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three blue
three blue
three blue
can’t you
hear it
too
the unutterable
sound of silence
"I'm fine." is her response.
but, she isn't. she's just hoping to convince herself that she is, when she smiles and tells them she's fine. Just to ease her little mind, she's puts on a mask. She folds up all of her problems and disappointments and shoves them away. Just for the day. Thinking maybe, just for now, she could be happy. Thinking if she forces that fake smile, it would one day become genuine. A real smile. A genuinely happy smile. That's all she ever wanted. But the thing is, nobody knows. Nobody knows who she is inside, or how hard it is for her.  Not her parents, not her best friend. Because she wears a disguise.  She hides it oh so well, sometimes she herself can't tell. And because if they knew, they'd say she's exaggerating. She wants attention. She's just having a bad day. Well the bad day turned into a bad night. A bad week. A bad month. A bad year. But she doesn't want a bad life. She doesn't try to make herself miserable. She tries really hard to be happy. Sometimes too hard. She's learned not to expect anything from anyone, because with great expectation comes great disappointment. So much disappointment. Enough to make her sadness turn into emptiness. And she would rather be sad than empty.
thirty years
since Mark gunned you down
thirty years, passed
like a long sleepless night
that ends with taunting morning light
no brilliant sunrise grandly pronouncing
a glorious new dawn of man
although that would have been your plan
with your entreaties to give peace a chance
and imagine, imagine, imagine

now I kneel in this rain gray park
like a reject from some holy ark
a pilgrim in doleful disappointed pose
after seeing what your earthly brothers chose
was not to imagine a world of peace and love
but to wear reality like a cast iron glove
making mockery of your martyred chants
proceeding like a billion scurrying ants
deaf to your childlike pleas

across the soaked soil where your ashes lay
yesterday and today…and tomorrow
I feel the soggy sorrow
that you would have felt
if you could still see
all the rage of humanity
written on the 30th anniversary of the ****** of John Lennon--today makes 33 years since Mark Chapman murdered John
 Dec 2013 YouKnowWhoIAm
Haniiine
Nothing will last.
And eventually one of you will leave.
Because no matter how much
you wanted to save someone from drowning,
you will always be busy
trying to save yourself from the flood.
hand-caresses all over the chest,
****** licking and pinching,
tickling the belly with a solitary
tongue-wetted finger.

in someone's possession,
the
on/off switch,
seems to be
busted.

so when
a pause to breathe,
asking me what does
one want for
breakfast,

I answer Her,

*"Please sir, I want some more."
We have become a nation of Tennessee fainting goats,
muscles freezing in the panic of social discord,
poised on the cusp of dread, eyeing a mass grave.

In the end no one really dies, the only dilemma being unpardonable
poverty, needless hunger and children born with drug addiction,
pawns in a chess game of life lacking raison d'etre.

And shall I live my span leaving no mark upon history?
What occlusion obstructs human decency in this land of riches,
barricades the impassable gulf, as if echoing a distant waterfall?

I have walked this sidewalk to where it ends and seen the destitute.
How the poet in me shudders and like the fainting goat,
collapses in the sadness of our mutual story, our personal holocaust!
i
am not
your
cigarette break
 Dec 2013 YouKnowWhoIAm
Ghenwa
i'm not beautiful
never will be
i'm not smart
you can't say that to me
don't tell me nice things
i am none of them
i am horrible
a monster
a human
i can't look at myself in the mirror
and when i do
i see eyes
showing disgust
i see them shaming
what they're looking at
i don't want you to tell me lies
let me drown and die in the truth
the harsh truth
i am not beautiful
i am not being humble
i am not beautiful
and never will be
not physically
not in soul
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