The town in which it is I live
Is rightly named Turnaround
Where some folk turn their lives around
While others get turned around and never found

It all depends on which side of the street
You find yourself on at any given time
To how much it is your willing to take
Versus how much your willing to go out and find

So if you ever find yourself in Turnaround
Take this old mans kindly advice
Hold on to good that you have learned
And use what you have learned to turn around your life

A Novelist thought clever in wanting to write a trivial story
He had all the details with bringing all its glory
How will the reader respond?
It’s anybody’s guess
The Novelist controls the theory being his trump card
But the story has a strong tail
Now let me illustrate without fail
The conclusion is the start with a turnaround
It was ****** in the start being a conclusion of the dialog
Later the story becomes a turnaround with knock at the door that led to the ******
Now there is no specific order
The idea is too visualize in your mind what the outcome should be
The Novelist is only setting the background with the situation
Yet there is a lot of reverse in the turnaround
The identity of the murderer is not really clear
But there is uncertainty being fear
The Novelist write, and suddenly pauses
He thinks to himself in where the story should begin
But does the reader want to depart instead
The conclusion in begin sounding more like an illusion
But there is a lot of confusion
Puzzled on face
This whole story could become a total erase

Immerse yourself until wholly submerged
in my unholy divergence;
Poor form tormented soul - 
Roll your pain in a J
then dip it in chloroform
Embrace my urges to purge
the remnants of sanity,
Spilling and screaming
all these profanities at humanity

Confuddling all posers
with my bastardized prose ~
Please, continue badgering
and nagging me
with your ****-******* menagerie
of trivial drudgery
I’m in misery so
go ahead and bludgeon me
Square in the noggin’
So that I can jog it,
whilst juggling all these nails
from my coffin

I’m awfully harmful and cruel
got these scoffing jealous skeptics
Acting a fool,
coughing up a lung-full of fuel
for all of the putrid mind puke I spew
My mixing *** skull’s
where the ingredients accrue
Just stew with me for a little
while longer though won’t you

I’m a cancer-ridden addler
babbling mad adages,
ravishingly tenderizing my meat
Laced with some dust from space, yes, no lackage/absence of it lining
within my nasal passages see
spun off some of that absinthe
In a cloud of burning trees
Please tell me you feel me

It’s staggering how I’m both crazy batshit,
**** smooth as rotten laxative cheese
Brain’s melting acidic beef
I’m like Randy Savage I got
Bombastic fat ******* in heat
Straight making my **** go flaccid post-weep

Don’t get offended women
just imagine
How painfully average the package
is within my lap that I’m packin
But now it’s wrapped
and I’m ready to fucken
fully send it no cap
My turnaround is lightning fast
In and out of your *** quick as a wink like The Flash

Faces contort in ghastly panic, actually
Dastardly antics unleashed in vast swarms
Plague the masses in pandemic proportions with them massive casualties factually once more
Give ya some relaxing action 
And skull-**** y’all
with such a passion *******
Your corpse falls to the floor
and right through the trapdoor

Candid, my pen-chance enchants
Heavy-handedly inanimate
in suspended animation
Supplant reality augmentation
Machinations of my imagination;
Implicating **** ransacking  
and seafaring through crab infestations 
Wreaking havoc and bequeathing vengeance
I’m a fire breathing grim reaper reeking of ****** ~

- Off is the nearest direction in which to ****
Dissect my ******* with your tongue
Turnt up ******* plumpies in the rumpus 
Just for the fun of it until I erupt
Remember, I’m avid for dismembering appendages
I expect you’re exceptional at accepting
a barrage of septic bombardment
Chance of success: logistics analysis zero percentage
(Cos I done ******* on all those *******.)

