24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Running towards desires
The Teens chase demanding situations
Each lesson teaches new ideas
Despite the fact that failures some time frustrates
If he bet his weaknesses
And overview himself, to reinforce his purpose
There’s no unique principle to win
If he accepts as true with himself without doubts
Without any doubts, Dedication chaos
Running exhibits, racing victory to run !
Prompt 21
Hour-21
Butterfly Kites
Soaring through the air, streaks
of black and yellow meet
the clouds. Little laughs sing
on the breeze, fingers wrapped
in white string, not letting
their joy fly away.
abandoned haveli
the glint of a silver anklet
from the last room
Ghazal with the night as climate change.
I open the remains of the night
And pour them into dark vastness, the night.
Everything I seem to love is growing into cracks,
My brother is the first to see, body of darkness —night
My brother is everything bent the wrong way—C
Every where the pain forgets to nest it ruin—night
My brother is a body of liquids —sea
Every where what drowns returns to life —night.
I sit beneath what used to be a tree,
An inferno of beautiful things in my mouth; call it night
I spit all the darkness, all the silence into all the wrong places,
The furrow on my accent is louder than my voice, I bury the night
Everything that covers a prayer and does it well,
Can be tagged beautiful in Arabic and called night
My mother would mistake my brother’s name
For sukko, in gbagyi it’s the only way to say night
My uncle nurtures an oak tree, my sister wants
A beach house so we take down the tree: night?
We put pillars everywhere that could home a tree
The beach house stands erect in the absence of trees—night
I gather my silence every time gasses erupt
Like little prayers in the sanctuary of God: night.
I Feel Like There’s a Poem In Singing ‘Stick Season’ as I Drive Across The Colorado River While Lake Travis is at 40% Capacity On The Coolest Summer of the Rest of Our Lives While Realizing I Likely Won’t See Another Season of the Sticks Again
but I can’t quite get it out.
Standing tall at the alter smile pasted on, eyes misty groomed and polished attending all social niceties Mind chatter buffered incapable of feeling love giving love despite effort I am defective Promises made and partially intended trying to avoid harm but we will be upended because I am defective My backdoors are found in others who fawn and dote and of course there's mother because I am defective
beet
jacket
tremor
bayou
elbow
lightbulb
cinnamon
bucket
elk
carport
Her cheeks were *beet* red as determination became her
She owned it was never easy to leave your comfort zone
And start from the scratch
She could do this, thus assuring herself
She donned a life *jacket*
Filled a *bucket* with odds and ends, including tools, *lightbulbs* , knickknacks And swinging it over her shoulders,
Ran to the *carport* and unlocking her beloved Mercedes, Extracted her lucky charm bracelet and favourite perfume
With *cinnamon* and floral notes
She ran to a sleek boat that was waiting for her in the *bayou* adjoining her island
Before she stepped in, she felt a tug at her *elbow*
It was a wild *elk* that she had saved when it was an infant
And now often followed her for treats
She kissed it goodbye and took a last look at her old world
A tremor of uncertainity and fear gripped her for a few seconds
Sighing deeply, she tossed her head and sat in the boat
Life herein would be difficult but it would be her journey; good or bad…!
ABANDONED
Abandoned thoughts
Unloved,unprotected,unkind
I seek freedom
Abandoned needs
Unhungry, unthirsty, unfit
I seek belonging
Abandoned feelings
Uncertain, unchained, undoubtful
I seek out my identity
Endlessly
Hour Twenty Inspiration= “Cluster One” Pink Floyd
5:43
Hot are the rivers
running through scaled eyes
blinded by the serpentine
motivations and macabre machinations
of the world of today
every day lacking
the promise of tomorrow.
Lord, hear our prayers
as we silently wilt
our petals fall with
an absent minded cause for concern.
We realize this world requires
a shift in perception
from the mummified remains
of wise old trees
ringed with years of stately experience
that have seen far more than we.
