PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You dug your understanding into me in the effort to bridge a gap

waited too long to explain my journey so I took a nap

Let you watch it all happen only no one could see

Slavery and death every day they kill me

What they don’t tell you is I’ve always been free

Fireflies in a jar for the world to see

The only ones who don’t notice are the powers that be

Yet my path doesn’t stifle me

This changes our playing field

From imaginary mine pit to a dream that’s real

Just want you to know how I feel

There are no words

We shall overcome

Let my people go

But where will we go?

Just let us LIVE 

We’re forced to love you

And it’s starting to work

After all these centuries of destruction and hurt

Who i am is difficult to describe with the origins burnt

You think you know based on what you learned?

Lies are what keeps our faces turnt

Only I KNOW MY TRUTH. 

Yes there’s History but it’s a lie and the mystery is how i made it sooo high

You should care to know all about that but why?

More convenient to to try and sigh with my disregard for the history

I don’t think of it because it angers me

To go forward now feels like I’m starting the fight

Because they forgot no one was right

I got my own lane out of the deal

And i take it when i create something real

It’s all my own so no one can take it

I thank my ancestors for helping to make it

When the time is right they won’t see me coming

But will wonder who that is with all the soulful whimsical humming

I need not quote when few will listen 

fresh words are required that the people can get with

I’ll leave the excavations to the fall out kings 

In the center of this fight I’ve learned some things

I’ll not be lecturing on this war on me

But if you open your eye’s you too will see

The constant threat of enemies

Only engage the direct approach

Change hate to love and squash the roach

But honestly i seldom encounter 

Those types of problems

Yet they still exist

So i still resist

Until the day there is bliss

You put war on my lips, do you still want a kiss?

Another abandoned
filthy cliche, 
left astray
laying displayed on the highway,
as if to say
Our American Way
is decadent and hollow.

It floats up above our head

Made of colorful thread

The first one was made by hand 

And even that one looked so grand

It's always inspired me

When it's up there for all to see

It gets soldiers through the night

So they wake up to see the light

Because when they see it flying

It reminds them why they kepp on trying

It represents the land of the free

And it means everything to me

It's lasted through all the ages

And people write about it, pages and pages

Without it, our country is naught

Even though so many have fought

All those soldiers on the front lines

Reminds me that this country of mine 

Is always free, through and through

All because of that Red White and Blue.

Hello son,

You've lived for those days.

Comforted-

You've lift the sun rays-

Trickled down the face-

Of the wealthy man.

What love entails-

Forgotten in time.

Forbidden, through-

The faded lust in your eyes.

Red, white and blue-

Seem so dull these days.

Grated by the lies that they tell-

Molded by political hell.

Send shivers and twist these spines-

Pride and courage bleed out those minds.

Amazing,

How they're made to feel grand-

Stars burst into dust and fade in the sands.

Held your weight to the floor.

Creating light out of noise-

Hoping everyone praises you-

Popular stand.

Close your eyes and begin.

As this life will soon spin-

Don't let anyone tame you.

National treasure

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

O my great one! 

How you shine! Shine! Shine!

The arms of the ages open,

Receiving those worn, scarred and weary souls

To embrace a new freedom of dreams!

O my soul of loving concern,

For those beaten by war, 

And the ravages of man's frailties 

That most often lurk unseen within his being,

Lift up your best alms,

And transform those regrets 

Beyond the iniquities of the past.

Streets paved with the shadows 

Of lonely and searching immigrants 

Lost in time and groping for security,

Never allowing malice to obsure your divinity.

Shine! Shine! Shine On!

6:23 PM 7/8/2013 ©

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

The Hungry Secularist is a poem from my e-book of 79 pages, Don't Swallow The Toothpaste. You can purchase the book at whatever price you would like to pay by clicking the link provided at the bottom of the page!

I put on my boots
before realizing another holiday
snuck up on me.
Walked into the bedroom
and called two major grocery stores.
No answer.
I looked at what fruit was
on the shelf.
There were a couple apples,
an orange,
and one tomato.
Not enough to get me through this
Easter Sunday and work tomorrow.

I went online to a map search,
typed "grocery", and found a little market 3 blocks away.
As I approached
there was an old neon soda
sign broken in half,
but I was optimistic
and hungry.

I entered the market
and grabbed a basket
circling the store a couple of times
before asking the young man
if they had bananas and tangerines.
He asked what I was going to use
them for.
I said, "I'm sorry?"
"What are you going
to use them for?"
"The tangerines?"
Yes - he said
I replied, "To eat."
He led me over to the cooler,
"You know what's good? Take a lime and cut it into wedges
and roll it in sugar."
I didn't have sugar at home due to just moving in,
and if I did,
the thought of eating a lime in
any manner makes my asshole pucker.
It's probably something he saw
on an MTV Spring Break episode.
He told me when the bananas
ripened they were gone.

I usually reserve one day a week
to eat anything. I grabbed a can of
Vienna Sausages,
mustard sardines, clam chowder soup,
then a couple of things that weren't as fattening.
I forgot to look for canned fruit.

I'm on my 3rd cup of coffee and
making a lot of runs to the bathroom.
The wooden floor squeaks in the
hallway as I try to find the tight spots to step,
so I don't wake a roommate.

For whatever reason
my sinuses are flared
and my throat sore.
We've had 5" of snow the last
two days,
and the wind chill on this
23rd of March is 26*.

March Madness
is winding its way
to the Sweet 16.
I remember the fever
in Carolina this time of year.
Between and after games
we would sometimes meet up
to shoot hoops.
In Minnesota on days like this
when outside,
I just work to dodge the yellow
spots from where the neighbors
walked their dogs.

Jim Creston
March 23, 2008
All Rights Reserved

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Blue Ribbon in Louisiana

Window panes pecked

Paint chipped, shingles sagged

Green and yellow spindle and wood

Reptilian stealth and greedy claws

Guards porcelain innocence young

Crystal cold drinks and thumping sun.

There's a local boy in the heat,

Dried grass and Grandpa's shirts, he works.

Curly top sits in her Manor,

With twists and a blue ribbon frame

white cotton trip and rosy-pink punctuation

Playground raking the grass

Small-town Romeo, her darling

and his tricks of the trade

his eye for a bite,

head full of jaw terrors and scars

Papa comes home at dusk,

when the guards turn docile and tired.

Have a drink and a swing and a paddle,

and a little' lady's lips to whisk your dreams wild. 

I cannot begin to fathom how I work so goddamn hard for years, scraping together every coin I can get my hands on in order to save and end up in a bottomless pit where I cannot see a light. There was once a light when I was young, but that light has gotten dimmer over the years. How can this country pride itself in being a land of dreams when I've been here for 20 years with nothing to show for it? I am having my independence slowly stripped away from me all because I follow every law, every rule, every guideline this country has put in front of my face since birth. When other countries criticize Americans, they should be criticizing the government who runs it, not the people who live in it. The people who run it no longer know what it means to live. They simply do; they do not think.

At the end of the conference,

In my jealousy, I sat there.

And saw BO from a distance,

Between the stage at its end.

He came walking my direction,

And I thought he passed me by.

In fact, enclosure, standing in front of my sight,

And gave me pegs, 'cause I had to be a child.