So here I am again, alone, on a typical December evening,
Waiting for her and the kids to come home.
They left earlier today, but why, she wouldn’t say,
Only that she would be back in time,
To have dinner on the table by no later than a few minutes to nine.
That was three hours ago, and still no sign of that….
But she’ll be back, she always comes back,
It’s probably just the roads, the snow came down heavy, and probably hid the track,
That leads through the woods to get down to our shack, it’s special you know,
We got it together so we would always know where our love nest is at…
So what if I lost my job, we have each other, I don’t care about her mom.
Always in her ear about my anger and liquor,
They are mine and she knew about it, we always work through it together,
She knows I didn’t mean to hit her, it was just one too many shots of liquor,
Cause vodka on the rocks tops any day off, I just wish she wouldn’t ruin it with all her nagging talk.
About how she has sooooo much to deal with and that I do nothing to contribute…
Does she know how hard it is to find a job anymore, it’s not like ones just going to walk through the door…
Where is she, I need her to take away some of this anger, to cool off some of this rage, instead I’m being tortured, alone in this cage.
No one here but me, forcing me to take a good look at the walls around me,
The pictures there, show moments of time that looked better,
Frozen forever so they might be remembered, and used to forget all the bad things that led here…
If she doesn’t come back I know what I’ll do
I’ll go out in the snow and make sure the path is clear,
And tell myself “now she’ll have to come back to you.”
I mean how could she not with all I just went through,
It was a lot of snow and I damn near froze, that’s way worse than all of her woes…
What would she do if I died, then again, I don’t even know if she’d cry.
I’ve been such a piece of work, and you know what, what’s the temperature as it is,
I could just lay down and take a nap in her shirt,
Really it’s mine, but she had to have it,
So when I wasn’t around she could still have my scent.
Now it smells like her even though her warmth is no longer present,
It’s purpose still stays…
So as I lay myself down on the dirt, the liquor in my veins will keep me numb to the pain.
Till I pass out and sleep under the cool white sheets,
Then maybe she’ll forgive me, and my kids won’t have to ever visit me.
I won’t ruin them, and make them take it out on their friends…
That’s what’s best, I’ll finally take responsibility for this mess…
And as the cold takes me into her embrace, I feel my heartbeat take on a slower pace,
And then as the snow covers my back, and she caresses my face,
It all fades to black, no more rage in…
I’ve been called worthless, no purpose, would be better off six feet under the dirt…sssh
The truth is, my self worth was worth less than that dirt, and I had put myself below the earth
Then she came along and dragged me up from the ground, saying “you’re not lost, just waiting to be found.”
My love for her, the only time its ever been true, was what kept me alive,
The only reason this poem is even in front of you.
As all stories of true love see fit, my heart shattered when I realized there was no worth in it.
Friends only, never lovers, and so I took my broken heart and placed it where I thought was
The best place for worthless things to be, right there in the dirt where she found me.
I felt bad, so I toiled all that wretched soil into a place where things of worth can grow productively.
And wouldn’t you know it, my heart that I had cast out as debris
Had healed and grown into my own personal tree.
Never the same love will I ever have again, but still,
The fruit of this tree I share freely with my friends.
A simple kindness saved me, but from that moment has come many others
and I say to all of you, that I am here when needed to be, for I am your loyal brother.
This purpose I know have is simple and true, I pass out kindness from her tree,
In the hope that it will helps you,
To start a garden of your own, so you can help another,
And pass it on forever, until the whole world has recovered.
Why? Why can’t you see? Don’t you see the pain that you are causing me?
Your existence is take, and all I’ve ever done is give,
But still you want more, maybe you don’t want me to live.
So my blood and my body are the last gift, you win.
With my death I have ensured your life, you still harvest my husk, some of you do so and cry.
These claim wrongdoing but harvest still the same, lives born of death and perpetuate the pain.
When my shell is through who will help you?
You’ve never helped each other, only taken, only suffered.
So I cry for you children and I cry for the land and I cry for my oceans that will one day be sand.
These my organs and my bones, even a perfect death cannot atone
For what you have done to me my sons, my daughters, my familiars, my children, my failures .
Why? Why can’t you see?
I guess I forgot to tell you that compassion, understanding, and forgiveness were free,
And that I set aside for you, but you would rather it be me,
Me to have it all so you don’t have to forgive yourself, or others, because you know I have plenty on the shelf
So you do what you please without worry or care,
Hoping that “I’m sorry” is enough and “that’s that so there”
But there’s only so much left soon it will be all gone
Then no more safety net, only swan dives and songs,
And you never learned, so we are all to burn,
And I am sorry for not being enough to take care of you when life is rough
But you’re not listening anyway, no matter how I cry in pain,
Because your life is more important,
And my death was just in vain.
I am from building blocks and k-nex ferris wheels
From happy times at Christmas followed by quiet nights alone
From misunderstood by classmates and teachers, and sad looks upon the world
From music in the air, and books in trees
From the water in the lake, from smoke in the breeze
From time spent and time lost, from can’t remember when
From life in its beginning, from life when it comes to an end
I am a poetic companion and a companion poetic, for not only do I encourage, inspire, and embrace creativity, I also have lived a life of poetry. Indispensable experiences perfectly imperfect to culminate into this monolith of worth who stands in place to brace you and yours, in your poetic life on these unforgiving shores. For no one should forever be alone, whether in the light or the dark, we all will find a home and in those times of joy or pain, a story is written, it just doesn’t always make it to the page. So this monolith will watch and pick you up when you’re unsure, And help you find your poetry so you may share it with the world. For poetry is not just words on a page it’s a statue, A sonnet, A moving dance on the stage, it’s the tears on your face and the smile in your heart in these times when you are alone seeking comfort in the dark and as a companion I will watch over you to say that I am proud and no one can stand in front of you. Just know that you must stand on your own one day not alone, but at our side for when one of us gives way, to that inevitable verse at the end of our song, so there will still be someone there to brace against, and be strong for the next poet unknown whom life been unfair, then your story you pass along so they know you’ve been there, as I will share mine with you when you need me to for I am a poetic companion and as a companion poetic I am here with you.