Superbly superlative and speculative
So fast on Adderall
I make Mad Hatter’s head spin
Quicker than you can snap: 
Giving your family heart attacks
Smack you in the face, 
While fapping my fabulous lap rocket

Thunderously plundering under covers
Spring-loaded with faux pas’ so hot
Make your mother’s ***** pop out
and say “hello”
like a Jack-in-the-Box

& U kno Those foxy grandmas
be jaxing off my **** -
Bingo wings beckoning me to flock
Choppin’ up rocks round the clock
with the glock in my pocket til I rot 
Undoubtedly
Caught em wit the molly-whop eyeballs pop out they sockets all dramatically
Whole squad **** swap the rod, on God
Blow my whole *** when I start spitting them double entendre fatality snowballs
Zippity-zop like Cosby’s special BBQ sauce
Bet I’ll dip my puddin’ pop and stay fresh with the drip til I drop
Y’all just holler when you want me to stop

Palpable, these **** butts malleable as putty
Barbarically barrel rolling into dat ***
rip it to shreds like confetti
Power Pole extend
Face pressed into your *******
Inhaling the wafting aromatic stenches
of distant French fish factories

Clearly getting dome from your dearly betrothed violently
Now she bridal and my seeds spiraling virally
Vital signs finalizing
Bounce that *** like jello
Swell; I’m in your hair like gel
Now swallow my jollies and don’t bother
Unless you hollerin’ and giving me dollars
Zealots idol my harlotry

If nose goes go slow grow low
Throwing those yoloing hoes out windows
This ***** simply bonkers
I conquer fear me

***** DON’T HARSH MY MELLOW
SWEAR I’LL MARSH YOUR MALLOWS

What a joy
What a joy
My little nephew,
Two decades back
Born abroad,
When a  guest here
A ride on
A piggy shoulder
Who used to enjoy,
To whom I bought
A motley toy
Out of himself
Made a brilliant boy.

“As per my choice
Could you buy me a donkey
Or a could you allow  me
A  tortoise
To touch
When we go to
The squalid market square
Or  the nearby church?”



Double mind
Is his nick name
Now crafting
Software is his game.

A small boy
Inquisitive
He used to ask
“Tell me why
Flowers don't grow
On the sky?”

“Tell me quick
Why animals
Don't speak?
Also stars
Don't grow
On the meadow?”

“Why is the sky high
To touch?”
Such questions helped him
Racking  his brain
To come up with
Academic research,
That troubleshoot
Societal challenge
And afford
A nation a turnaround
Or  for the better a change!


Now, conversant in IT
It is no wonder
To observe
Binary operation,flowcharts
Subroutines,syntax...
Programming languages
Are at the tip of his finger.

His study at
George Mason University
Has turned out a hit
Getting himself
In the Dean's List.

A boy that lends
To parents, relatives
And teachers
A heeding ear
Is really dear.

