Children

Legal Rape

 

 

......................

 

families gather in a place of condemnation,

weary, excited, downtrodden, in a 'fair and equal' nation,

look foward to a day, when they see the face of a loved one,

behind a plexiglass window framed in steel, with the aura of being 'under a gun',

little ones elated, of the day they see daddy's face,

it matters not to them, they must be in this place,

just a look, a glimpse, of so much time lost,

and mothers, sisters and brothers, all pay the cost,

arrive at the gate, the car is searched,

and in the distance, the attack dogs, hungrily perched,

the car is dismantled, and questions of interrogation,

what are these pennies for? (i didn't know i needed a reason).

reaching the entryway, a small piece of material is given,

we ask, 'what is this for'? (no answer--excuse me for livin'),

one woman steps up to be searched for the visit,

"rub that piece of material across you breasts, ma'am", (what? this seems illicit!),

she complies, without complaint, because the kids want to see dad,

and now, she too, has been made to feel she is bad,

the other officers gawk, they seem to be enjoying this,

some even appear they'd love to give her a kiss,

little ones stare, they don't know of mama's shame,

mama says to them "oh honey, the nice man's just playing a game",

he takes the material, and places in a machine,

the drug test comes up negative, his face gets mean,

he tells her, "no, wait, miss!!! you can't go!" (it's like a threat),

"you must now rub it between your legs, we're not done with you yet!",

the woman looks at me, her face is beet red,

we all feel helpless, in shock, we can't believe what he said,

she takes the piece of material, and rubs it between her thighs,

he says "no not like that! higher!" (and this poor lady begins to cry),

he doesn't apologize, or have any sensitivity that what he's doing is rape,

his fears have swallowed him completely, 

our mouths are agape,

we all go through this process, feeling so violated, and psychologically torn,

then we force the smiles on our faces, we can't complain or mourn,

and this is just one ingenious scheme, an obstacle, one tactic,

that divides families who have someone in prison--(yes, you're right, it's sick),

had i not seen it with my own eyes, how these innocent people were made to sob,

why on earth do they have these obstacles and these people in these jobs?

so the one time these people get to see their loved one in a year,

they go through the entire visit, feeling bad, ashamed, and in fear.

 

9:36 AM 7/12/2013 ©

 

...................

ball of confusion

 

 

...............

people become highly indignant,

even declare war upon nations,

to murder millions in the name of a god 

that is the center of their 'religion',

but answer this: if your 'religion'

is a 'business', then why do you 

call it a 'religion'? and if your war 

is costing your nation millions 

of dollars to take the lives of 

millions of people, then who are 

you really fighting, your religion,

or your government? and who is 

fighting who?

 

1:26 AM 7/10/2013 ©

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=miZWYmxr8XE

 

 

................


Author's Notes/Comments: 

People moving out, people moving inWhy? Because of the color of their skinRun, run, run but you sure can't hideAn eye for an eye, a tooth for a toothVote for me and I'll set you freeRap on, brother, rap on
Well, the only person talking about love thy brother is the preacherAnd it seems nobody's interested in learning but the teacherSegregation, determination, demonstration, integrationAggravation, humiliation, obligation to my nation
Ball of confusionOh yeah, that's what the world is todayWoo, hey, hey
The sale of pills are at an all time highYoung folks walking round with their heads in the skyThe cities ablaze in the summer timeAnd oh, the beat goes on
Evolution, revolution, gun control, sound of soulShooting rockets to the moon, kids growing up too soonPoliticians say more taxes will solve everythingAnd the band played on
So, round and around and around we goWhere the world's headed, said nobody knows[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/ball-of-confusion-lyrics-temptations.html ]Oh, great GoogamoogaCan't you hear me talking to you?
Just a ball of confusionOh yeah, that's what the world is todayWoo, hey, hey
Fear in the air, tension everywhereUnemployment rising fast, the Beatles new record's a gasAnd the only safe place to live is on an Indian reservationAnd the band played on
Eve of destruction, tax deduction, city inspectors, bill collectorsMod clothes in demand, population out of hand, suicide, too many billsHippies moving to the hills, people all over the world are shouting'End the war' and the band played on
Great GoogamoogaCan't you hear me talking to you?
It's a ball of confusionThat's what the world is today, hey, heyLet me hear ya, let me hear ya, let me hear ya
Sayin' ball of confusionThat's what the world is today, hey, heyLet me hear ya, let me hear yaLet me hear ya, let me hear ya, let me hear yaSayin' ball of confusion

