Tag: Life

Office Politics, Poetry by Luke Wilson Lucas

Genre: Life, Work

Office Politics by Luke Wilson Lucas

Luz let me listen to her son’s message,
A brief statement of his arrival: “Mami, soy yo…”
The rest lost in a gargle of argot and elisions,
And her eyes crinkled with delight at my puzzlement—
To my ear it could have been Cantonese.

This during a time, between her fourth and her fifth husband,
When I read out loud to her, some of Garcia Marquez,
When she would patiently correct my pronunciation,
Telling me the meaning of certain words,
Digressing at times to personal associations…

Like when she and one other girl stole into the convent garment room,
Rummaged among the clothing, first swathing their torsos,
In long, running girdles, then donning the tunics, scapulars, coifs…
And looking at themselves in a swivel mirror,
Hugging each other with mocking astonishment,
Before sliding out of the habits to slip away undiscovered.

Luz was at the convent school to age 14,
Stolen from her mother,
As Luz told my wife,
Old maid aunts disapproved of her mother,
And after her father died of political wounds,
They took her,

Just as after Luz’s first divorce,
With the irony, the rhyme of history,
Her Colombian husband took her two babes,
Though in their twenties, they returned to her,
Carlos the message maker first, and then Matilda,

On her first day with her mother, Matilda sat in my office,
Waiting, crying, while I read from “Cien Anos de Soledad.”
Although I saw her from time to time,
Matilda never sat in my office again.

The winter when I read to Luz,
The light would be gone by the end of the day.
Sometimes I would accompany her to her car,
Sometimes I would hold her arm as we traversed the icy walk,
Lightly, to hold her up, just for balance, providing support,
But not too much.
LWL/January 4 2010

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War In Between The Two, Poetry by Demarco Singleton

Genre: Love, Romantic, Life, Rhyme
War In Between The Two by Demarco Singleton
 
Stuck in between the two and having no clue what to do. 
You ask yourself, is it worth it? Is it worth breaking a heart that has such great purpose? 
Yet you find the distraction growing even greater but you feel you should tend to that later, 
but in reality you have to take action now. 
You have to break down, crazy as it may sound but it’s the truth. 
Listen to your heart and mind and analyze what you need to do. Yes it may be hard but now 
the outcome is up to you. 
Sit down and think.  
You’ve created something great and something that you potentially hate has come into your 
life and has filled your mind with things that are way beyond your trait. 
So your mind begins to race and your heart beats in an inconsistent pace that’s when you’ve 
grown to have doubts, now your mind and heart is in an unwanted place.  
Take a deep breath and balance out the situation. 
You realize lust has started a war and you’ve been exposed with no ammo. You know you 
have to fight back, so you suit up your love with some camos.  
A day without your love is a day without air, lust is such a competitor but there’s no way it can 
compare. 
With that realization, love defeats lust with no problem. If you can strengthen your love then 
problems, you’ll never have them. 
Grow in your love and fight for what it’s worth, cause lust is an obstacle but with love it has 
no birth. 

 

 

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The world is a stage, Poetry by Kila Price

Genre: Life

The world is a stage by Kila Price

The world is a stage
And we, the performers.
Acting out our lives for unknown powers. Presenting ourselves to beings of wonder.
As the lights shine on us, we find ourselves in states of splendor.
But the stage is small.
And the performers grow. But one would think to continue the show
for the dark and unknown.
A show that could win an award if working together, divides and elongates for the desire for stardom.
We break our bonds of friendship, no longer united, shed blood, sparing one another still undecided. And we sprawl. We sprawl. To be applauded. Little do we know its what the unknown always wanted.

 

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YEARNING, Poetry by Kapil Joshi

GENRE: DESPAIR, LOVE, LIFE, LONGING,PAINFUL, RELATIONSHIPS

YEARNING by Kapil Joshi

a long cherished dream

perceived,protected

through

fallacies of perception…

protected,perceived

by

the walls

raised

through

the fallacies

of

a dumb mind….

an enemy

and

a friend

at

the same time

embracing

the light

of

longing

of

an emblazoned heart

now empty

now full

of

love…

just

another

long cherished dream

 

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OH BEAUTY, BEAUTY, Poetry by Caitlin Dwight

Genre: Death, Life

OH BEAUTY, BEAUTY by Caitlin Dwight

Oh, Beauty, Beauty
Oh, before me you stand, unchained.
Oh, how I have come to adore your towers.
Oh, won’t you tell me, how many lives you have claimed?
How many veins have watered your flowers?
How many spirits have you nursed?
How many boys have fertilized your soil?
How many limbs have fallen victim to your thirst?
How many sons have you declined to assoil?