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret,Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)
This essay is based on the observation research that had been carried out  by a social research firm in  Eldoret, Kenya, in the preceding six moths, which has been concluded on 30th January 2014.I the writer of this essay was among the lead team that carried out this study.We unobtrusively observed two thousand University graduates from east African states of Kenya,Uganda,Tanzania,Rwanda,Ethiopia,Sudan,and Burundi plus a few form some parts of Congo .Our target population of two thousand graduates was used under the guiding assumptions that it would help the study to arrive at water tight social conclusions.Our problem of focus was that ;why are male graduates in east Africa not marrying fellow graduates but instead go for marital partners who have substantially lower education qualification and even academic achievement.
The conditions of serendipity was also encountered and taken care of , when we also deviated from the natural social settings and charted with our digital social media friends who were approximately two thousand as well.They were digital social friends from Facebook and twitter digital social platforms. We  posted a thread in question form that ; if you were marrying today , would you marry a girl you graduated with the same year? Eighty percent of the responses to this thread was no , only twenty percent was yes.
The actual situations in an empirical experience is that male graduates prefer marrying ladies who stopped schooling in high school,and male high school or diploma college graduates prefer marrying ladies who don’t have clear high school education.And male primary school leavers prefer marrying ladies with inferior social positions like those who come from poorer families or from different tribal communities that are geographically, economically or culturally disadvantaged.
And in case where a male graduate dares to marry a fellow graduate , the dominantly observed social behaviour in this juncture is that ; the boy will go for the girl in a different school or faculty that is perceived to be inferior within the university academic climate.Like a student of medicine or law will go for a girl doing education or any University course perceived to be inferior.But the observation  produces insignificant cases of where a medicine student daring to marry a fellow medicine student.The minor cases of where a medicine student dares to marry a fellow medic will only take place in a social fabric that the male student at fifth year level will go for a girl in first year.Still there is a social tilt.
When we asked for reasons in a non-obtrusive manner from our unsuspecting respondents.We got both positive reasons and negative reasons.The positive reasons our respondents gave are that in most cases girls who don’t make it to the university happen to be more beautiful or their physique is more sexually appealling than those ladies who make it to the university.when we projected this type of reasoning , we also found that ladies who are in schools like education,journalism or any other school perceived  inferior in the cultures of the University are again more beautiful and more socially enticing than the girls doing University courses like law ,medicine or engineering.One of the respondents made a socially outlying remark by saying that girls at the polytechnic or certificate colleges are usually light in the skin,**** in character and blessed with big or pronounced bossoms than ladies at the university.
When we asked the negative reasons , our respondents argued that  ladies from the university are not controllable,neither are they prepared to be controlled come even the marriage. Further argument for these behaviour by male  graduates is that the University ladies are sexually exhausted,As they usually stay with a man in the hostel or in the cube during the four or the five years of their live at the University. Some even live with different men interchangeably, after which they divorce those many on the graduation day.Another response is that University ladies have a proclivity towards social hangout behaviours like smoking ,pinching or revving in the wine spree and loving the pocket but not the owner of the pocket.
This social phenomenon have imperative concerns that there is high level of genetic mismatch through marriages in east Africa or any other part of the world which east Africa can be socially generalizable to in such particular socialization.Graduate ladies are often forced to marry as second wives , or marry non graduate husbands or stay as a single mother but playing a mistress somewhere, a social behviour described as mpango wa kando or chips funga in the the east African Kiswahili parlance. Such social encounters have a long term consequences of fettering the genetic potential of the family in terms of  academics.When we conform to a warning by an eminent American psychologist that ; ninety percent of academic brilliance is contained in the genes but not influenced by environment we then obviously concur with the findings of this study that if a graduate marries a graduate there is a guarantee for academic performance among the offspring , but where a graduate marries  a non graduate ,  academic performance among the offspring is either mediocrous or probabilistic.The findings of this study also fall in technical tune and intellectual tandem with the observations of Lee Kuan Yeow in his book; From the third world to the first world in which he pointed out that; failure by the male graduates from  Universities in Singapore to marry the fellow female graduates was an impeachment to development as the ultimate consequence of these social behaviours is unnecessary inhibition of good genetics at a macroeconomic level.
The conclusive position of this study is that University leaderships in Africa, with a particular focus on east Africa, must inspire new University culture that has a turnaround effect on this behavioural status quo.The reality is that male graduates behave like this out of a dominance syndrome not out of anything technically worthwhile.Kindly , let our graduates change their marriage behaviour so that we can substantially protect our genetic advantages.

References;
Lee Kuan Yeow; From Third World to the First World
Alexander K  Opicho, is a social researcher at Sanctuary Research agencies in Eldoret, Kenya.He is also a lecturer  for Research Methods in Governance.

glow to the righteous and firmed in their ways
aloof and fervent forever steadfastly pure
we allow secret ways to uncover us then cover us
over softly so other realms may enchant
we participate open-handed, open-hearted
taking and sharing in delights of pleasure
and in all good measure, we seek the quiet
of love or god or spirits those special ways
to each delivered by cherubs or captains in dress
relentless we search for purpose or oppose
sureness that slurps away at us like melting dew
how can we know or see the ways to
delay or restart matters that can confuse
then reward and disappear as if listening to fallen rain
it's not that we can not see all
but more to it, the mysteries of the unknown
far outstrip anything found, written or even imagined

The graduation party
with fried aubergine, croutons and rye whisky
has raised the hairs of the alumni.
Kismets  afoot about forming a band,
named after actress Alice White,
intuitive bluesy Psychedelicia.
Devonport's dappling on bass
and Schemtar's already on drums.
The devils in the details with the lead singer,
for the want of a lead guitarist
they are gyved.
But if they practice like clockwork
the turnaround will resonant .

oh!
ohhh thank you,
thank you great body,
great god! s~h-e's got my soul
embodied in earthflesh earthflesh
grown from warm soil sacred soilflesh
and redriver lifeblood's lifemud is flowing!
flowing through treelike neural pathways
dendritically branching
branching out into my
starflesh vessel
and there's no sense
in wrestlin' with myself!
My vessel vessel is
embraced worldwide
from the inside
from the inside with mycelium!

