The cultural filters are all in place
And truth, some say, is past its sell-by date
Weak hymns embalmed by hippies, and lost in space
Where time is always 1968

A poison-green tattoo on a fleshy back
No incense, but the Purell’s pretty strong
A ten-year-old gobbles his comfort snack
During Communion and a three-chord song

Our bishops quack and honk in flocks and herds -
We need a starets
                                           but all we get are words:


Intensify the Dallas Charter accountability focus accountability exclusively accountability collegial collective accountability responsibility address theme encounter dialectic collegiality variety universality unity flock dealing topic difficult reasons unexplored differences crisis difficult for bishops enable abusers gravely irreparably failures governance responsibility question engage conversation point brother problematic behavior cultivate culture correctio fraterna enables offending other recognize criticism opportunity to tasks related willingness personally mistakes to each other feeling maintain fraternal relationship cases we damaging weakness anecdotal parenthesis to his speech encounters course ministry recollection forgive counseling for healing discussing matter rationally headway realized psyche of the person measure semblance justice inability forgive his  apparently perplexing consternating remarked noting changed personality of person realize humility mistakes learn mistakes better question unanswered unaddressed mistakes allowed consequences mishandling cases gathering conferences participants and journalists effective concrete measures combat scourge scandal technical theological sense term list reflection points adjunct secretary special portfolio combatting meeting chief architects roadmap for our discussion very, very concrete understatement seriously utter understatement things discussed follow-up meeting continued model of reform the so-called intensify the Dallas Charter metropolitan model metropolitan investigating disciplining wayward ecclesiastical provinces briefing responded you have to read the footnote disgrace investigations systemic coverup dismissed briefing expressed hope report position power prominence leadership structure report findings influence broader jurisdictions Accountability focus accountability exclusively accountability collegial collective accountability responsibility address theme encounter dialectic collegiality variety universality unity flock dealing topic difficult reasons unexplored differences crisis difficult for bishops enable abusers gravely irreparably failures governance responsibility question engage conversation point brother problematic behavior cultivate culture correctio fraterna enables offending other recognize criticism opportunity to tasks related willingness personally mistakes to each other feeling maintain fraternal relationship cases we damaging weakness anecdotal parenthesis to his speech encounters course ministry recollection forgive counseling for healing discussing matter rationally headway realized psyche of the person measure semblance justice inability forgive his  apparently perplexing consternating remarked noting changed personality of person realize humility mistakes learn mistakes better question unanswered unaddressed mistakes allowed consequences mishandling cases gathering conferences participants and journalists effective concrete measures combat scourge scandal technical theological sense term list reflection points adjunct secretary special portfolio combatting meeting chief architects roadmap for our discussion very, very concrete understatement seriously utter understatement things discussed follow-up meeting continued model of reform the so-called Metropolitan model metropolitan investigating disciplining wayward ecclesiastical provinces briefing responded you have to read the footnote disgrace investigations systemic coverup dismissed briefing expressed hope report position power prominence leadership structure report findings influence broader jurisdictions accountable faithful promises episodes  accountability supportive talking collegiality obligation misbehavior failures circumstances reputation representative discreet inquiries interview expression concern geographically confronted reported matter subject investigating disciplining malfeasance proposal wrongdoing explained carefully considered matter alternatives remarks paragraph  rehearsed alternatives footnote 6 of text speeches delivered sessions briefing spoke involvement laity lay involvement transparency transparent offending other recognize criticism opportunity to tasks related willingness personally mistakes to each other feeling maintain fraternal relationship cases we damaging weakness anecdotal parenthesis to his speech encounters course ministry recollection forgive counseling for healing discussing matter rationally headway realized psyche of the person measure semblance justice inability forgive his  apparently perplexing consternating remarked noting changed personality of person realize humility mistakes learn mistakes better question unanswered unaddressed mistakes allowed consequences mishandling cases gathering conferences participants and journalists effective concrete measures combat scourge scandal technical theological sense term list reflection points adjunct secretary special portfolio combatting meeting chief architects roadmap for our discussion very, very concrete understatement seriously utter understatement things discussed follow-up meeting continued model of reform the so-called Metropolitan model metropolitan investigating disciplining wayward ecclesiastical provinces briefing responded you have to read the footnote disgrace investigations systemic coverup dismissed briefing expressed hope report position power prominence leadership structure report findings influence broader jurisdictions accountable faithful promises episodes  accountability supportive talking collegiality obligation misbehavior failures circumstances reputation representative discreet inquiries interview expression concern geographically confronted reported matter subject investigating disciplining malfeasance proposal wrongdoing explained carefully considered matter alternatives remarks paragraph  rehearsed alternatives footnote 6 of text speeches delivered sessions briefing spoke involvement laity lay involvement transparency transparent intensify the Dallas Charter…