Read more: TEMPTATIONS - BALL OF CONFUSION LYRICS 



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A Poet's Wish

mystical magical words

of love,

bring me the child in all.

 

mystical magical child within,

remind me, 

unblind me

to my essence

again.

 

mystical magical 

moonlit night,

let blankets of 

moonbeams

restore my sight.

 

mystics in poetry,

angels of rhyme,

shower me,

empower me,

twirl love 

to infinity,

your gentleness is

grace so sublime!

 

 

Inspired by Allets 

 

©

 

 

 http://www.postpoems.org/authors/allets/poem/961824]

 

 

......

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thrown under the bus

nowadays all she does is whine about her bodily pains,

but when you were left alone, 

she stayed drunk, prowling the bars

days on end, 

oblivious to the emotional wreckage left

on your chest, like a hot iron

melted through the tender heart of a 10 year old,

the open wound to the 

skin, 

cauterized shut

too soon,

without even leaving any open flesh

for the pain to be released,

seared closed with the shame, pain, and false pride of generations,

sealed in for years like a safety box of magnets,

pulling you towards anything and everything self-destructive

in a desperate search for some morsel of hope,

that the next christmas dinner might be more than 

knocking on the doors of neighbors, being lucky enough to be

asked in to share a holiday meal, 

and an attempt to be noticed for something other than the burden

you were to her deep and fervent longing for 

the escape, into smoke filled rooms,

that reeked with the heavy, putrid smell of week-old frying grease,

cigarettes, and hairspray, that became one of your main

reasons for going to live with your dad--

other than the day she up and left for california,

a 50 dollar bill to substitute her mac and cheese, dribbled with 

one and a half inches of ashes off a pall mall,

only to be less than reluctantly welcomed by him,

and a stepbrother who most always was 

notably more worthy of better dirtbikes, nicer clothes 

and a much more frequent pat on the back 

for a job well done, 

that most often wasn't.

 

a dollar for him and quarter for you, along with the bottom bunk,

that smelled like pee from all the years he wet the bed,

only ever good enough for sloppy seconds--

and then there was brownie,

poor broken down swayback, with skin infections,

baldspots and degenertive bone disease,

in light of your brother's black stallion stud,

as if the 6 inch scar on the back of your leg wasn't enough 

from your father's drunken rage with a 4 inch hunting knife,

and the glass from the window that left it's souvenir the night he threw you

across the room, all before the age of 14.

 

shit.

i may have shot that horse between the eyes too.

 

 

 

 

11:37 PM 6/26/2013

©

 

 

.........

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just a poem about a kid.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=

 

.....

The Artisan's Throne

I think that just beyond the deepest point

Our souls can reach, 

There lies the place where 

Our children wait to incarnate,

 

And in the darkness, 

 

Actuated through voluminous walls of air,

Gravity sucks them into it's vacuum,

They enter into slimy saturation, 

And flesh and bone begins 

To imbue their being.

 

They permeate this budding existence 

Without defense, or knowledge,

Propelled by the force they left, 

Where they circled in space,

For thousands of Earth years.

 

Now a human, living love essence,

Bound to slice the charred debris

Of our sometimes too well thought out plans,

A step ahead of us they plow their way

To mold us, sometimes scold us, 

Scar and control us.