Mycelium!!
and I am a mushroom!
I am a spore!
I'm a planet!
I'm a particle! and
I'm pumping away like
waves crashing on a shoreline! and
I'm breathing inward turnaround
outward turnaround chillin'!
maxin', waxin' and wanin'!
pushin' and
pullin' it through my sails
as I sing sweet songs of sunfalls
and moonrises floating and falling
over the horizon like a
crescendo-decrescendo and
I've got roots!

I've got roots that stretch
to the ocean floor and I've got
a thousand pound ethereal steel toe boots
and I am Drinking in the ocean and
I am drinking in heaven's Reflection.

I close my eyes to see and
I remember to breathe! to
breathe slow and I can see!
I can see the keys as
buzzing bees in the leaves
of the trees dancing with great breeze
oh great breeze!
sway swing sway sing
sing a song singsong, please!

breathe it with ease,
breathe it with eeease!

mmm

The metal floor is slicky
Desert heat amplifies
The odor of ***** and blood
Mostly empty IV bags hang on their stands
Packaging from numerous medical supplies
Litter the ground

Quickly and carefully I clean and spray and sweep and scrub
I sort and pack and refit and reorganize
Preparing the chopper for the next call

Lives were saved
But
I don’t know what will become of them
Some will leave the Army
Some will come back here
Some will do the job the enemy couldn’t do
And take their own lives

I can’t think about that
This is hard enough

You seem like the stars in the sky,
the moon of the night
the first drop of rain,
the antidote to my pain.

It could have bled forever,but you stepped in,
breathing life into those far off dreams;
starlit eyes, i had not foreseen
just like fresh air ,when i was drowning.
not a desire,but a necessity.

You were my need, I was your want,
Baby, I expected a turnaround
And all my nights were spent
in vain hope of your replies that never came
I loved you with a red flame
your condescending behavior turned it into ashes.

Maybe I was a foolish dreamer, maybe you were supposed to be just a daydream,
but maybe I hoped I would be the one...
.but I became one of the ones

not every story has an end
and i loved you enough to walk away.
i could not make you love me when we were together
maybe my absence'll make you appreciate my love a li'l better.

And I could have wait forever, but it seems in vain,
one and one makes two, but one looks the other way,
and it could have gone forever, and maybe we were meant to be,
but goodbye is now, all I see.

so for now all words have been said.
this is my final farewell.
come ,let the two of us be strangers again.

Happy with the way things have turned
Though a hard fought race was given and earned.
Sacrifices was extended and considered to deepest horizons,
spawning towards, what we thought infinity captions.
Transpired over and over, as tomorrow is faced,
with grith and angst over as we were below, hoping,
for an ultimate turnaround with a minimal chance.
hoping for tidal shift towards satisfaction, hoping
to seek and and find ourselves waiting.
to catch every opportunity as we persist and fight,
stand up and understand, this constant quest called Life.

im a shell of a lighter baby
not used for the flame but for the pretty picture on the side
im a scaled down turnaround mama
watch me do it again
im a defiant defect sister
you dont know the metaphor youre messing with

be my sidekick confidante
match my song and dance
pray for bread and butter
they never had a chance

entranced by all the little lines
anything for some piece of mind

im a knowitall grassfire honey
turned around by the wind
im an everloving choo choo train
believing the things you say
im a lost and broken soul sweetheart
give me tape or give me death

The d'oeuvres are no longer being served,
and the spaghetti' with clam sauce
not so fetching,
over my white tuxedo.
The service is  inexplicably hurrying  
at the Cafe Rouge;
this gushing turnaround,
but with a  Gewurztraminer in the waiting,
has somehow has moved  me,
more than the curt  waitress Jeanne,
thankfully her imaginary grudges receding.

Vermilion skies pass me by
and into the night the chasm opines
an imagined Ferris wheel at a carnival
turns contra against smothering bindweed,
is this a metaphor for confusion ?
a turnaround of sorts
and with a habitual doff of my hat I bid
to draw this recurring dream to an end,
the naked view now seems surreal.
Should  I then hear the adjacent marching feet of others
surrendering their names in juxtaposition.