So much hate in this world
Has gone unaddressed.
We hear plenty
About slavery in the early American days
And how how a civil war abolished it.

But our children do not understand
That there is still slavery today
Humans are being sold
In a secret industry that's booming
Here in the US and abroad.

We talk about racism in the 60s
And the future generation does not know
That men and women worldwide
Are being persecuted
Based on the pigments in their skin.

The Jewish Holocaust in World War II
Is discussed in classrooms
All over the earth.
Yet, the students remain blind
To the genocides that are prevalent in countries
That are flying under the radar.

Millions of people, slaughtered
Because of their beliefs and ethnicity
And we just sit back and let it happen
With our heads in the sand.

Women and children, beaten and *****
Because of their husbands' and fathers' sins.
Children being drugged
And forced to fight
For an adult's war
By those who were supposed to protect them.
And all we can say is
"How sad."

Many of us throw money in an emotionless pail
To help the causes so foreign to us.
Why can't we wake up
And help the less fortunate?
Even the most destitute of the United States
Do not know the poverty and violence
That prevail in developing countries.
And this is not solely their problem
But one for the human race as a whole.

Teachers, are you listening?
Won't you speak up
And teach the future leaders
About things less commonly discussed
Because they aren't so happy?
Abandon your pride
Because those events that go unaddressed
Leave us unaware.

Here I am, penning verses that paint vibrant images
Expressing my yearning through ostentatious displays
But do these efforts impinge upon -- even in the slightest --
The twisted fate we have been endowed?
*I do not like to think this is all for naught

I recently got reminded... Oh how I am caught
In a delicate web of disillusions
Make me see what is actually not
Make invisible my heart's secret questions

Been successful in putting aside all grief
But truth has it's way to make you pay
You can bury all grievances; you can mask all disbelief
But it'll all catch up; these things you've kept at bay

Make your silly compromises
To have the the best you just make allowances
Keep up your futile pretences
Accommodate your selfish preferences

Day had dawned where each question need their answer
Questions I've shrugged and left unaddressed
Indistinguishable when fact and fiction begin to blur
When dreams and reality have coalesced

Tonight I lay with the load I bring
Body asleep with my heart fully awake
Blessing or curse, this rude awakening
Decisions and choices left for the following suns to make

Today I wrote a pathetic poem again,
With the pencil of soul that I had sharpened nights and days before,
I then tied it to an old, weak pigeon's feet,
To be sent out to unaddressed land—
Carrying my sorrow and gloom along.

I've always been a hopeless soul,
Dreaming about peace of heart-
Which seems to only exist 6 feet under.

Now I'm waiting by my window again,
Wishing for the pigeon to return,
With a poem tied to its feet,
With the voice of the Reaper,
Coming for me, here at last.

I.R.

Endless envelopes of paper mail
But hands tremble at the presence of one unaddressed letter,
The card stock glances around, tantalizing to Whomever is caught by its wandering eyes,
As they gently reflect the suns bright glare

As if tempting each of us to open it,
A letter with no return address and no destination simply sits,
With it’s stainless skin—like freshly fabricated silk,
Pleading for a curious soul with whom to share its contents,

Its slight edges sit and yet intimidate
They must surely pack a sharp punch when provoked,
No one dares step to the unaddressed letter,
Fearing that one droplet of our unworthy burgundy blood may be enough to permanently stain the stainless

In my garden, there are cigarette corpses
None of which were ever yours.
Were they yours, I’d have grieved as
Their fires collapsed and their breath grew meagre,
Until the last of you upon them dwindled in winks of ash.

