The stream (all workshops)
There once was a guy, (the Grim Reaper)
who worked for the sovereign gatekeeper,
creepy and blithe,
carried a scythe,
a stick with a blade for a sweeper.
He tapped at my door last eve,
skank, creaky bones up his sleeve,
clanked when he pointed,
crudely disjointed,
they fell to the floor with a heave.
He slithered along my hand,
with my fist, I took a stand,
stared down his face
(dank, putrid space).
Thwack! I left him canned.
Aye, the people,
Ode to war and cowardice,
Life can never get all,
All never satisfies,
Man and greedy on a nuptial bliss,
Thirsts fo chimerical engulfs;drunkens.
Take it to the present,
The past that births the present,
When bones and charms armed us,
And oil lamps humanizes our nights,
Fathers palm- wined in raffias,
And ravishing beauties barely covers.
Uzinna was glorious.
Being invisible would be great for me
All the things I would be able to see
I could observe what my friends would be saying
Sometimes it would be a bit dismaying
Other times I was greatly impressed
By what I heard being addressed
I could view my family’s sadness
And see how I could relieve their madness
I could checkout all the women I see
Without them able to see me
Is being invisible right for me?
Am I the man I want them to see?
Is being invisible really a blessing
Or is it really distressing
She walked beside the sea like so many times before,
She looked out upon the water as she stood there on the shore…
The tears ran down her face in a flood of raw emotion.
Gingerly she took a single step into the ocean…
She tried her best to block out all those painful memories,
But just a moment later she was right up to her knees…
It wasn’t an impulsive act nor was it done in haste,
In less than thirty seconds she was right up to her waist…
Death stopped by my window today
landing on the sill
peering in
then flying away
Not sure why he didn’t stay
perhaps he did
slipped in
planted his seed
Will the black roses bloom
soon?
As in most things relativity is in play,
No more so than in passion's way,
Passion can be hell or bliss,
An open hand ot frightening fist.
It is the artist's muse, a dancer's music,
The red hot glow of a poet's lyric,
The backseat of a young lover's car,
Mankind's reaching for the stars.
It can also be a Hitler's voice,
Lending men down a hate-filled course,
Or mushroom clouds leaving only ashes,
As horrible as the insane fascists.
I AM INVISIBLE
I can be seen, but I am not
As if a shadow, and discreet
Yet I will never admit defeat
A mirror image I can’t greet
No words in ink, just a blot
Some may consider it an edge
Privy to everything that’s said
Eyes and ears from desk to bed
Even if the mood is turning red
A secret spy out on the ledge
I hear and see but never tell
Ranging from issues of security
Sometimes reflecting impurity
Perhaps destined for obscurity
But discretion, I know too well
I'd like to be invisible
How much fun you think it'd be
If they couldn't see you
when you pinched their knee?
Sometimes I really wonder
what do people do
when no one is about
I'll bet you wonder too
But peeping in on people
is rude, or so they say
So, I guess that when they're looking back
I'll return another day.
He was young but still he knew
He didn't learn like others did,
He thought that he was slow to learn
And just a different kind of kid.
His friends were close and many
But they all seemed to have a gift,
To remember what they learned in school
While the boy just stayed adrift,
Most kids gave their full attention
While the boy dreamed of other places,
He wished to be away from school
And the judgmental, staring faces.
with kidnapping little boy
ordered to suffer
life sentence without parole.
The deadly scourge of
one obsessive/compulsive disorder
nearly left me starving to death.
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