Brother

an ode to my bro about our olds

Folder: 
Personal

 

 

Greetings Ross how do you do

just had to write a poem to you

about 23 XXXXXXX road

and stuff you should know

Mum is so full of judgement

blocks love, not heaven sent

dad does try his best

for mum, doesnt meet her tests

 

Dad is in a no win

i dont like all the suffering

mum doesnt like the truth

she runs away from her uncouth

atmosphere here is well bad

and is making me so sad

my friends olds a carbon copy

happening to EVERY older family

 

its one thing saying get out

dad out of the house

he sleeps lots of the time

body failing, its a sign

but dad only sleeps constantly

being fed loads of food

not burning any calories

 

the whole thing needs to change

got no chance at their age

i will honestly do what i can

your brother is a magician

 

but my van still isnt right

no worries the garage are alright

looking at it again tomorrow

to sidestep my motoring sorrow

Im telling you now i need

a van in my life constantly

custom campers cost too much

and too light to carry loads of stuff

 
that old ambulance i found

suit everyone down to the ground

fold down steps, plenty of room

decked out, table and loo

electric, table for a brew

but theres another issue too

an income but not from you

im trying to sort stuff down here

so the olds i can be near

I need my computer from home

With certain information

I have an e book income

 
in between havent a penny

how do i take dad out daily?

I know your under the gun

Im busy making my own luck

I need a sacred site Sunday too

A manifesting ritual to do

Important for future positivity

Only on a new moon: Sunday

 
I know you can barely believe

Rituals, as old as the trees

Never a battle; dark and light

You have to manage it alright

I did a rite Saturday

To keep away negativity from me

 
Noone can manufacture energy

Magicians manipulate; banish negativity

Just learnt it of old family

Magicians from wales and normandy

Lived thousands of years ago

Now its a pleasure to know

 
Credit where credit is due

Im not here for me or you

I could have borrowed money

A while back to get away free

Of all of mums negativity

The sky aint my limit at all

Just the start of me walking tall

Yet another hiiden language code

To disempower dont you know

Im so far down the rabbit hole

My soul the system nearly stole

Too amazing up here

Im not coming out for no one

But when mum finds ink on sheets

And a broken tablet pc

I wont be the favourite son

You, Miska and Roman buckets of love

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My Baby Brother

Baby blue eyes and curly hair,

wild and crazy, like a lil' bear.

Chubby cheeks and only 3 feet tall,

playing with him, oh, its ball!

Even thought he is only 2 years old,

he is very brave and bold.

He is adorable and as cute as can be,

this little boy's name is Coby!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

what you think? my baby brother is such a cutie! i wrote this for him<3 Tongue Out

Last Stand

Awakening to whistles piercing walls
Seeing women running by 
Watching little men cry
I began to question "where am I?"
 
Thundering roars threw me
Metal dropping down like rain
The people writhing in pain
Should I lie down 
 
The crushing noise of the vehicles engine
Many people lying in its path
I could feel the behemoth wrath
I wondered if I was next
 
I saw my helmeted brother
The color on his chest
He had decided to take a rest
I knew he would see me soon
 
Life of oppression is promised
This is my last stand 
Alone with my brothers we take deaths hand
For death is the solace of freedom 
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my ode entitled 'i love you'

Folder: 
Personal

you may be

chalk to my cheese

but i love you

 

fell indebted to you

part of me

love you too

 

you may live

a different life

I still love you

 

couldnt live on

planets any different

I'd still love you

 

your worlds perfect

hair; mine isnt

I still love you

 

Our different lives

poles apart

I still love you

 

Nothing material

built to last

except love: True

 

stuff n my world

made to last

with love, get through

 

my bohemian lifestyle

with you, doesnt compute

I still love you

 

Im proud of you

soon, will be of me

I still love you

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Abandoned Child

Folder: 
Poetry

My brother died,

And in his place;

I was born;

But I was repelled.

 

My mother threw me from the table,

Abused me, both mind and body.

My father never present,

And if so, he ignored me.

They left each other fast,

'cause mother was a lesbian.

But my father needed a woman,

For his children and as a housewife.

 

The second was quite alright,

Even if she made me eat axis.

Only my sister I couldn't see,

That became off limits.

 

After years they had their divorce,

And then came the third, the most terrible.

My wicked stepmother,

The greatest dictator.

 

She tried to strangle my brother,

Then father did interfere.

She put me in the sanitarium,

With false motives, my fear.

 

Firstly in a crisis-centra,

'cause I run away from home.

Then in the sanitarium,

Where I for six months did roam.

 

In the sanitarium,

Provided with medication.

By which I lost my memory,

Crawling in the emptiness of chaos...

 

Regularly I suffered blackouts,

By which I saw nothing.

Not knowing what I did,

Much like sleep-walking;

And strange vistas occurred.

 

I wasn't suffering delirium,

Is what the doctors told.

So all this time,

I was in the asylum for no reason.