In my wardrobe, there is a shirt
Which I’m not sure is mine or yours.
Were it yours, you’d want it on your back
And not draping you across my mornings as I dress,
Yet I fear I’d miss the smudges you put in my dawns.

In my pocket, there is a note
Unaddressed but undoubtedly mine.
Were it yours, it wouldn’t be written
In such naked ink,
It'd be dormant in that head of yours.

In my mind, there are the ghosts
Of kisses unaware and helpless smiles.
Were they yours too, your jumper would still
Be woven with absinthe, and your arms with mine.
No more than ghosts; they breathe down my neck.

Do they breathe down yours?

Sunday’s an auspicious day to suggest
that you, as a student, take a recess
in order to try and decompress
from our studying and stress

Now, of course, if you’re so possessed,
or some might even say obsessed,
you could study for a test,
we all want to do our best
but some work habits can oppress
and leave one all depressed

Just  take a needed rest
and if your needs are unaddressed
get caressed when you’re undressed
some would have that thought suppressed
or simply left it unexpressed
but under oath I would attest
and to a priest I have confessed
all my roommates acquiesced
that for relaxation it’s the best
and quickest way to get unstressed

there are a hundred things I could suggest
you type “A”s tend to make everything a contest
in this, there are no professors for you to impress
this isn’t a competitive, academic trap, trick or jest
I just know that, on Monday, this girl will be refreshed

It’s the hollow sound of a toast to fill the silence of unaddressed questions,
the celebratory clanging of glass on glass
ringing from assumptions based on past experiences and theories
     from synapses of protagonists or all
that is mystical; a god or a God
          for the rhetoric of bad days; the precatory shoulda, woulda, coulda’s
   you can count with all digits and the humdrums,
the lalala’s to songs with lines you can never remember.

It is to fill in, with pencil, the
blanks of unclear intentions, capricious endings,
     the what comes after the highest number, tentative now, for it is a trick question,
the true stories of Bermuda Triangles and Altantises,
          for the ones Amelia kissed goodbye and all that is brief,
               promises neither broken nor kept;
     some, hypotheses for what happens after waiting.

               It is the makeshift certainty ascertained the day he left
          all these unfinished, unanswered, incomplete… things. The sure of it
     invented by staking everything in a nebulous something,
a nebulous anything that will have to do, like cotton patches
     on satin dresses or saints for hopeless causes.
               It was the invention to quench the constant
          need to know, to fill the in-between start to end
       for all that we can not stop. A made-up map by pirates below ten
for every time we must set destinations beyond unchartered unknowns;
                     a make-believe place holder to hold us to the relief
          we get from closure when
                  the universe gives us none.

It is the lemniscate, the amen,
the St. Jude we assign to our altars
until we find actual satin or the aviatrix herself,
          or surrender everything in the spirit of faith
                    or believe
          that not all things unfound are lost.

I see you put a ring on her finger, so you made her your wife
So she's the one you want with the rest of your life.
And that's alright baby.
You chose the better woman for you
But does better make it right baby?
I can't tell you about her heart because I've never been in it.
But I can tell you about the beat of your heart when you hit it.
And when our eyes unite
The fires of desire enlight the flames to ignite
Damsel in distress
You used to be my shining knight
Despite the shadows lingering over the battlefield indicating this might be too dull for you to fight.
So now we just avoid eye contact outright.
But baby you can't tell me that her ***** is this tight.
She's got a maze of expiration dates between her thighs, and I wasn't lying when I told you that I'd never let you out of sight, and I won't.
But don't look me in the eyes and say you love me if you don't.
It's okay baby.
If you need to get away I got a place for you to stay baby.
Foreplay in the doorway,
I got a couple roles for you to portray
While she's upstairs sleeping
Say,
Remember those days baby?
You'll always have a special place in my heart because you've always had a special place in that dark pink treasure chest.
I gave you the keys so you could come and go as you please but it seems we left a few things unaddressed.
Reassess:
It's mine too.
Sharing under the protection of my bed sheets,
The complexion of your *******;
The collection of our affection,
There has been redirection to our connection.
There is no love in making love if we're using *** to untie knots.
Tell me what's the point of holding on to something that is not.
But I'll hold on to your memory.

