I remember when I was a kid and I used to dream of being a cop
Being in the force stopping the bad guys that rob
Solving all of the problems around the world
But then I got older and I saw a cop shoot a man down in cold blood
He later got on the stand said he was scared
I wasn’t there
But I’m sure when he seen you and that gun paired
That He was the only one scared
It’s sounds crazy hearing a killer saying he was scared
Like they were the one on the other side of the gun
I see situations like this come up all the time
Most officers walk free without getting time
It’s like they just didn’t commit one of the biggest crimes
The worst part is that this is normal to me now
But to some it’s like seeing a unicorn
What you see when you see that uniform
You see a hero
I see someone who likes to abuse their power
Just a bunch of cowards
I can get shot right now and their life will still mean more
Because of that badge on their shirt
It’s always been this way people just cover their eyes while we get hurt
It’s a real life birdbox
If you seen a cop jacking me up because I was walking will you actually help
Or will I just be another victim on the news
Judged because of a crime from years ago
Or because how my hair looked or how my pants were so low
Or judged off height
I used to be scared of the dark but now the police is the only ones that cause my
fright
Scared of getting killed and the reporter justify it because of how I looked
Even if indicted they only get a couple of years
While my sentence wouldn’t let me see another day
I can’t believe that use to be my aspiration
Category: 2019 Poetry
Read Poem: TWO WAY, by Maria Juliet
I love the humbleness but I draw the line of boundary.
The darkness completely folded;
He does not know there was a limit inside the box.
I love the sincerity but I let some words often missing.
Outside the window, the music is too loud.
He does not know, only the shadow can bring the numbness.
I love the smile but I give back blank stares —- mostly.
Inside the room full of gold mixed of copy.
He does not know eyes are the genuine smile…
I love sacrifice but I am too poor to buy time.
Back at the car, the dogs fighting for one raw bone
while in four meters away the stray cat enjoying his food alone.
He does not know, inside the grocery store few are only worth it for pancake dream.
I, love being alone.
Beyond the horizon,
Walking, dreaming, screaming, reaching and receiving ——– these.
He doesn’t need to know…
Read Poem: Life and Times of my Cigarettes Death, by Samantha Broesky
If only you knew
the laps it took,
To find my way out,
of labyrinths in my head.
I was trapped in days so
dark,
attempting ways to escape,
want to get back,
be safe, in my minds maze.
Lost in countless ways,
How many times?
Times after time.
Do you know?
Just how many times,
I have died
while still alive?
It’s not easy, having this,
beautiful mind.
To see the beauty,
in deranged miracles,
They luminate through my
eyes.
To be able to outsmart my
Devil,
Beat me at my own game,
Now I wear this damned
crown,
Watching myself,
I go down on my knees
Singing my own praises,
Loving myself,
embracing my wicked ways.
Backwards I lit my first
cigarette.
Filter for my silent mouth,
Watch how it ignites
Spewing toxic, blue flames,
Straight out of hell.
Still I inhale.
Ill be the first to admit,
I’ve done some pretty
fucked up shit.
All that time wasted.
Incarserated. Intoxixated.
Drugged out. Seduced.
Body Bloody, Bruised and
Broken.
Over and over….
praying for a day it, or I
would end.
Still canʼt recall all the
nights, turned to days,
to weeks, no sleep on
repeat….. Stealing and
Dealing.
Forget to keep dreaming.
Here I am,
still inhailing that cigarette.
My only regret,
Was falling in love,
With the right man.
Only thing left.
Date.Year.
Numbers finalizing,
Timing his breath.
Ashes everywhere.
The only truth in love.
My cigarettes death.
Radio playing.
Times timeless hitlist.
If I could turn back,
My all-time regret,
Was in a moment,
No sooner, or later,
no matter where, I asked
why me? What happened,
Or didn’t, after I met you.
In a restricted hall,
Trying hard to be late,
The clock kept telling me,
I blame it for believing it’s
lies.