 

Then I had to go to boarding-school,

Where I developed something bad: anger.

I wanted to kill another, a female;

And Nyarlathotep, I am sorry;

Maybe I didn't wanted to commit this act,

But I had to from Satan...

 

What happened was unforeseen,

'cause my room was now aflame.

The building completely in axis,

The police came to arrest me.

 

A year and a half in prison,

Locked away in a cell, in Hell.

A year and a half terror,

The bondage of society.

 

When I got out, there was another project,

Named room-training.

I had to work in a factory,

But that didn't end well...

I started to mutilate myself,

Which I learned in the sanitarium.

They send me to the hospital,

To the psychiatric division.

Then again to the crisis-centra,

Which I didn't liked at all.

As if I had to start over,

This was too much overall...

 

Through the open door I escaped,

And from my last money;

I was buying a train-ticket,

Which brought me to Ramses.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my autobiography.

an ode to my bro and his family

Folder: 
Personal

Greetings Guys and how do you do
Just had to write a poem to you
Roman at Ankor Wat, are you too?
Such a magical place to use

The best thing about the complex
Not its size, like Birmingham
Or the view over Siem Reap
The best thing is its energy

When I went visiting there
Of spirituality just didn’t care
I was spiritually vacant like you
And had no idea of the truth

I just saw the dollar pollute
And no old people take root
Pol pot killed a generation
With the help of the CIA stationed
please dont miss the killing fields too
a great big earthing of truth

But when I did visit there
My budget for a day 20 dollar
Only stayed for a night or two
didn’t like the spiritually uncouth

also the price of the food
though it may be cheap to you
4 bucks for a main meal
Was a price that made me squeal

Some other things you shouldn’t miss
Sunset at the top of the temple complex
And please buy stuff off the kids
It helps keep them off the skids

I have done stuff, or rather not me
To help you use the energy
That permeates the whole place
So full of the divines grace
Got Auriel and Gabriel to thank too
And the light, all been helping you

But one other thing YOU ALL MUST DO
Go to the dead centre. MUST DO
Of the main Ankor temple complex
And stay there for 30 minutes

There is the energy you need
To make your life go effortlessly
And have an amazing holiday
In these age of aquarius happy days

much love

Daz xxx

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He will be missed (in memory of Tiny)

He was the middle one, in our gang of three
There was Ronnie, Lawrence and third was me.
From early on, trouble we were
just ask Sis, we tried burning her.
I was to young to remember that time
Mom tells it well, and how she made us three whine.
I do remember some times we had
like the brothers three; at the lake with dad.
I hope dad greets you, when you arrive
then you'll both have love by your side.
Lawrence will be missed by more then me
He was loved by more, then just family!
I remember too when I got shot
The gun in his hands, believe it or not.
he dropped the gun, and off he ran
Because I'd kick his ass, and you know I can.
Yes dear brother, we had some times
So in your honor, I write these rhymes.
I will miss you, truly I will
Tho sometimes we fought, I loved you still!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

dedicated in honor of my brother who passed away at 9:42 am on 01/01/2013
Goodbye Tiny...

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Stanley and Dad

Ever since Dad got leukemia, his brother has been by his side.
Stanley is a good brother, that's something that can't be denied.
Stanley is Dad's only sibling, he has no other.
Dad is very lucky to have him for a brother.
Stanley takes Dad to the doctor and even mows his lawn.
If Stanley didn't help my dad, he would be gone.
I would take Dad to the doctor but I'm unable to drive.
Because of Stanley's efforts, Dad is still alive.
Stanley is a caring person, that is a fact.
And that's a statement that I won't retract.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Dedicated to Stanley Johnson, my uncle.

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Carlos´s Soccer Ball

Since we were little my parents have always told my brothers and me to be in sports, I had been in tennis, basquetball, dance classes, and more. I had not think about it, but my brother’s sport was mostly one. Carlos used to be obsessed with soccer. All of his childhood was basically with that sport. My grandmother always likes to tell us a story about when he was a baby, and she was watching TV with him, she would put on a soccer game he would suddenly pay close attention, and when she would change the channel, he’d look away or start doing something else. And ever since I can remember my house has always been full of soccer balls, what else could I have expected growing up with 3 brothers. I remember when we were little and I had to play with them, I got really scared of the ball because they would hit it really hard. Anyways, there were some big, some small, and in all the colors possible. But there was one, the special one, a white Adidas ball with black and golden lines that had been sold for the FIFA world cup 2006. I think one of my aunts gave it to him as a gift. He really loved that ball. I remember when we were little, he used to take it everywhere. We could be driving in the car with my mom, eating dinner, or just being at the house, and he would be there with it maybe kicking it, tossing it, holding it or something. He used to go to his soccer matches and when he would get back even if they had lost or won, he would go out and with it a little more time. It is funny to think back at that, considering that Carlos doesn’t play soccer that much anymore, and the last soccer ball I have seen in my house was in my backyard. A dirty blue ball my dog broke.

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