My infatuation meter is
on the fritz
It hasn't worked
since the reading of you
When I come in contact
with others,
no sort of result is
produced

The spark inside
has finally died,
and you're the one who drenched it
in crocodile tears -- claiming you're too weak
to face your fears...it's like looking
at a reflection of
myself this year...

We could have battled them all
      together
But instead we're settled to
     friends of fair-weather
I am the one who is suffering;
for
still today, you appear
                                      in my dreams

Decades from now,
I envision my
solitary conquest:
Success;
from recording my innards
I've always repressed
And of course,
an unfilled void, I fear not
to attest
All because that spark
inside me remained
unaddressed

But I have no more patience
or time to invest
in a folly; I'll rid
of my broken meter I
now detest
It died with you, now perhaps
your memory too
may be finally
laid to rest

I look at the maps hanging up on my wall
admiring the world for the best it got
yet i see
Poverty swell and trivial refugees struggle
and there are cardinal power wars
destitute crave for food shelter and cloths

O' why lord ?
"Its the beginning of the horror flick, my son
there are copious others , yet unaddressed and unresolved "

However i reckon
how simple it is to conquer despair hanging up on my wall
For today mighty fighter  
stop and sleep a lil more,
cuddle your love and hold her a lil long
refashion your battle cry  to cry of love
Shed tears its no harm
miracle will happen as you kiss her once more .

You are the puppet fighter, no doubt you are strong
they know your strength , they are foxy back stabbers brother
they'll aflame your soul ,
Don't forget you have love back home ...

i do not believe in holding things in.

that is how bottled messages collect on deserted beaches,

how unaddressed letters begin filling desk drawers,

how unanswered questions spill over into one word midnight conversations.

communication was created for a reason,

verbal expression and languages formed in order to allow humans to connect.

when did words become so disconnected,

a way to fill space, a burden, something that has to be done.

when did silence become louder than heated debates,

texts become more crucial than ‘working it out’ over coffee,

media posts become more legitimized than countless apologies for the same god ****** thing over and over again.

who taught us to swallow our inner conflicts and emotions?

who said expression was weak and suppression was strong?

who taped our mouths and allowed our finger tips to take over,

a society of silence and screens?

these words mean nothing without you to say
"will you please speak like a lady?"
and i probably would
if i could,
[but your silence
is like an unfamiliar hand pressed
closely against
my marmoreal skin
leaving nothing]
but
mouth-shaped bruises on my thighs and
questions on my tongue and
unaddressed letters on my bedside table

5 am and i got no ghosts here
my host
her boast
with martini and charie'
Were something outta a
dream
I ****** with
                        form
And she ****** right
                                     back
There's no way to ever have nature
When she'll eventually get you back
A tax of eternity was the way I was seeing things
With envelopes unaddressed to lover's I've yet to meet
With the heroines still musing
About dragons and angels
And swords that ring freedom
But are sheathed for the season
Can we see what it means
When Simone used to breath?
With her pianos all in heaps
Her feelings upon her hands and knees
Queen of the ragged, the down on the luck and poor
Streets pour their tears forevermore
There was something in a voice that was broken and cold
Yes there was something in the sight
Of a tree with dying moss
O' time you pass so quick and of course we say we miss
The way that the young one's muse
About the first pains of love's drift
How they force me to stare at walls white with worry
Tiresome and bored with their sorrowful purrings
Like a cat musing
In the sunlights music
How great it was when I screamed at a moon naked **** with **** all out!
Get over this love that so many have been screaming about!
See the illusion of the movin' trucks on the open highway
These dollar machines are stirring with the lack of a souls blurr
Get down to the grit
Get that fix
Sound with a horn made out of Jesus's crown
For the memories of the future have forgotten you already
And the man that made his money
Is planning his honey moon with his honey
While your lost and alone
With the thought...
"I've got nowhere to go..."

