I'll Be There!
i know you've been feeling sad and your almost at the end
and nothing anyone does or says helps you around the bend
so when your feeling this way and dont think anyone will care
life isnt always rosey but look behind you and i'll be there
the bad in life will make you feel like your sinking in quicksand
if you struggle too much you'll sink into the unforgiving land
but dont dispare there'll never be a time that im not aware
you'll never have to face the pain alone because ill be there
remember when your feeling blue just who'll be there for you
close your eyes and feel me holding on untill your not so blue
i will always be there for you when life you can not bare
and no matter where i hang my hat remember i'll be there!!!
zoeycup
I think of you now and then,
Gravity pulls us together,
Thoughts of you,
Made from broken parts,
I look into your eyes,
Passion and love inside,
Scared to let it out,
Bruised and scarred,
Life can be cruel,
You dont have to hide,
The walls you have made,
Let me inside,
I can show you its not so bad,
Hold your heart gently in my hands,
Kiss it tenderly,
Never break it or hurt you,
I couldnt do that,
Not to you,
Things I can show you,
Love and understanding,
Its like you are here with me now,
Beside me on the bed,
Instead of just in my head.
If I could color my words
I would paint them when I send it to you
If you were sad, I would send them in gray
you can stay in the mist as long as you want
If you feel in chaos, I would send them in green
The only anser is in a garden
If you were happy, I would send them in yellow
It would give you wings
If you were in tense, I would send them in black
It would absorb your fear
If you were relaxed, I would send them in blue
You would remember the night at the ocean and moon in the sky
If you were fragile, I would send them in violet
It would remind you that calm in silence
If you feel free, I would send them in rainbow.
You would realize that you are not alone
Care
By jfarrell
At noon my ‘parents’ went on strike;
Children’s home, NALGO union…
National strike…
Nothing to do with us…
The children in care.
They walked out at noon.
The ‘Suits’ came round;
Council officials…
“We have to move you.”
My younger sister…
Boarding school in Wales….
Me… only space we got is borstal…
“SORRY! NO! NOT MOVING!”
Throughout the afternoon - police amassed;
Helmets, riot shields, batons….
That ONE police van….
Rocking, with muffled barking…
A dark grey freezing cold afternoon quickly became….
Dark, overcast, scary….
I saw that van open and all I saw was…
Teeth, hungry teeth, million dogs gonna eat me, bite me, hurt me….
I ran…..
Didn’t know where to, just away from here…
My breath misting in the air….
So cold….
Smell of burning….
It’s nearly guy fawlkes night….
What do you expect?……
The ashes floating past me
Were my CSE ‘A’ s …..
My education, my future,
Racing ahead of me in the freezing cold night.
I didn’t know….
And if I did,
Was there anything I could do?
15 years old, my children’s home going up in flames.
this is CARE!
For a political dispute….
I cut myself off from my family, forever;
And didn’t see my future burn as I did it.
I was just scared and running away from the dogs;
35 years later….
I’m not a meaningful, productive member of society;
I phone my sister her birthday, she phones me mine;
That’s it!
At 11 I was taken into ‘Care’;
“the Care of the State”.
Knowing why I, and my sister, were here…..
They still went out on strike…
Has the ‘Care System’ changed since then?
In loco parentis
By jfarrell
The October, before my CSE’s…
My ‘parents’ went on strike;
My children’s home was closed, overnight….
Very violently.
I cut my ties with my family, that night; forever;
And my coursework, homework projects and text books
I didn’t realise the ashes floating past me was my future;
I didn’t even know a fire had been started.
Who’d worry bout all the ‘A’ grades they were expected to get;
Who’d say goodbye, forever, to mum, dad, and younger sister?
Who’d be so arrogant? So stupid?
A 15 year old kid, scared of growing up to be his dad?
I have always been my ‘in loco parentis’;
You see a nearly 50 year old man;
I am 6 years old, trying to talk my dad outta beating me
Learning that the ‘very free sweets, toys and comics’ have a price;
My parents were not fit enough!
And the children’s home…. I need parents… politics? Strike?
In this world, this life, that has never made any sense….
How have I done? As a parent?
I think, I’d have had me locked up, long ago.
Not fit, to be near children….
Or anyone.
A dream last night
By jfarrell
I dreamt, last night, that my mum had died;
I wonder if it’s prophetic,
The way some dreams are;
And I should be ashamed I feel no sadness, no loss.