They are filleted into thin slices
and stuffed into the mouths of
those whose authority
govern the people
seething with ulterior motives
and promises broken like spirits-
Lord, hear our prayers
as we gather in hushed whispers
and the biting of fists-
our fear of standing out
standing up
at the injustice of greed
as nothing is filled more than pockets
with no thought to starving mouths
that lack the strength in jaw
to speak out or chew upon
another daily headline of
another corrupt institution –
failing in moral and character.
It is one thing to have fault,
yet another to continue the cycle of it.
The world, an unholy empire
built upon the backs of popular vote
and someone else’s work
for none consider a change in habit
and that fact is cause to salivate
where corporations pay homage
to the next candidate
with a vote of confidence
and clandestine bribery
to adjust tax brackets
and let it ride
the coattails of mudslinging,
ensuring the victory- a campaign of hate
and the blatant traces of facade.
Lord, hear our prayer
as we cry to heaven
as countries vie to expand
their attention upon expounding dominance
of yet another land-
not a battle of wits, but a measuring stick.
In a world where the appetite for power replaces
the wealth of knowledge
and subterfuge, loopholes, and manipulation
becomes the goalpost-
we neglect to realize that
wisdom and education is our fountain of youth
as opposed to the artificial cosmetics
affixed unnaturally to
the beauty of imperfection.
The world craves attention,
yet goes about it in the wrong way
for we fill our bellies with materialism
and the next best thing
comparison to who has the best new what
instead of filling our hearts
with love that has become
so fleeting in this cruel world.
Lord, hear our cries
as deep within the hollow
we know the truth-
a candle lit in memoriam
for the faith and hope that many have lost
as circumstances have much want to improve
They’re snuffed out and dimmed by
the shadows of suits and power plays
as we believe our father and not our Father
knows best…
As jealousy and envy pave the road
to our own demise-
competition became a war
borne of death, destruction, and ego
as it collides with faltering self-worth;
an uprising as the neglect to our own talents
leaves us no room for improvement
to highlight how intricate and substantial
each soul truly is and what
we as individuals can contribute
as we play to our strengths.
This has become a realm where
pride wires shut the mouths
and ties the tongue in knots-
a place where assumptions rule opinion
and emotion becomes fact
and not felt
The world a gameshow
where the winner takes all
and leaves behind no crumbs to those
who break their backs
and hearts to survive.
Lord Father, hear our cries to heaven
and bestow upon us Your righteous hand
shield us from the growing savagery
and crack open the tomb of our hearts,
uplift our broken spirits
that have shattered upon the rocks
thrown through every window
of our lives.
Meeting Mothman in the Coffee Shop
Is that.. Is that really him? Tall wings of luscious.. Is it feathers? Or fur? Either way, I thought he would be taller and yet I can’t look away from him or his bicycle brake eyes scanning the menu in search of today’s selection. Those fur-slash-feathers seem to suck the light around him like they’re a black hole I would gladly swim through. Oh, who am I kidding? Everyone’s favorite Cryptid wouldn’t be interested in my scaley claws. Or a body that’s 40 feet long while my legs are as long as a croc’s. Besides, how could I invite a glorious moth to visit me in my home under a lake? Fur-slash-feathers can’t be comfortable when soaking wet. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh Shit. He’s walking over towards me. Okay, deep breaths to hide your excitement. Just act normal. You can do that. You’re a regular old cryptid and can act like one. Yeah, I got this. I’m just going to look at… that poster! Yeah! The… handwashing poster… shit. He’s a fellow cryptid, it’ll be fine… Wait, what is fame made him stuck up? And he gets mad about me being In His Space? Whatever, poster, yeah. Oh, wait, that’s my order…
“Oh! Did we order the same drink? I’m sorry, you were here first so this is definitely yours.”
He’s talking to me?! Fuck, answer him! Quick! “Hah, I guess so. Not a whole lot of cryptids get their coffee Dread Free around here.”
“Yeah, which is weird because not everyone wants Dread. I’m Mothman by the way. You must be Bear Lake Monster?” He knows who I am?! What?? “I’m on my way to that new exhibit at the museum about what humans think cryptid zoology is like… Would you like to join me? After my coffee is ready of course.”
He knows who I am? FuckFuckFuck. Act cool. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”