How much more can these Trojan sands consume?
They have my honor, my armor ad the spear that I threw
My stricken comrades fight with bravery yet stand in their sorrow
Fearing the ashen spears will hit their mark tomorrow

The kindness of the Achaean camp is dead
And for such a crime I'll make these sands run red

My dearest comrade; my brother in arms
The sun god left me with mere memories of your charms

He ripped your own sweet life away
Like fog being dissipated by a bright shining ray

You were stripped and Hector had my blazing helm
The darkness that descended felt like it came from another realm

I spread ash on my face and defiled my hair with my hands
My clothes and hair were coated with the hated Trojan sands

Antilochus kneeled near weeping his proud heart out
Clutching my wrists for fear I would, with the iron blade, rip my throat out

My mother heard my try from the bottom of the sea
So, she came to camp to try to comfort me

She cradled my head in her hands, tears streaming down her face
I felt the skin I knew I’d never more embrace

My mother says I’m doomed to death by the brother of the one who stole your breath
Then let me die at once since it was not by fate to save my dearest comrade from his death

I could feel the anger bubbling inside me
I suppressed the urge to scream like a war torn banshee

No one could stop me from fighting; no one could persuade me now
To Hector’s greatness I soon began to disavow

I will go back to war with Hephaestus’ armor buckle to my back
I could all but hear the screams of the men I would soon attack

I will fight without the blazing armor
I will **** all those who oppose me down to the last lowly farmer

These sands give me no mercy
However there is no controversy

I will avenge your death; I must
You were the only one I could ever trust

Breathing room in war is all too brief
So I’ll make Hector’s blood stain every clover leaf

I lay my hands on your icy-cold chest
Everyone else will go unaddressed

I will not burn your honey-soft skin
Not till Hector has atoned for his sin

I try to clear your blood-clotted wounds
The thought of loosing you I could not attune

I killed Hector with my sword in his throat
But there is still more to you I could devote

A dozen Trojan sons , a snow white ox, and a lock of golden hair
This is cruel, cruel warfare

Your silver, glittering ghost spoke
I reached out to seize you but you disappeared in a whisp of smoke

I weep to these sands my ravaging tears
They are the epitome of my greatest fears

Although the (your) carpet under my feet hurts me, i still bear to stand on it.
I wonder how you have made it so far, but the worst thing you have created is this common ground.
Many have sacrificed their lives, there’s so much blood.
I bet someday there will be mine too.
You like to save this as memoirs; of the deaths of souls.
Lost them to you, your victorious prize.
I would go down this instance, but I’m stronger than you assume. I'm reluctant.
Just like every other woman was when she stood here.
So im writing this down for centuries to become.
Wrath that intensifies as I uncover you is perpetual, the softest thing about you is hardly the first time we met.
I walked this distant, even though my feet ached, even though i couldn’t carry it.
I wandered this far and made it to these (un)common grounds that have needles for yarns, hot coals for clouds.
I am like a withered child whose unaddressed anxiety turns to immorality.
I have despised you for so long; I have forgotten what love feels like.
Each morning I carry fog into every deserted island, wishing I was deserted too.
But I’m afraid the day I will crawl my way out of here, I will slip into old patterns.
There must be something you should be unwilling of, it simply stops you from doing it.
Fear is an absurd paltry word, it fathoms all the energy in the world to push away one or maybe two things.
I fear several details, and maybe that is why I loathe being here.
I am tired now, so I will lie down;
Make place for these needles to pierce into my back.
I would prefer them not to harm so much, but beauty is pain.
Its agony, sickness and ache.
I just never considered love would be.
I close my eyes and try to imagine every softer and brighter thing I Can remember; and that is only something I know is yet to come.
A (my) lover of muse, of candles, and crisp leaves.
Of moonlight and freezing breeze.
Of everything I ever hoped for; but less.
Our dreams would merge on the longest night. And we shall spend ages in each other's arms; an undying sight.

It pains me to know that
you don’t read these anymore.
It is hard for me to write
them to anyone but you,
but they feel fake,
without purpose,
when the only eyes
that will read
are the ones I don’t
care about seeing them.

These come out by the dozen,
such is my disease,
but they come and fall
to ash on the page
like small bits of cigarette,
burning off and away
unto the endlessness of night.
These poems drift
and are lost like letters,
unaddressed and
left at the post,
between the cracks
and forgotten.

To all poets writing hourly poem
I offer my unqualified admiration
Place them with honor in my hall of fame
For truly glorifying our poetic nation.*

They keep the windows open never shut the mind’s door
Can’t suppress them schedules of work hectic daily chore
For who knows when the sky passes by stops dead the falling rain
Uncared a feeling rolls by goes unaddressed angst of pain!