I was blind, from not hearing,
The warning from time,
in how we both become,
prisoners starting at walls.
Counting every damn day,
Every impossible way,
Lists on lists,
regret turns to regret,
Wishing for words to pray,
I can’t say, make me forget.
No, I never, I won’t, I don’t
even smoke,
The look you gave me, while
giving to you.
In you, I gave, my first
regret,
that led to you…. Lighting
me up, that last cigarette.
Now the last thing, my only
thing left,
Iʼm smoking alone, not
hearing you say my name.
I’ll never regret, how you
had… that crave,
because of me.
You get a spark off a dead
lighter,
trick is, put two dead ones
together.
Sex, death, celebration,
stress.
Always you’ll see me
smoking.
I need you, not ashes,
you need a cigarette.
Read Poem: NIBBLES, by Sebastian Hales
Come down to the bridge at midnight, when the tide is full and the lights of Waikawa shatter the water into crystal shards and the only sounds are the swishing and slapping of ripples against the wooden piles of the bridge and the deep black murmuring of the distant sea hidden behind the sleeping covens of sand dunes.
Stand naked on the pebbled bank, sensing but not seeing the whiteness of your body exposed to a thousand pointing fingers, the ghosts of the trees and the sharp menace of the gentle breeze.
Slip tentatively down the slope into the caressing night clothes of the water’s comfort.
The lights of the shore are a painted backdrop left behind from another play.
Below the rippled blanket all is dark.
Only your head lifting from its twinkling pillow.
Only your wet hair like seaweed on your face.
Only your feet, braced against the water’s sway.
Then you feel,
nibbling your shoulders and back,
nibbling neck and arms,
nibbling breast and buttock,
nibbling away the bridge,
the lights,
the coldness of the air,
the worries of the day,
the now and then,
the struggles and despair,
the nibbling,
nibbling massage
of shoals of tiny
fishes.
Read Poem: Where the Tears Go, by J Hirtle
Ten thousand days
Bounteous moments forever faded
Since he first enlightened this lyricist
Guiding my vestal quill.
Through undiscovered lands
With the poise of Gandalf
Proffering measured response to arouse one more query.
The old man stands bent at the waist
The autumn of his life declared by the deep lines upon his face.
His hands unable to conceal a never-ending tremble.
To my youth-filled gaze, he has always seemed ancient
Silver hair with amber tips
Bespectacled eyes behind thick glass
A wooden cane forever choked by his knotted grip.
The morning sun greets our kinship
As I guide him to our old park bench
Quietly we share the new dawn.
I speak first
As oft I do,
Nay, as I always have
I pose my question,
“Where do the tears go when they depart my eyes?”
I undertake more-
“Overpowered by emotions
I cannot disguise
The liquid crystal falls
Trampling shadow trails
Beneath my eyes
So, tell me dear sir,
Where do tears go when they depart my eyes?”
Without a word, his gaze tells all
A glimpse of sadness breaking upon his face
For he knows the reason of my query-
The Healer’s words promised no hope
The cancerous centaur
Mocking their toxic elixir
Spreads venomous tentacles throughout my body
Tendering deadly kisses.
It seems my time here, is nearing the end.
My old friend speaks his reply with an ancient whisper
His slithering smile slowly revealed
He speaks as a teacher
A prophet
A friend
“A Cimmerian Shadow
Impossible to flee
Belongs to the Darkness we dare not see.
Listen closely faithful child-
Your wandering tears are not forsaken
For you my young friend
Cradled in Faith-
A promise of Truth
A vow of Hope
Older than time
Born on the Eve of the Beginning
Destined to awaken.
You have nothing to fear
Soon you will stand in a place prepared for you
There you will see His glorious truth-
Tears never die or fade away
They turn to mist
To be used another day”
“A fathomable grace-
He commands every tear that dares to fall
Stretching out His hand
He gently wipes them all.