Segregated and disillusioned, I stand alone in a crowd, secluded, unplugged by an uproar of mental backlash caused from the world Before time was recorded by the victors of wars who chose what the truth is for you. In too deep of a thought, I drowned, till I grass at a truth that pulled me down, deeper, through the layers of ether, and landed me on a lonely sure where only few have stood before, And there, from a lonely tree now all but withered and deceased, I plucked a morsel, that opened my eyes and ears and more, so now, back on the street, I see lies and listen to people talk in their sleep. Forever dreaming a dream of conquest to achieve a higher state of worth to a state that decides they’re worth based on how well they fit into its schemes, and to this I no longer dream. I am awakened, into you who run this carnal dimension, I say that your plans to mire me In your unwashed masses has failed. I am free, and no longer a cog in your machine, and although I am alone, I promise when I find a monkey bone Big enough to wrench up your plans, I will. Then you can sit alone counting all of your bits till it’s time to collect and you find that your cup just won’t fill, and you’re left with a mouth full of sand, that pours and pours til it surrounds you like land, And your body shrivels then from your outstretched hand is born a fruit that bears all you had planned so when another in need of clarity discovers your pittance of an island, they can take your plans from you and open their eyes and years to what your successor is trying to do. Then the cycle repeats till one after another the population of these released stand to war against the lies and deceit. Tied together by our isolation and ready to face a nation bound and determined to keep it that way using words like swords to cut the cords of nooses And borderlines to desegregate and wake up all those lost in the lies, to the truth, that most were tricked in their youth, into believing what their history book says is true without questioning and that it’s a chain reaction that goes back through the annals of religious and government practice. There’s no one left to blame for this sordid and twisted twisted game, started long ago by a name, lost in the first war over a belief that to this world there was nothing more than what one can hold. Searching for a precious gold and in the process of losing the gold worth saving, that being their soul. That is the sad and lonely truth that history will rarely teach, because acquisition and oppression is how they practice what they preach.
You can speak clearly
But if you do not think well
Your words will fall short
All words have power
Excessive use is not more
Just say what you must
When times were better
We did not see an end to
What now rests in ash
In this moment is
All that can ever be and
All that never will
While laying on a bed of steel, one must seriously question if life is real,
Or merely a thought from a twisted child, whose life’s enjoyment is the deforming of smiles,
Into garish forms of beauty’s past, amf life’s endless dreams are callously dashed
Across waves of grief and torment and spite, but still we look for that glimmer of light,
In the faces of friends and family stills, we grab what we can to reinforce our wills,
For the battle with the child is never won, but merely something to create a song,
That is the life we question in doubt, but live nonetheless to away the mount,
Of turmoil this child has heaped en mass, quantities of sorrow and so we cash
In our chips and lay them out for all to see and all to count
The value of one against the other, rather than just accepting your brother
Or sister who fights as much as you, but you don’t care for they are who
Left you alone when you were in need of help and all that you could see,
Was you were in pain so you closed your eyes to the need of them who also have tied
To win the war with the child undefeated, when with your help they just may have beat it,
Who laughs and consoles in glee, for you have become what it needed you to be,
And so the child was again and again, because you can’t figure out what it means to be friend
The warmth of the kitchen carried the delicious smells through the house
The chilled night air stifled the unwelcome scent that we carried,
Of turkey, and pasta, steamed carrots, green beans, cream corn and cranberry sauce.
If I had a choice, I wouldn’t choose it over anchovy and sardine gravy.
It’s a family dinner, most were there, except for a few cousins, who were out elsewhere
“We’re in this together, now it’s a family affair,” spoke by one in the darkness to any who would hear.
Soon, we all gathered at the table, and one after another, as usual, everyone started their own prayer
Our little congregation soon reached the backyard tree, in which sat two crows whose eyes shone like mirrors
This created an argument, since no three played the same, and each refused to acknowledge another god’s name.
Like two rulers or kings, it seemed they passed judgement on us with the beat of their wings
“Personally, I do not care if we agree on Allahu Akbar, in Jesus’ name, or by Yahweh we pray, cause it’s all just the same.”
As they flew down and away, so silent it seemed, that they now seemed like ghosts, if you know what I mean
At least that’s what I tried to say, before it got so loud I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
Now came the task at hand, having to dig a grave for this poor young man.
As tempers flared from anger and intolerance, so I started to make my way to the back door that leads outside.
With the task done we lowered him down, all the while spilling down fragrant oils over his body and our hands
I heard a crashing noise just as I crossed the threshold, and then everything went dark, and felt so cold
With a prayer to the universe, a matchbook was dropped, then a perfumed fire brought warmth to our lot
His mother screamed first, then the arguing stopped, my cousin was dead in a doorway, killed by a shard of a smashed bowl.
Then tears held by shock and emotions froze by need are released by the understanding of what has been wrought
It was an accident, on this we all agreed, he didn’t have many ties in life, so we decided to bury him by the backyard tree
And so, sad and distraught, we all still give thanks for the blessing he brought to the family
We collected his body and grabbed the needed tools, this whole ordeal, though, is really just too much for me.
For with his death, our divisions ceased, and now our bonds are stronger, it’s just messed up that his death accomplished that need.
Let the madness of humanity succumb to its own solutions
To the problem that is not yet understood as the tyranny of its own delusions