What miserable circumstances these are I must say,
All seriousness awaits every young mind,
Dust turns to dirt,
And thy dirt turns to slime!!!

Lying in the state of orient,
Thine place of buckeye hatched ****'s!!!
Thine place where flies stay nutritious,
And gamblers turn to yahzee!!!

Turnaround,
For pickaways thy decadent view,
Just as Shawshank there's no escape,
Just white t-shirts ,
Straps replace laces and mindrapists of me and you!!!

Such colorful words used in a slander!!!

Falcons to replace birds,
Snake's here to smell out every tasteful salamander!!

No dancers,
No lovers,
No swings,
No palliation!!!

No invitations to weddings,
No wedded rings!!!!

Constitutional rights,
Forgeteth them thou reader of ohian laws,
Thy bloodcells extend,
Muscles bend to flex thy own callibur to thine jaw!!!!

Miracles of dark and lighted angels appear in sequences,
No recommendations,
Just case workers to fill bus help stations!!!

Proverbs to psalms will open to eyes that have not yet seen,
Where pearlied gates are out on display,
No movie theaters,
No freak like scenes!!!

All reality, no aura in the Catacomb of unknown kilter!!!

Pacification leads me successfully with a peace of minds own capture,
Prevailing to Sentiment,
To Amour ever after!!!!!

Down;
Down are the words I use
to fill my heart
A blade of grass cut to last
Torn apart - sort the mess

Up;
Up is what I tell myself
when mourning starts
A worm contrast the bird can't grasp
Paramount - my up is down

Stick around; enjoy the sounds
Turnaround; my up is down
Stick around; enjoy the sounds
Turnaround; my up is down

Dear god,
I wear the cross on my chain
As your prays are forever conducted into my brain
And out through my vain
You have a strain on me to do good
For within you I forever could
With me, you forever stood
As I knew you would

For that I'm always grateful
For you are my secret angel
You fly high,
way up in the sky
Looking down making sure I don't drown
And for you I promise never to frown
Or ever turnaround, but to keep on going
Knowing, and showing to way for others
For ****** Mary one of my mothers

The beat of a heart,
the speed of a car,
in the blink of an eye,
faster than you could say goodbye,
the world turns upside down.
Regain your balance quick.
Don’t expect anyone to cut you slack.
Jump back on that horse
before it leaves you behind.
This is how you lose it all.
You lose your balance
then you lose your mind.

When I dwelt in darkness,
I was ignorant and lost -
I paid the price of sorrow,
at my own precious cost;
I bowed to secret pleasures,
gave ground to wicked sin -
bothered not by conscience,
or by places I had been.
And then You called to me Lord,
and You turned my life around -
when I learned Your words of truth,
then I felt on solid ground;
and now I feel the presence,
of Your guiding, helping hand -
in grace and knowledge growing,
I began to understand.
Now Your Spirit dwells in me Lord,
my path is bright and straight =
going forward to tomorrow,
and through that narrow gate.

Less than a month ago, I lay on a cold slab in a dark room, convinced I was dying. Tonight I lay still in my soft bed and realize, maybe I still am.

Its like suffocating, you know? Being drowned in your own ******* emotions. Only fitting that the bad blood in my veins decides to clot right there, in my lungs, in the sickest poetic justice imaginable. I couldn't breathe. Am I even breathing now?

Don't get me wrong, the doctors filled me up with pills and good fortunes, telling me I would be fine if I was careful, cautious, a perfect little good girl. And I smiled and took deep breaths even though every breath killed me. So if my lungs are fine, then why am I not breathing?

Looking back, that morning I woke with sharp pains in my sides I told the doctors I had never felt something like that before. And in a way, I wasn't lying. It had never been so physical before. But the pain, the crying, the inability to breathe, well those were things I was far too familiar with. So doctor, if I'm going to live, why am I not breathing?

