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There’s a saying I know well, The road to hell, Is paved with good intentions, Pay attention crusaders, Freedom fighters, And bigot haters, When I was young, At heart and in mind, My kind of justice, Was just as true,
From birth you are given a role many would deem inhumane You are forced into clothes and put to work for selfish men One day you are chosen to fulfil your duty Even though your obligation will change you into
Emily was a recluse a quiet introvert she sat alone penning poems wrought with pain and hurt a lady great I do relate I too crave solitude though in her verse she did not curse and mine sometimes are crude
You are not the same You writhe in pain from limitless loss Eyes fixed on an untouchable point Thoughts have unrecognizable voices Happiness suffocates beneath an iced over pond Please come to the surface….breathe again But no answer from pink
Under the warmth of summery stars And old, bored ceiling fan That help the heat descend From our cemented roof Onto our old wooden bed, Let us put our past and our clothes Behind the night. Let us play the
When I look in the mirror of my reflection, I see just another human being swallowed up in depression. When you look in the mirror do you like what you see? Is the self esteem absentee? Are you only 5″
“The thunder did flash and the rain did fall, The wind too stirred up and started to creep and crawl. The sky turned dark and the lightening tore through, On and on it rumbled, a sinister grey the skies grew.
Glowing sea tries to touch the sky, again and again, As I appeal for your love even in inevitable constrain. Endless sea merges with sky far away from the earth, Just like our souls amalgamate with eternal love and mirth.
Ooh.! Daddy… I’ve never known you, Never ever owned you; And the word ‘Father’, Would always remain to haunt; As an unresolved riddle to me. Like a missing memory in me. Although I grew already, Seeing somebody, so much like
I have dipped my fingers in the blood of the victim and asked for the version of the surgeon. The precocious death? Do I need another witness? Who was trapped under the fallen tree? Only the passer – by was
I was the type of person, That held onto things too tight, Unable to release my grip, When it no longer felt right. And although it gave me blisters, And my fingers would all ache, I always thought that holding
THREE POEMS 1 NEW YEAR The dates on calendar question all my undone actions and memories that haunt or fade in nightly nakedness stumbling toward the next day’s sun without celebration at 65 January jeers my degenerating sex a still
You know I do not hope any intermission, between life and death. My path goes nowhere. A hiatus between the mirrors has questions. From childhood I was always floating between the meanings of lessons unknown. I longed for straight humilities.
Conviction is an illusion to take your choice away Belief is the act of choice within the confines of an illusion In life there is also death to give balance to think you have a choice at all The choice
Insane I turn around an amputee to live, for not living fighting the inner war speared, lacerated, like neanderthal in cave my weapon the serrated moon cried in fluted dark a glimpse of bare bones the ash of a bleeding
As I reminisce un past songs It brings back the memories The times of laughter And youth Hoping to remember more good days The songs replay in my mind As I search for our memories From our time of youth
Ages ago, story of a girl Dejected for what she looked Thinking just fair and beautiful Had rights to glory booked Did not realize that beauty Lies in the eyes of beholder Always self deprecated Life felt like a boulder
Every day when I wake up And I see the SUN, Walking down the street, I see kids having fun. I admire GOD’S perfect creations Like the BEAUTIFUL flowers that grow, Trees that grow very high,. And even the EVER
Loneliness. A word meant to hurt. Something hard to handle. Alone, all alone. Loneliness. We all have faced this. Something, we can not change, even if we try our best. Loneliness. This is a part in everyone’s life. Old or
Leaving the concrete jungle far behind, towards Nature travels my mind. In search of solace, as the wind softly kisses my face. Grass moist and green, such relief from the cruel and mean. Meandering trails through the woods, leading me
I remember when I was just 16, So much of my life was yet unseen. I was searching for something to help me discover, What set me apart, made me different from others. And there in my neighborhood, where we
The vagabond was once again on the window, Begging love and asking to open the gate, And the fairy inside the house reluctant, Said helpless she was being slave of the fate, First you peep in the four windows, Starting
From the ages past, the Swamp in the Niger Delta was inhabited by people who live on the proceed from the murky Swamp Then in a stroke of Nature’s benevolence, the murky Swamp started oozing out the wealth and riches
I’m going there soon a place I’ve never been I imagine it smells of pine forests and is shady with the Boise river running nearby rather shallow its speed impossible for a newcomer to gauge there’s a woman there who’s
I wasn’t me anymore, Why I wonder? When I woke up from my Deepest slumber. What changed me? Or induced me To change, I did ponder. I looked around I looked at me In the mirror, my salient Feature staring
Be my soul in outrageous sunshine of knowledge. I need a shade of tears. The barrels were still smoking after the war. I will not wake up in morning. Lightless the day will mourn for the fallen moon on the
While tracing a home by charcoal on a white paper, I hear, a word comes from the wolf. A fat was being pumped into the face of a tryant to inflate him into a giant. Butterflies were undulating with excitement