Forever erasing our sorrow”.
“That my young friend
Is where the tears go”
Read Poem: Creamy Sky, by Elaine Alibrandi
warm
for winter,
like the
November
I was
sent to
that place—
hermetically
sealed—
bad food—
shrinks
that never
listened.
The staff
openly
watched us
and took
notes while
the TV
blared.
After about
five days,
it seemed
almost
normal.
One patient
had stayed
there seventeen
times,
Another
always had
my back,
The gentle
ex-Marine
with bandages
on his wrists
understood why,
The large,
bedraggled
grandmother
pressed my
face to her
breasts as she
cried.
The
bewildered—
the
irretrievable—
too
vulnerable
for shame.
It felt
a crime
to finally
exit
through
those doors—
always
locked,
forbidding
approach.
After a
week of
breathing
stagnant
air, I rode
shotgun
in the car
toward
a home
no longer
mine,
letting
the wind
toss my
hair.
The
hospital
band still
encircled
my wrist—
the name
on it had
disappeared.
With
scissors
I’d stolen
from the
place,
I cut
it off,
held it
tightly
outside the
window,
and,
hesitating,
trying to
decide,
released
my grip
and let
it fly.
Read Poem: Before It’s Too Late, by John T Leonard
Would any good come of it if I wasn’t here?
If fate has its way, my end could be near.
In this moment of confusion it’s so hard to make sense,
I can’t fathom out what is future or past tense.
The mistakes of the past are vivid in my mind,
I am so lost right now I may as well be blind.
Who would benefit if tomorrow I was gone?
Would anyone rejoice if I had seen my last dawn?
I know there will be those who would weep for a while,
My little girl would now walk herself down the aisle.
No father son camp for my young lad and me,
Next to his uncle round the camp fire he’d be.
I’d miss out on so many things I could’ve looked forward to,
Lost forever in a moment of despair, when this seems the right thing to do.
Aside from the fact of everything I’d now miss,
How selfish am I to put those I love through all this.
What if my thinking is incredibly wrong,
I must know before something irreversible is done.
I’m not going to allow my final curtain to come down or the fat lady to sing,
Having thought about it, no good will it achieve, let’s see what tomorrow will bring….
and
The Darkest Cloud
Dark clouds are forming overhead, a black dog is scratching at my door.
“You’ll get over it” they say, I’m not sure I can take much more.
At every turn is a new challenge,
So much chipping away at me, causing fresh damage.
Friends ask you to promise them that you’re ok.
To appease them, it’s just words you feel you must say.
Guilt is only one of the emotions that you feel,
Remorse, regret, anger, even stupidity, feels irrational yet seems all too real.
You feel so upset your voice can’t even form words.
Others look upon you as if you’re being absurd.
But no one can tell you how you should be.
They’ve not been you, they don’t know what you’ve seen.
So go on and suffer in your own time,
And just have faith that in the long run you’ll be just fine.
Read Poem: SEMANTICS, by Mary Lynn Archibald
I think of you as porcelain, he says—
All elegant and white.
Oh yes, I see, she says—
Brittle, cold and tight.
He sees her as a wonder of survival,
Precious, dear.
She sees herself as isolate,
And him, too near.
Although they’ve fooled around, it seems
They’ve yet to really touch.
I love you, she says, rhetorically—
And he says nothing much.
—Mary Lynn Archibald ©2019
Read Poem: Censorship, by Sahar Ajdamsani
This woman wants her right
She has silenced her shout
But not one can silence those eyes
The depth of what she sees
She screams her pain in musical notes
Standing powerful
Strong and true
Do not censorship her
Her dreams, her thoughts, her voice
Her mighty wings, her heart, her choice
In dreams she flies
High over all
All that drags her down
Landing now atop the mountain
The peak of all she is
Do not ignore
Woman, her right, her goals
Read Poem: DARK LOVE ODE, by Kat Lehmkuhl
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