****, the writer of my story is one sadistic *******. I mean, that symbolism. Choking on your own lifeblood? **** near perfect. It would have been the perfect turnaround story. The mentally unstable girl finally truly stands at death's doorstep when she doesn't want to, and she realizes maybe life is worth it. That maybe even a **** up deserves dreams, deserves happiness. The tale should have ended there, right? I learned, I had that moment when I knew I didn't want to die. I felt changed. So if I am so changed, if that is my happy ending, then why am I not breathing?

Happily ever after doesn't exist. Life doesn't work that way. Tragedy is around every corner, particularly when your chemical makeup is in a constant struggle with your will to live. But everyone is so thankful, so happy I am safe and well and normal again. **** normal. **** safe. ******* **** well. If I am so well, then why am I not breathing?

Its great, you know, knowing that the "thankful for being alive" feeling will never last for me. My wiring won't allow it. All around me everyone is so proud. They say I'm strong and brave and better. Funny thing is they totally missed the metaphor. **** my facades, **** my brain, because my blood is thinning, and my world is spinning, and I'm not breathing.

there are no good mirrors
mirrors are full
of morality and preconceived notions

mirrors induce nausea
mirrors take what is true
and turn it around

and around
and around
and around

the more mirrors
the merry-go-round

the kids who get their heads stuck
spinning in time
with turnaround mirrors

there are no good mirrors
leave them behind
with the roundabout children
breaking turnaway faces
to wear the new ones
they've taken
newly born to turn-of-phrase places
all made of glass

all walking a thread
hauling D-I-Y lies
every give-it-up day

there are no good mirrors
only bad-for-you windows

I want it smooth
Poetry, rough and smooth
Therefore, play me the
rough melodies, not to
the sensual ear
You soft trumpeter,
keep on playing though
Just get new lungs
Change is good
So play the trombone
Play it hard,
I want it rough
When my heart beats faster
than the speed of light, and
my mind experience,
a forceful mental awakening,
a turnaround, new perspective.
Rough is soothing
Rough is healing
That rough melodica.

You think the painful sound
of goodbyes,
are the worst,
that there can't be
anything more unimaginable,
than that,
but I cup my ears,
a sound more deafening,
as eardrums break & my heart,
brought every time in the leaving
death isn't the only way,
but as I lie here next to you
in the silence with your back turned to me,
I contemplate that thought,
connect with me emotionally you say,
I've tried,
I'm not a mind reader
after all,
no communication,
will **** it every time,
so true,
not matter how intelligent I am,
the cold air so telling,
where'd we go anyway?

We act like were good,
such a stupid show,
stupid girl, stupid love,
I say well done,
my dear,
I say to you,
hey bravo,
that young man was here today,
again,
I didn't ring him,
he did just stop by,
I think,
and he sure thinks I'm special,
& I am,
don't you know?
he kept saying so and that you didn't,
he sees what you didn't notice,

I heard a soft grumbling in his voice,
a sweet wondering,
sounds of temptation,
relieving of frustration,
calling my Gypsy heart,
I'm faithful
but you give me a loving kiss,
& a hug, say how wonderful I am,
we look so happy,
I play along,
laughing,
oh you praise my hands,
my cooking,
my sense of humor,
how charming,
very talented,
a poetic license to ***** me over?

He says, I'm beautiful too,
he sees,
they do,
oh & I can dance, wow,
except,
too bad you never dance with me,
even 2 left feet could hear the beat,

& those boys you keep telling 'em,
'till they're green with envy,
and wanting a piece of that pie,
tongues are waging,
all over this town,

I hope you're,
not wonderin' why,
I know that you love me,
I do, I truly do,
but the fact is,
passion shouldn't be so elusive,
or a club you belong,
one so exclusive,

I don't want to be objectified,
don't you see the tears I've cried?
you know, you must,
how hard I've tried?

stop saying those things,
I'm much more than that,
like good poetry is?
you don't want to touch me,
and why?