 

As they journey to become born, 

While seeds of this innate knowing

Burrow deep within their subconscious,

Our eyes, gazing upon the miracle of birth itself,

Project us into blissful delight at their presence,

 

Comforting us as we spar with the hand of mortality,

 

Reminding us in our deepest repression,

The space from which we came,

Taunting our moment of utter euphoria,

A subtle elusive gnawing query, 

Starved, by and through our own ignorance 

And trepidation of who we are.

 

So our retort to this vexatious notion 

Becomes an obsessive adoration 

Of these fleshy creations which do not even belong to us,

 

They are the squires of our purpose,

 

Like projectile bits of sawdust and splintered wood

From a carpenter's saw,

Remnants of the artisan's aspirations,

And humanity's desperation to fullfill the promise of 

A life well lived.

 

I used to love to watch my grandfather in his basement,

Carving fine artistry from rough edged pieces of wood,

As I rocked in the small rocking chair he made for myself,

My siblings and cousins, each taking our turns,

At the artisan's throne.

 

 

 

 

1:47 AM 6/25/2013 © 

 

 

 

 

...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A human experience

Diamonds in the rough

Another class act, opposites detract

My poor brain, the always speeding train

 

Let you me sing you praises, write your rainchecks

So kick me in the mind, won't you?

I'll take the long road

Burned out and refreshed once again

My lovesick impending implosion

Envy you

 

Sometimes I wanna give it all away ... or maybe just throw it astray

Light a light life in this insane world

Understand this safest choice

At my most beautiful, misunderstood

 

You're like a diamond in the rough

Shiny surfaces, just drilling on through

Maw and bone

Right down to my wanting soul

 

Intentions wane, like a tetanus shot stain

Save me from this stale mediocrity ache, with both eyes wide and awake

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Children Of A Future World

there is hope

only if we teach 

them to think,

not what to think.

 

6:23 PM 5/19/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Teaching children how to think on their own is something my generation wasn't too big on. I had to learn that for myself.

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The Lucky Ones.

Folder: 
Pain and Heartache

I watch them in the park,

The Lucky Ones.

Whose parents hug them tightly,

and wipe faces with thumbs.

I am jealous of them all,

with their happy little smile.

I wish that I could take their place,

and have them be me for a while.

I watch aghast as they get angry,

staring dumbfounded as they scream.

"I hate you, Mommy. Go away!"

all over being denied ice cream.

I wince inside myself,

braced for their punishment they'll get.

But it never comes done,

nothing like the pain I've met.

I watch as they cry,

screaming I don't want Burger King.

I wait for them to be hit,

smacked or kicked... SOMETHING!

But it never does,

and I feel sick inside.

Why does their happiness grow,

as mine slowly died.

I love to watch them be dragged away,

finally treated like me.

All the while complaining

and saying stop I have to pee.

Then they disobey again,

and run off towards the swings.

Slipping away from their parents

and jumping off of things.

Then finally they get caught

and I watch them cry.

Their parents pick them up

saying tell your friend goodbye.

They bound over and hug me

I squeeze back a little too tight.

Wishing all over again

that I could be them for one night.

Too have mommy hug me

and daddy shower me with love.

Bedtime stories and warm cookies

for their little dove.

But instead I must go home

to face my papa's fists.

While momma drinks to ignore my cries,

and cigarette smoke settles in like mist.

Then I wish anew and once again

that I was like other daughter's and sons.

That daddy and mommy would change,

But i guess that's just for the Lucky Ones.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Its about children who are abused looking at other "normal" kids and wondering why they can act out without being punished and wishing they could lead their lives. Basically its about being grateful that you have parents who care enough not to beat or mistreat you

Silent Praise

 

when you lay eyes upon a child,
whether he is pleasant, or cold
and unforgiving, do not only
see him as the child he is in the
present day, but as the future of
this country and the world.
he is a child but as well a teacher,
a parent, a suffragist creating
new paradigms, or preacher.

 

we speak loudest through those
things we reveal only with our
hearts and our eyes, so when

talking to children, scream
it at the top of your silence.

 

1:44 AM 5/5/2013