Isn’t a rainbow painted out there on doorstep waiting the season
A bird is chirping the song of hope giving life a compelling reason
Isn’t a face waiting to be seen love pining to be released from a heart
Who knows when dies a river midstream each moment’s scenes depart!

The farther these poets go they dream for a farther reach
To hunt out the dark demons blind alley’s fearsome witch
Who knows when the light goes out burns out the fiery sun
This body turns to trails in dust with so much little yet done!

Morning people shelling in
drafts of ocean breath , a compelling blue visage housing
the lonely , the lovers , the forlorn
an the unaddressed
Sandpipers hammer for their dawn feast
Laughing gulls hover before me
The blue plane speaks of eternity
Crashing waves recall bitter journeys
New sun speaks of redemption , of
seashore nurture and admonition* ...

Sometimes  prayer
seems to be an
unaddressed letter
it will neither
reach the destination
nor can we
take it back
and write
the address

Sometimes you gotta walk thru the muck & mire to come out clean & clear on the other side.
Somethings can't be avoided or circumvented.
They just stall your life until you deal with them.
Sometimes you can say OK so this happened, it's why I do this or that and then move on.
Sometimes doing that is just away to avoid dealing with things too painful.
Sometimes you can go your whole life without those unaddressed things causing you problems.
Other Times you reach a point where in order to go further in your life,
Heal yourself and become whole, you HAVE to let them out or DIG them out and deal with them.
I'm gonna need a really big shovel...

your screams were your letters
unaddressed
your dreams are your betters
unimpressed

Just like that,
I felt a sprinkle of pain,
You know the kind that gnaws and grows,
And nibbles your insides.

What started it, I wonder,
A buried thought,
a deserted experience,
Befallen, buried, squashed,
Run asunder, but still alive.

It pushes through the barriers to say,
Hey you! Yes you!
I exist,
Don’t think your looking away,
Will stop me coming back, some day.

Huh! I beat it hollow,
and there it’s slimy self crept back,
I had learnt not to feed it as it would grow,
I keep it on such a strict spartan diet,
My oh My! Look how bulbous it looks!

Hmmmm! Pain, were you feeding inside of me merrily while I was asleep,
Chewing my tissues, chomp chomp, burp,
Deep so very deep,
I feel I am missing a bone or two,
you gluttonous pain,
I am sure you’ve gobbled up many cells too.

Dark, gray, silent, doom,
Am I on for lifelong gloom,
Aah! Hrmph! Boo hooo!
What do I do,
So many around me,
Who do I reach out to?

Oh I do reach out,
And they say,
You? Couldn’t be,
You’re so strong,
It doesn’t fit you well, this pain you see!

I laugh, Is this pain
A size smaller for me,
Am I self indulgent,
In saying it hurts.

I start looking around,
And see many like me,
Laughter hiding the pain,
Cloaked well, their touch warm,
The tremble reaching out in vain.

It’s tough, this despair,
Sometimes with valid cause,
Many times so much accumulated,
Unaddressed, unmet, covered with gauze.
It rears it’s ugly head
For many
Eating their insides,
It’s canine jaws,
Sharp and unrelenting.

I still don’t have an answer,
Who does really,
Expectations, recriminations, justifications, validations, manipulations, mechanisations,
Eat us up a bit more.
We sleep off some days
hoping to sleep away to nothingness.

And then we arise to the morn,
The sun filtering through, casting its warmth,
A bird in the distance chirping away,
Pain still there but so are my fingers glowing like starlight along the Milky Way,
My limbs stretch and I purr away,
The clocks tick tock,
Reminds me of a chance,
A new beginning,
A fresh start,
A fresh me,
A wounded but mighty heart!  

Facing my pain instead of sublimating it,
Nursing it tenderly instead of ill treating it,
I know you’ll ease out, heal out,
And I will be better each day,
Because this life, this beautiful life,
Is worth living each moment, every day.

When I face you, I shall share you,
Tell your story to those I want to,
And suddenly, you will feel acknowledged and dance way into the oblivion because you’ve been sung to, heard, cuddled and celebrated.

Till then, I trudge along...