a specific event in the life of an ancestor)

and from
(anot­her detail from the life of an ancestor)

(a memory or object you had as a child)

I am from those moments ___________________
(conc­lude by finishing this thought or by repeating a line or idea from earlier in the poem)
He strongly said
You don’t need anyone
I took his words as it is
I did not change my way

An aeroplane must remain under the radar
The pilot has a responsibility
Students don’t go away

Crime is a trait; many times I said
Spectators see their upper hand
Many acts I do to let you see
That I have not gone away

Surprises may give a heart attack
I’m a confirmed way

Dr Baljit Singh
Friday 21st June 2019

— The End —