Loving is free,
and I wish you knew,
how much I wanted you,
I don't NEED anything except
your touch,
but I need it very much,

  I know you don't think that's true
used to seem worthwhile,
had value,
we ached for alone time,
snuck it in,
stolen moments,
stored for later,
you're hibernating
it's all used up,
used to be so optimistic,
now I'm just realistic,

I'm so sorry we disappointed each other,
Love is not so easy,
you asked me to leave,
then said I left you,
a constant tug-of-war,
& constant sorrows,
I never know
exactly where I stand,
seems you left a long time ago,
I just can't figure it out,
gone in empty demands
I quitely folded my hands,

I prayed & I stayed,
my heart never strayed,
even when I was betrayed,
until today that is,
until the unbearable wasting,
eats me whole,

& maybe,
baby,
time to stop this unpoetic rhyme,
I think it's now,
to let this Gypsy spirit to go,
time for me to head,
get on own the road,
time to hit the dusty trail,
that driveway is a callin'
I hear that highway,
hummmm,
and the wind in my hair
& ain't that I don't care,
as my tires are sinking,
here into the sand,
not quite what I had planned,
I put that water bucket down,
cause I'd be likely here to drown,

I just want to be wanted,
the way you want her,
the way he wishes I wanted him,
and the way that he wants me,
to be the only girl that you want to touch,
that you want to kiss
feel, that you want me again,
emmmmm...I can taste it now,
so sweeeet,
I can feel it too,
but I ain't warm no more,
I closed that fridgid door,
and I know that I'm not the one,
you'll never be alone,
you got your memory of her,
a fear of getting close to me,
all to keep you warm this winter,
like a bone,
she'll never leave,
or let you go,
it's interesting lovers treat each other
the way they never treat a friend,
but you're my friend, until the end,
and I'll never really say goodbye,

You & I know it's time for me,
to say farewell,
I grabbed my keys
and I grabbed my coat,
cars waiting, gotta go,
still nothing,
nor a peep,
quiet as a church mouse,

Sang all the desperate love songs
written all the Poetry I can,
you were the centerpiece
of my obsession
I wrapped around you,
like you were my whole world,
thought I was still waiting on your arms,
your touch, a kiss
just turnaround,
but I know now,
that's not true either,
can't change it, can't go back,
or get there from here,
and there's someone else out there
who's wondering and waiting for me
still,
I feel it, like a beat
calling me home,

thank you for sharing yourself,
what you could,
I learned so much
to want more.

My goodbye wish?

I hope you find that too.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

I think the fourth time might be the charm
Let me in I mean no harm
I’ll tidy up the messes made
Show you life’s complex game
Only do things if the feelings right
These thoughts have me up all night

You showed me truth,
when I had doubt;
you took my world,
changed it all about.

I turned from sin,
to ride the glory train;
and I've no doubt,
I'd do it all again.

You picked me up,
when I was down and out;
when once I whimpered,
I now will stand and shout.

I now have shelter,
from my ugly past;
I now have substance,
something that will last.

I gave my burden up,
You carried it for me;
and offered love and joy,
plus all eternity.

sometimes, when I'm in a crowded place
and the voices just get too loud
I just wanna leave. in that moment of
panic
I wanna walk away
just turnaround walkaway
and never come back
go find a rock somewhere
in front of the ocean
and I wanna just sit there and smoke like
six cigarettes

but I never do
I just let my eyes cloud over
and cringe at the peak
of every over-rehearsed laugh

sometimes it gets so bad
I grind my teeth til my bones hurt
like, on the inside

like when my dad told me today
"you know, you should try making more eye contact with people"
and I nearly lost it
I swear my teeth are still humming
and I try to tell him why without crying
and he doesn't understand
and he keeps trying to catch my eye

don't try to help me
and for god's sake don't
please don't
try to ******* fix me

A backward smile
Smiling backwards
A frown turned up
And the up part turned down
A Mexicali turnaround:
Festive pinata
With one stick for a try
Birthday time!

We have here a group, no... a FAMILY
of poets who are the most beautiful,
compassionate people!

I can say without reservation that this is the best site I've ever been on. And the site is only as good as the poets on it. You have really stepped up to the plate and gone to bat for me and my family. By your good thoughts and prayers Miracles have been accomplished in my life.