Oh, Beauty, Beauty
Oh, before me you stand, untamed.
Oh, how I have come to adore your breath.
Oh, won’t you tell me, how many lives you have claimed?
How many vessels have you gifted with your theft?
How many phantoms have you betrayed in their slumber?
How many girls have you gathered in sheaves?
How many lungs have you devoured in your hunger?
How many daughters have you had dancing with the leaves?

Oh, Beauty, Beauty
Oh, you make me wonder

Oh, Beauty, Beauty
Oh, will you ever sunder
Oh, me and my weaker breath
Oh, for your sweeter death?

Oh, Beauty, Beauty
Oh, how I have come to adore your sound and melody.
Written by Caitlin Dwight

Oh, Beauty, Beauty
Oh, before me you stand, unrestrained.
Oh, how I have come to adore your waves.
Oh, won’t tell me, how many lives you have claimed?
How many shells have you granted deep graves?
How many souls hide between your stones?
How many men give your plants ground to grow?
How many bones give your creatures homes?
How many fathers are you hiding down below?

Oh, Beauty, Beauty
Oh, before me you stand, inflamed.
Oh, how I have come to adore your light.
Oh, won’t tell me, how many lives you have claimed?
How many hulls have you swallowed in their plight?
How many ghosts have you dressed in your attire?
How many women have you broken with your prongs?
How many hearts have you sacrificed to your desire?
How many mothers are singing your songs?

Oh, Beauty, Beauty
Oh, you make me fear

Oh, Beauty, Beauty
Oh, am I in the clear
Oh, or am I ever required
Oh, to join your deadly choir?

Oh, Beauty, Beauty
Oh, how I have come to adore your sight and harmony

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Curiosity, Get Lost With Me, Poetry by Lizzie Heart

Genre: Rhyme, Life

Curiosity, Get Lost With Me by Lizzie Heart   

I have often wondered
about the birth of a lie.
The first historical untruth,
bearing the uncouth.

As it’s identity was told,
our ability to coincide was sold.
BUT,
what if we differently choose;
True or false never composed.

Contrast how we’re aware that a lie can existing anywhere;
Keying the ignition
of Paranoid suspicions.

Lies eradicated
and history re-rooted,
present day would contain
relations seemingly strange.

Altered existence
could challenge the persistence
tied to Truth’s scavenger hunt;
through the words that we say
and the events of the day.

I am impressed
by humanity’s depths;
with lies that possess and
spawn the obsessed.
A pattern seriously strong
with sincerity nearly gone.

Intriguing thought,
to have omittance and fabrication never taught.
Preventing, you know, one of those fights
that last straight into the night;
with frustrations strained
as resistance is so tactfully maintained.

Could it be,
trust would ease,
doubt decrease,
if society agrees
to murder deceptions
and allow civilization’s animations.

Only underwear and socks will be everywhere
and cause tempers to flair.
sounds good to me,
let’s start living life fair!

~
Lizzie Heart

 

 

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Emerald Heart, Poetry by Barbara Hunt

Genre: Dark, Life changing, Loss, and Romance

Emerald Heart by Barbara Hunt

Basking in the strength of your stare
Two stones with intelligence and loyalty take away the air
Always there to help and challenge hard as steel filling with despair unyielding to the truth
Sitting in the silence with nothing needing to be said once comfortable and loving now distant and hard
A shell so deep and unbreakable nothing would be the same not after all trust was lost
A glimmer of hope could be seen as she tried clinging to loyalty but in the blink of an eye it all vanished as the black hole of mistrust tore everything apart
The only thing to be seen was a beautiful shade of green with memories past flooding through as a whisper was heard in the darkness

 

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A Black Women’ Plea, Poetry by Latonia Sears

Genre: Life, Society

A Black Women’ Plea 
 by Latonia Sears
 
 
I am so tired of all the death an destruction 
the collection of lifeless bodies is reaking 
and has left an odor 
 
The smell of injustice is fowl  
and is leaving a strong scent in the air 
the disgusting fragrance of death 
 
While all of the victims families 
watch all of these black men 
taken down and laid to rest 
 
No politician or public servant  
had the forsght to shed a tear 
it only hit home for them  
 
when some of their comrades 
were taken away from here 
even then they still won’t stop this and quit 
 
To serve and protect or protect and serve 
either way it always turns to death in the end 
like they hate us and are not interested in making a mends 
 
They are taking lives at an enormous rate 
most of the time it is out right murder 
fueled by racially motivated hate 
 
The life of a black man has no worth to these servants 
not the lives they have taken or the families 
they caused so much sorrow 
 
Knowing their husbands, fathers and brothers 
won’t be here tomorrow although throughout 
time we have continued to survive 
 
Even for all this time  
while we have been continuously 
been persecuted and shoved asside 
 
 
We will stand up and say enough is enough 
and we are not taking it anymore 
remembering to show unity as we walk through that door 
 
Black has always had black power  
not power over black 
wev’e already won that fight 
 
We are Americans who demand justice 
because we are a part of this country 
our contributions are endless 
 
 
 
We have fattened the pockets of many 
some wrong, some right 
some who are not afraid to stand up for what’s right 
 
If Martin were here what would he do? 
What about Malcolm or Mandella  
what would they say and do? 
 
