Mum, I miss you with all my heart.
Life isn’t fair,
Life took you, we had to part,
I look around and don’t see you through my eyes,
Now it’s just goodbyes.
Mum, why did
We have to say goodbye?
I don’t know.
What is my life now without your insight?
Inside, I begin to fight,
Mum I love you and it is true
Without you what will I do?
Tears drop to the ground,
You were the only mum I found.
The song of migrating geese spilled from the sky.
Upward they soared under moody December skies,
Flying in a great V as if symbiotically linked by
The vast natural forces that had shaped them over
Millennia, the way that natural law molds and
Forms rock, the geese and the stone in an inconceivable
Distant time elementally birthed in the heart of a savage
Star.
The physics of life pulses through them as through me,
And I felt an ancient shudder pierce my being, timeless,
As their unity joined and patterned an experience split
Open and reformed instantly in my coursing blood, and
Those air travelers prodded on by what mysterious,
Unknown instinct touched me, bound to earth, and I
Envied their freedom while all the while realizing that
Freedom is not in the strident whish of beating wings,
Contained rather in an unencumbered heart that
Instinctively knows both sky and earth, fire and water.
All experience is linked, as the lesson of the flying
Birds taught, and once the heart is set adrift from its
Moors, no compass is sufficient enough to guide it
Back to the original port, and in that epiphany, I
Dreamed, like the geese, of flying to you.
—
Ralph Monday has had over 200 poems published in literary journals and online literary sites. A chapbook, All American Girls and Other Poems was recently published, and a book Lost Houses and American Renditions is forthcoming from Hen House Press.
How come when I awake I see this world through two-toned eyes; one see’s the good in this world, the other see’s the worst; out come fading away what good there is.
How come when I blink my eyes it goes from dark to light, seeming as if it we’re being viewed from two-toned eyes seeing the people I know as good people out of one, the other as evil people out to make my life worse.
Or when I cry I see the world so blue but when I smile I see the world so bright, red as if I noticed the truth of happiness, sadness as if seen through two-toned eyes.
It’s like when I wanna give up I see the world so grey, cold, but when I want to keep going for others, myself, ’cause they give me the strength I see the world yellow as if looking through two-toned eyes.
Or the times when it gets better the world looks so green, I smile with joy then times get worse, I fall to my knees, cry again seeing a darker shade of black at this world image as if seen through two-toned eyes.
When I also just don’t know what to see, I’m scared I see this world out of one eye blue, the other black though when I have hope, I’m not scared I see this world blue, red as if seen through two-toned eyes.
I truly see this world through two-toned eyes, sometimes red/blue, blue/red or yellow– red or blue or all black or all white or just yellow with white or black ’cause I see this world through two-toned eyes.
More at http://lrueryuzaki.deviantart.com/journal/sollux-homestuck-related-433494239.
i one time ponder why i cant stand on my own two legs all the time i often contemplate why my knee’s are so weak that i speak these words for all to be heard.
i look down at my weak knee’s , i say why are you so weak when i have all this power , strength to keep from falling on you my knee’s.
i hear them say its cause you drag us , pull us thru your life walking on us unaware of the blood you trail , leave behind you we are blood soaked knee’s.
i ask them why do you not stand , drip less blood they reply because we cant stand if you don’t walk i reply but walking thru life is the hardest part.
they tell me we are blood soaked knee’s to stop the blood you must stand tall , carry yourself better , be strong for everyone not just you.
i then reply why must i stand if i cant even walk or even find the courage to speak , talk my words of my own mind .
they reply if you don’t stand you cant turn around , see everyone the blood trails of us blood soaked knee’s we cover them in our blood you must turn around , see the blood so you can stand tall , stop the blood.
i reply i don’t know how to stand they then proceed to tell me grab the hands of those we blood soaked knee’s have behind you soaked in our blood , they well help you stand .
i reply but what if my mind body , heart are weaker then me , wanna drop to tho blood soaked knee’s they reply those people behind , in front of you well strengthen those parts of yourself so you can see them , hear them , have the strength to grab there hands , stand tall.
they then reply that’s how you stand tall just don’t try to do it alone i smile some one what , slowly see my friends lovers , family behind me , reach out my long reaching arms to grasp there’s , pull me up , then i know i’m not walking on bloody knee’s but healing knee’s
More at http://lrueryuzaki.deviantart.com/journal/blood-fellows-behind-me-from-my-knees-L-459678072.
An artist was murdered together with her lawyer
bargaining for more to sell property. The haves and the have nots, who wanted to be haves, met the bodies were found
when the garbage man spotted a leg. A mere leg jutting across flesh
and bones, life and death. Three are being questioned, or four
including the one who discovered the jutting leg sticking gelatinously out of a bag or box.
This is what he gets for his discovery?
I am not too well, he felt.
The flames chased him in charred landscape.
Fighting over, he pondered about the
crime within, the surge to find a nest hole.
A wounded pride where the salmonella hits.
You enter a slot for more enticements.
Any patch of vague tragedy among the barren
desirability, shares the accident with sacrifice.
Unhappy, you reverse the mode of retrieving
against the terms of swimming alone.
Where was the death’s arc to capture
the mistakes of life? Was an archaism
sufficient to kill the untruth? No implant
will enhance the height of achievement.
More at http://www.anmolbol.com/poems.
The day is at once at tandem
with tepid sun, winter’s discomfiture, or feature.
Outside the room music
blares, Christmas is near
children squabble, then singing. Sighs, life takes
historical movement, years
lapse and then these visuals.
The town hasn’t changed much except for the number of boisterous cars, and pedestrians manipulating ways, hands up to code a message, please let me go to the other side. The trees silently stare at the church across, shadowy, languid movements. It is dusk.
Hands up. Let me go over to the other side, where I live, where I can breathe.