Update on our little dog Cocoa. She is completely healed. This is nothing less than a miracle. We were able to use a credit card so she could see a veterinarian. But I believe God also answered our prayers and had given her healing. He is such a gracious and loving God that he cares for not only ourselves but the things we love also. Including our pets. I give him all the praise and glory! But I want to thank you all also. There is nothing no more powerful than corporate prayer. So if I seem like I tell you my whole life and ask for prayers I am not trying to burden you. I want to see the Miracles that are happening as they take place. You are powerful. Your prayers and thoughts are powerful. And I love you all from the bottom of my heart. You're so wonderfully talented in every way. People of such diverse nationalities and beliefs but with a single goal. To bring Beauty, inspiration, and understanding to those far away and near. I feel like you're my family. Everytime I press the little heart and read your writings I say a prayer. And I know there are others out there who do the same. I urge those who also experience miracles to write about them. It gives me Faith and Hope the things do change for the better in this world. And if there is a healing or a turnaround in your life it could be answered prayer. I know without reservation that my prayers touch the Throne of God. I don't say this to brag. I want to encourage you to pray and fast. It works. It TRULY DOES.

Hello Poetry ROCKS THE WORLD!!!


LOVE
Catherine °°••☆¤●♡°°••☆¤••°°

when the bridge becomes a pier (Connectivity Poor!)


when:
extended arm, but finds no counterpart, empty air friction,
the bridge becomes a pier, ocean refuses to red sea split, yield,
road divides, dead-ended headed, no turnaround, only STOP! signs

when broken ends are splintered, jagged, glue won’t work, no fix,
two too twisted arms cannot hold on, too tense, too tight,  
being over-alone, solitude passed, secrets go untold

tongue buds are busted broke, vicissitudes of pandemic,
voices, once golden, now just rusted, red flecked word droppings,
only one message from above: Connectivity Poor, Try Life Again, Later!
                                                   <>
?What good is to be a King
when you cannot lead,
what good is to be a shepard
when the flock dying,
what good are David’s psalms
when God is not listening?

I want to thank Anger.
For making me the best person I can be.
Of course, it wasn't really anger.
Anger is just a superficial emotion,
A bandage to cover the holes in your heart
Where all the blood is flooding out of.
No.
Anger was the kick-start.
It was the hammer beating down
On that lump in my throat when I wanted to cry,
Fall down a dark abyss,
Get ripped apart in a black hole,
Give up on everything I believed in,
Everything I worked my whole life for.
Anger motivated me to do something —
Anything —
To numb the pain that was living under my skin.
It wasn't always good.
Sometimes Anger made me jump a few steps back,
Sometimes miles.
Anger was the bundle of nerves dancing under my shoulder blade
That made me get up and fight.
I didn't know who I was fighting
Or what I was fighting for,
I just fought.
I just made a fist and put all the things that stole
What made me me —
My happiness, my well-being, my spirit —
On the target.
Anger is the rush of adrenaline that represses all the real pain
That waits in the deepest, darkest corners of my mind
For me to open the gate.
And with anger, you feel good...enough.
Unfortunately, the rage wears out.
You do too.
All of a sudden, you go from a high to an all-time low.
You're collapsed on the ground,
Heaving for breaths of air as if you were drowning.
It feels like you are deteriorating.  
(Little did I know then that this —
The most excruciating part —
Is where the turnaround really began.)
It's worse than the violence of anger.
This monstrosity, this creature that makes you want to just...
Slice your leg open,
Hits you like an 18-wheeler you couldn't have seen coming.
It's the kind of accident where you can't even recall
What you were doing when it happened.
A total, utter blur.
I really can't remember how I even managed to get up,
It's simply something that happens without one being aware.
You feel like you're in the eye of a tornado,
With zero control of what happens to you,
When the mad chaos stops or where you're thrown off to.
All you see is the constant spinning of everything terribly wrong,
Circling you like the planets out of orbit.
The laws of physics have changed.
The world is, quite literally, upside down.
I wish I could retrace my steps to figure out what potion I took
That turned me sane again.
Everyone's journey of recovery is different.
Scars don't all heal the same.
I can say though, there is a day when you'll realize that —
Somehow, with whatever impossible magic —
You're okay.
You are breathing.
Your heart is beating.
Blood is flowing through your veins.
You are a whole person,
Not just fragments haphazardly glued together
For an ostentatious mosaic.
And that's the moment.
That's when you know,
In the depths of your heart,
That you'll continue to be okay.
And nothing is ever the same after that.
I promise.