It has become a national crisis 
none of us are safe  
from these men in blue 
 
“By The People” “For The People” 
are these the same people  
as me and you 
 
 
 
 

 

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The Darkest Hour, Poetry by Aline Gardine

And I’m alone in darkest hour, Between the icy branches searching moon. Somebody painted skies in grim black color, I can’t promise that I’ll back soon. Doc Plague laughed in winter silence, And opened fastly his white beak,

Genre: Dark, Life

 

 

The Darkest Hour by Aline Gardine

And I’m alone in darkest hour, Between the icy branches searching moon. Somebody painted skies in grim black color, I can’t promise that I’ll back soon. Doc Plague laughed in winter silence, And opened fastly his white beak, He’s gathering again his magic powers So, stellar lights became too pale and weak. He flew and touched the roof of old gray shelters, He wanted find a helper in the night. And soon he met sinister jesters, Invited one of them to go and steal the light. And villains after erecting a ladder, Reached easily the kingdom of the sky. They stole the moon, decided that it’s better Then just to listen to her endless wailful cry. All stars they covered with black paint And laughed again, descended to the earth. Light disappeared and there was no a saint Just darkness from the south to north. And I’m alone in darkest hour, Between the icy branches searching moon. Somebody painted skies in grim black color, Nobody can’t promise the light’ll back soon.

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DEPRESSION 101, Poetry by Lydia Lockett

It’s hard to cope as a victim of crimes
Now my anger’s and pain is so intertwined
I’m thoroughly pissed….
And I’m not easy to assist
‘Cause I don’t trust those motha’ fuckin’ therapists

Genre: Rhyme, Life, Depression

DEPRESSION 101 by Lydia Lockett

I owe my psychiatrist $1500
I fell asleep on his couch

It’s hard to cope as a victim of crimes
Now my anger’s and pain is so intertwined
I’m thoroughly pissed….
And I’m not easy to assist
‘Cause I don’t trust those motha’ fuckin’ therapists

I don’t want to waste time in sessions
Making them laugh ease to their depression
‘Cause that’s what how I’m made…
I perform and they get paid

While I don’t have the bus fare
To get there
And I walk to the clinic
And I wait till the others are finished

And the clinician
He’s no magician
He’s a dealer of prescriptions

The agony still plagues my mind
Only this time
I got his bullshit added to the line
Of never-ending torments

Like those who commit suicide
Or deal with oppression and genocide
And hunger and corruption
And this motha’-fucka’ don’t recognize
That people are suffering in front of his eyes
But he don’t care
He’s self-satisfied

What he prescribes
May keep us alive
But he don’t realize
We need to be happy and free
However he don’t agree

On his wall, he’s got a doctor’s degree
In society, he’s got respect in the community
But in reality,
He’s got hookers paid by some drug companies
While his therapy lacks validity
And we’ve got nothing to eat
And go 3 weeks with 6 bags of tea

We’ve got a functional disability
We’re not in the norm
He’s the only one who will fill out the fuckin’ forms
We start to wish we were never born

He’s perceptive, he asks;
“Why do you look so forlorn?
What’s bothering you the most?”
I look him straight in the eyes and say;
“Refer to your notes”

The Prozac obliterates your libido
So sex is no longer on your mind
You don’t fix yourself up
You don’t take the time

And when you see a love scene on T-V
You think, “People are still into that?
It’s so passé!”
And then you re-member how horny you used to be
Just yesterday.

You start to think about procreation
And how the hell are you gonna fit into that equation?

And then you find out that someone you know just did it
He didn’t write a note to make it official
He just put the gun to his temple
He kept it simple

Charlatan doctors
Made money off his pain
Backed by the government
This happens again and again

Suffering to pay their bills is not our worth
That is not why we were put on this earth.
Sometime, somebody’s got to put your interests first

Are we just unlucky?
Or have we been cursed?
And no one understands or gives a damn
How much it hurts

I should never have walked into his office
I should have quit when I was ahead
This brings me to the conclusion
That many people think
They are better off dead.”

I talk about depression
Attack the repression
Illustrate the mind set
Redirect the thunder

So if you find out, one day, G-d forbid
That somebody you know just killed them self
You may not have to wonder!

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