Broken
“You can’t kill someone who is death already”This is you; emotionally death and mute inside out! Only your soul carries the pain inside! Wondering how you still standing when there isn’t nothing left of you to give. Your own flesh and blood drain you. Your eyes show me your pain and scream for someone to seek for your soul and save you. It takes a brave one to enter your hellhole; I did it once and I don’t know how I survive my 7yrs next to your whole life of abandons and sinfulness the pull your innocent from under your growing years. Your biggest prison it’s your mind! Wake up and see the beautiful life you created; is not to late to give your love and nature with a drop of your blood. I tell you a secrete she no longer retains your soul. Smile life begins again as long as you see that true and forgive yourself. Surround yourself with true love within your soul and our lovely creation. She is the devil! Your flesh and blood; but I’m worse then Gabriel ! I set you free! Fly our creation waits for your faithful attention. Earth and heaven shield you. Only their soul matter Bc it carries you in their white cells. Open your eyes and set ur mind free! I speak to you from an upper level. I’m a Gitana; I’m not contain and my freedom it’s invariable
—Marquez
Alzheimer’s
Critical call, result of the fall.
Plead in a panic, mood turning manic.
Hyper extreme, surreal like a dream.
Confusion ensues, planning next moves.
No time to wait, pack, leaving at 8.
Traveling monkey, no sleep like a junkie.
South to Midwest, hole in my chest.
Rain, hail, snow, faster then slow.
22 hours, no sleeping no showers.
Honda’s a beast, nonstop from the east.
Arrived in the Chi, critical but alive.
Deep breath, calm, anything for my mom.
Sleep
Sleep on a silver-lined cloud.
I relax against John’s back.
Fall asleep facing that way. After I fall asleep, we can move.
Staying awake from snoring is possible.
Bandit climbs his stairs to my cloud. He noses his way under the covers and presses into my lower back.
Growling and barking if anyone moves to disturb his sleep.
Breathing yoga breaths, falling into my cocoon of floating clouds, I dream and still renewing and nourishing my mind before waking early.
Poem 22: Love Poem to EB
I know you don’t know I exist,
and if you did, you wouldn’t want
me around, there being nothing new
I could teach you about Florida.
Hell, you camped for days in the
Ten Thousand Islands, and took
too many pills on Fort Myers Beach,
meaning to die there, if Sha hadn’t
found you. So forgive me, Elizabeth
Bishop, for stealing your lines when I
need a great finish, like rainbow, rainbow,
rainbow, or somebody loves us all.
You help me, daily, even when I’m not
writing poetry, obsessively. You help me
practice, losing farther, losing faster, as
we are all losing the time we crave, to finish
what we started. I love you, EB. Rest in peace.
Untitled
drifting off to a dream like state
somewhere between sleeping
and being awake
drifting off
images cross my mind
and I can no longer tell
what is real and what is fake
By: KMH 2015
The Imaginarium
Once I’ve finished my normal waking day,
It’s time for it to give way
To something far more spectacular –
As they would say in the vernacular:
It’s time to get down to business –
There are plots to be finished
And dreamscapes to revisit,
New adventures on the astral plane
A choice from the menu –
Lucid or unconscious?
Preparing the venue
For absolute calmness
So I can be sure to harness
Every spark of magic
My day-life –
Just a mere shadow
Of the existence
I’ve created with persistence
At the Imaginarium –
An entire universe of my own creation,
Where I can take delight in every temptation,
Discover new pleasures without cessation,
See a new world through tight closed eyes
Renewing my citizenship at every surprise
And I never want to leave…
Sometimes I even try to weave
The normal waking world in with my dreams,
But I’m always woken by defeat
Once again exported
From my dreams
And I emerge thwarted
By a disease
The call reality –
Always a travesty.
(c) Gemma Hinton 14/6/15
Mine (24)
My poem wears a warm cloak of anonymity.
It has green eyes and red hair.
It eats like an omnivore evolved from
the T-Rex and the Brontosaurus.
It dreams about children and schedules and love and violence.
It drives a modest car.
It lives in 1000 square feet where there is
too much art and not enough walls.
On weekends it likes to stay up to watch
the sunrise and then nap until noon.
It fears for the future of her children.
My poem is in love with humanity.
But, if my poem tells you she loves you,
you should not take that to mean she wants to marry you,
to have your babies or
to wash your socks.
And it wants to use words to paint pictures and evoke responses.
And it needs to open the skin to let the images bleed.
And it wishes that everyone who calls themselves a writer, then states that they never read poetry would realize they are only half the writer they could be.
And it wants to get into the hands of a million people so they will nod their heads and say ‘Yes’ I know exactly what she is saying.
#24 – The illusion disolver
When I see it,
I just can’t believe it
Many times I have been feeling it
But never ever could I see it
Right before my eyes
Never been thinking I would see it
Any day, but here I am,
With it in front of my very eyes
It’s amazing what it can do
And it opens a new hope
For all humanity
For all humankind
This strange thing
Doesn’t look like anything
Anyone has ever seen
Anywhere on this planet
Really is stunning what it does
It literally shows you all your illusions
All the things you believe that don’t serve you
On the path you’re actually walking
It shows you all your illusions
And dissolve it
To the incredulity
of your eyes
And now, no matter what you do or say,
Your life path is totally open
And the only thing left to do
Is walking step by step
On your magical path
To the great temple
Of your great achievement
Of a life lived in pure love