I got taken into care when I was 11;
(“ and you probably deserved it; only thugs, feral children
And criminals end up in care; you probably deserved it”);
Is the unspoken accusation I hear, all my life.
My ‘loving, responsible’ mother
Poured a bottle of vodka down my 8 year old sister’s throat;
Then dumped her, unconscious, on the outside stairs,
When she collapsed.
I bet, when my nan and uncle were told about us going into care
There was no mention of alcohol;
I was always the scapegoat;
I was always to blame, every bad was my fault.
Hearing that my dad had died, did not release me from the pain;
I doubt my mum’s death will either;
And, 25 years from now I will still be cursing her;
As I do my father, 25 years dead now.
"It's been a bit,
since I've written real words,
real verbs, letters lined up
to litter the page
with alliteration,
metaphors, hyperboles,
other devices that help gain
your undivided attention.
It's been a bit,
I almost quit,
because the last time I was on stage,
I felt like a tripped.
I felt like I didn't perform,
I knew I was pulling punches,
because there was much to consider,
but now it's got me a little bitter.
I held back.
I held back,
lowering my tone,
juxtaposed to my actual voice;
loud.
I held back,
because of the
familiar face
In the crowd.
I held back,
instead of letting it rip,
taking people on a little trip
to recount how one's lid
was flipped.
I held back
because I was scared
that I wasn't hip
and I wasn't hop,
when I was raised on Wu-Tang
and Nas
in a place where
where rain constantly drops,
and I know how
the beat drops,
the mic rocks,
and how rhymes can make time stop.
I held back
because the tone of my skin
has people guessing
wrong my ethnicity,
if you think I'm white,
you're not right,
and to be honest
that's not point.
Because I come from a place
where I was too nerd to be brown
and too chale be white
and too polite to be hanging out
with the gangsters
stealing cars
and shooting at other's backs,
and if you think
I'm talking about blacks
that's the problem,
assumption causes caution,
because not only were those
want-to-be thugs
of fairer skin,
my only friends
were much darker kin.
In the Marines,
we call ourselves green,
and you're either
dark green,
light green,
and there's no disillusion,
you disagree?
Shoot,
perhaps in the Army.
And yes,
the Navy too,
there's no turning back,
I'm no longer holding back,
what I'm saying is true.
The point of this piece
is to bring peace
to me,
that I was wrong
to hold back,
to withhold from the reader,
because how can I call myself
a poet
if I'm not painting a picture?
With your mind as the canvas,
and my words as the paint?
I watched poets come on stage,
deliver works of art,
things beautiful,
and I saw a beautiful, torn heart
put her hand up in the air
to an artist work,
like it was gospel in the church,
with thoughts on me! I saw,
but I held back,
and what I provided last time
was a finger painting
of child's skill.
I need to be real,
paint a real picture,
my motions and emotion
the finest paintbrush,
now fluttering about
all over your mind,
hopefully breathing to life
that I,
a man,
am more than some accusation,
of being mean heart.
Of being a relatable object,
supposedly,
to a poem so eloquently put
'he broke my heart,
and called it poetry'?
Get out with that
hand raised in the air
while another poet
spills out her pain,
and perhaps next time
I won't hold back,
paint a picture
of how her heartbreak
did become my poetry.
Yes, I'm being specific,
and context would make
for a much hotter piece,
but I'm over this,
over being scared,
I've conquered mountains
and crossed bridges.
Reader,
I respectfully submit,
give me another chance.
I won't hold back."
The moment she does bring,
The hot tea cup before me,
My heart melts like cheese,
I look at her so intensely.
She takes care of me,
As if I were her relative,
Extremely beholden I am,
Her concern is like a sacred sedative!
She has certainly been sent by Him,
For saving me from the ruin’s rim.
February.8.2003
Trisha Barrek Hopkins
Where to begin where to end
When to say when how to win
My love is all I want to send
To be with you
To hold your hand
To really know you is to know
To take a stand
To be a friend
To say hello good-bye good day goodnight
To tell the one you love
What a sight
To forgive after a fight
Finding bad news
Holding eachother while taking a snooze
Taking care of each others heart
Saying you love
Trying not to fall apart
Promising people won't shove
A perfect fit as tight as a glove
Missing each other
Kissing one another
Always tell the truth
No matter how scared you may be
If your love is true
You'll understand you'll see
I can't wait till that day you look up at me
While your on one knee
When I met you
My skies they turned blue
Baby you're the one for me
Don't ask how I just know
So please don't set me free
Copyright