Long-game

Fingers rest on another set of keys hours away,
Younger years and different way here,
Bright overdrive gentle handle with all care,
Struggle fault and two inches above water,
Nothing needs to actually be fair,
Exchange of selfless gestures,
A way around such conventions.
Refusing to ask or answer why,
Some hooks fuse in the mouths they lay.

Only long along an act, not person thing or being about.
To long to have my own self recognised exposed and tender
Giving what she knows she never possessed,
Making me enough by allowing herself to risk,
Throwing all in our skin to this game,
Risk but earned by all we went through,
So often we yelled projection & undermine,
Yet a reflection of all we yearn and hold
Sacred inside locked up away is apt.
What a frame to bound this wayward boy.

She sits on top
And pulls my string
Harsh she is not
Yet important it seems
To hold back the repeat
Of haunting she carries
Background security playing all night
Still excited yet distant
Better now be her shots.

Hope

People are different all the time and I hope you are better than most of them

Love them

Massage them

Pamper them

Calm them

They are not satisfied and they treat you as footmat

Understanding people is a difficult game to master and since I will never meet you

Even though I like you

I can only do one thing: Hope

 

20~21

I’d love to make love

By the light

Of my Christmas lamp

 

In my grandmother’s old bed

Passed to me

Through generations

 

My hardly soft fouton

Under ages of comforters

Covered with cats

 

In the crisp cool of the night

My nakedness

Is warmed by yours

 

Loving arms around me

As I drift off to sleep

By the light of your smile

9:00 p.m The sudden enrolling at the army

The first fallen snow paved the way to untypical sameness,

to her house, one visible spot in the darkness,

he payed a visit and asked for permission to drop in often

(his absence was caused by a flu not soften).

From time to time she got attached to his hallo,

rotating around her just after saying “hello”.

From time to time she learnt to be happy and to call mum “mummy”,

suddenly one day he was enrolled at the army.

 

H23: Gubbles

The hippo snugged beside me snores,

And blows billowy bubbles I’ve learned to ignore.

Big blasted pink ones that pop when she snuffles,

That gum up the linens and goo up the ruffles.

And once, even gobbed up the ceiling fan blades,

With bubble gum gobbled in gum bubble shades.

But mostly, the troubles are easy as clover–

Except when she sneezes her bubbles all over!

Constellations

Lights turn off
Lights remain
Twinkling red
Blue
Green
Eyes ricochet
Across the space
From light to light
Trying to draw constellations
In the dark
Maybe this will guide us home

Prompt 23

I imagine monsters
in human form
coming from my head
but I yell them away, and they run
I chase but they keep looking back
they are ready for me to be afraid
like I was the first time
I won’t allow it
they are a part of me
I will keep chasing them away
because if I don’t they will
take over my thoughts

Like a Butterfly A Feather Is A

Like a butterfly which I know is a soul of departed
That visits every time one misses her presence
A feather so delicate is a soul just the same
Out of nowhere it floats, when you call out her name
As the feather floats and reaches me slow
My tears I can’t bear I can’t bear them to flow
For I long to hold you my child in my arms
How I long to feel you I just wish you’re around
Child since you left you left oh so soon
I smile with every butterfly I see roam
Or a feather that floats and glides gracefully
It is a visit from you I believe completely

3. Police Shootings

Police Shootings inspired by Bop Poetry

The sirens don’t always go off when the camera captures the act.

If we are lucky we get to see what happened on the news.

Not from a police dashcam but from an innocent bystander who happenstance captures it on record.

The pain becomes real all over again.

Why is it that society is first to judge the victim’s history without realizing that an injustice has been enacted?

What can we do to bring peace to our streets before we can wish peace on earth?

 

So here is the deal, if I knowingly or unknowingly use counterfeit money at a store is my punishment death?

Can I travel to and from the outskirts of town on foot without being followed or assaulted?

Can I sleep in my bed and wonder if I will wake up alive?

Am I wrong to wear a ski mask in the middle of summer without being judged unfairly drugged and killed?

Imagine if i did not speak English and tried still to defend myself would I be treated just unfairly?

Would my fate be any worse if I were male or female because unfortunately, my one determining factor is race.

Even though you can’t even determine my ethnicity unless I revealed it to you. If you judged me by skin color you would be wrong.

How can we stop the brutality when we know that inequality is only a part of pain that has not been healed?

 

The solution is not as easy as it is to discriminate based on race.

Yes the police are potentially put in harm’s way every day on the job so that makes it even more crucial that we close the gap.

We are not asking that the police go rogue on everyone or to balance the brutality among the people regardless of race.

We need to reallocate the funds.It’s time to restructure an organization we the people gave the power to serve and protect.

This has gone on far too long and we expect the enforces to change a system we as society help perpetuate.

We did not scream loud enough that we were being killed,and as we were dying the inequality created a larger crevice on both sides.’

This is a perfect example of when you see a wrong being committed you can’t be strong and continue to take the abuse.

How can we stop the brutality when we know that inequality is only a part of pain that has not been healed?

 

Inspired by the words of Zora Neale Hurston…”If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.”

 

 

One Sound Unites Us

One Sound Unites Us

Knots of families stroll on sugar sand

Snatches of their conversations float after

Spanish, French, Portuguese and Chinese.

 

But one sound is universal

The squeal of children in the surf

Laughing children will unites us.

Bette Low  2020