Praying for Words

A long and arduous journey…getting to the bottom of words.

those that are remembered

those that I have written down

those jumbled in sleepy positions…only to waken us with cold sweat.

One has to be curious…have my sentences…changed my world?

I pitch a tent, repeatedly, at the godforsaken, blasphemous, bolted door.

But words never take off her shoes…

she never promises to stay.

My words rush out in a horribly, organized, chaotic…state.

Massive…this war on word!

I shove letter upon letter onto an empty, paper plate.

And, my compromised, composition, kneels shoulder to shoulder at the church of lost faith.

One Cool Cat

bern

the Cool cat

The cool cat,
is just standing there.
The cool cat,
doesn’t even glare.
The cool cat,
thinks he’s so hot.
The cool cat,
doesn’t give a snot.
The cool cat,
doesn’t listen in class.
The cool cat,
thinks his better than the rest.
The cool cat,
really has no friends.
The cool cat,
smokes after school.
The cool cat,
left his family.
The cool cat,
is a player.
The cool cat,
has no prayers.
The cool cat,
has no savers.
The cool cat,
is one tough dude.
But really….
The cool cat,
is one big fool.
#Jasmine Aira

Inner Slavery

contrary 1

 

Contrarian world before you lay eventuality at quarreling feet.

Before you lay, Lady Justice blind before a flame of disarray…

Be there dismayed progression

or

stigmatized convention…

turn your withered page…

watch the rich cobbler feel his rage.

contrary 6

Crops gone awry.

Desert downtown’s begin their end.

Elders loosing wages…

‘Befriend me, respect me’, Lady Liberty gasps.

Let her stake her stand

with corporate robe and open hand.

 

Fastidious freedom,

liberty graveyards,

eminent domain destinies…

Do tell, the woman from the Ellis isle…

When will your hate walk the last mile.

contrary 5
Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery. None but ourselves can free our minds.” ― Bob Marley

Death, to the dead for Evermore

DEATH, to the dead for evermore
A King, a God, the last, the best of friends –
Whene’er this mortal journey ends
Death, like a host, comes smiling to the door;
Smiling, he greets us, on that tranquil shore
Where neither piping bird nor peeping dawn
Disturbs the eternal sleep,
But in the stillness far withdrawn
Our dreamless rest for evermore we keep.

For as from open windows forth we peep
Upon the night-time star beset
And with dews for ever wet;
So from this garish life the spirit peers;
And lo! as a sleeping city death outspread,
Where breathe the sleepers evenly; and lo!
After the loud wars, triumphs, trumpets, tears
And clamour of man’s passion, Death appears,
And we must rise and go.

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Soon are eyes tired with sunshine; soon the ears
Weary of utterance, seeing all is said;
Soon, racked by hopes and fears,
The all-pondering, all-contriving head,
Weary with all things, wearies of the years;
And our sad spirits turn toward the dead;
And the tired child, the body, longs for bed.

#Robert Louis Stevenson