What is love?
Love is the complete absence of judgment!
What is hate?
Just open your window…and, you will see!
My Nation used to…
hold my hand against monsters that went bump in the night
She used to…
uplift my adolescent dreams of deciding what is wrong, what is right
My Nation used to applaud strangers
and allow them into our fight
In moments such as these…
darkened by self imposed dread
I had been raised to rally upon character
I had been taught to only bring enough food for everyone
to share, to share, to share.
My Nation used to…
not fear the shadows but embrace the light
She used to…
promote my speech and demote the placard might
Within the consoles of a closet…I could put my thoughts in a box
my Nation used to rally me to fight, fight, fight
Take long morning walks.
One sided talks.
it is not the toll of death…that bring forth the tears.
the let’s make pretend and forget…years.
Why is it the fractured limb…seems always the last to fall?
Why is it the large than life…pray on the smaller than small?
This life of…walking and rolling with the punches…
This feel of…your self motivating guilt…has lost it’s usefulness.
I can no longer take hand me down trips.
I may have been bred sick.
But I can choose to not live in your illness.
That is my prayer…as your god is my witness.
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.
Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time——
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene
An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.
I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You——
Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who
Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I’m finally through.
The black telephone’s off at the root,
The voices just can’t worm through.
If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two——
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There’s a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.
As she walks by in platform sandals
A portrait of pain and strength
The perseverance is aged by a life lived on tanned feet
Innumerable moments there have been since her fervor has strolled by my door
Timeless panicked seconds when she should stay but still she goes
Not always red, white or blue but forever a rainbow hue
I am needlepoint aware of where she walks today
She strides by with mask on and alms shared
It is not up to me to cast doubt upon whom else be within her infantry
To ponder her journey requires me to be just another enemy
Your thoughts while having coffee
You deserved to feel love that isn't spelled backwards
Aspiring to be the best at writing. Poetry lover, haiku and free verse to be precise, I hope to one day master
Mina upplevelser på de konserter och musikaler jag sett
a written aspirations to inspire.
Frank Regan in words
Just a messenger of the Lord
Pen to paper.
Running, Writing, Real Life Experiences & Relatable Content.
Rare Poetry and Food stories
Drawing a line through 50
viral quotes and pictures
I read lots of books, from mythology retellings to literary fiction and I love to reread books from childhood, this is a place to voice my thoughts for fun. I also like to ramble about things such as art or nature every now and again.
You'r Looking At The Right Place, Your Soul!
tips , tricks , advices
LOOKING INTO THE PAST ....
Original Beats By JakeBreh
Enjoying Life in the Ozarks