Separation

In loco parentis

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.

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i wasn't much of a brother when our children's home closed... or long before then..

my staying away from her and her family now, makes me the best brother ever...

but, it doesn't make it right

and nothing ever will...

sorry..

this is poetry, not psychotherapy, or drunks are us....

i reeeeeeeeaaaaaallllllly love you... go on, give us a kiss....

 

;-)

 

Prophetic Profits Line Political Pockets

Is it ironic that our prophets are marketed to profit the preacher's pocket?

 

It seems prophetic scripture is a profitable mixture of spirituality and social interaction; last time I stepped in a church, I envisioned cats goose steppin, their hands raised to acknowledge the Spirit but I'm wonderin if Der Führer is present.  Speaking of prophecy, these profits we chase will be the end of humanity - death creates a war economy where PMCs are commodities bought and sold to perpetuate global homogeny.  

 

New World Orders dictate a rise of profit, so our prophets are shifted to suit the pockets of those in suits and suites; our politicians accept legal bribery to sell us up river, our population swells and our problems become bigger.  We give in to fear and accept propaganda while we demand actions from those with hidden agendas.  Overseers out of officers above our written laws roam these streets looking more ravenous than their dogs.  As the blue line stretches from state to state, the state of the union dissolves; to state it simply, the Police State seems reminiscent of the Third Reich.  

 

RFIDs implanted as governments demand their chattel be branded; the mark of a beast we fed with our blood, best mark your numbered days of "freedom" as you chatter about your favorite programming.  Can it be coincidence entertainment on television is called programming?  Manufactured characters from sitcoms to newsrooms, distorted opinions layered like a cake with as much sugar coating, ensuring you will swallow the harsh medicine of reality crumbling.  

 

But never mind that, what color is this dress man?  And never mind THAT, douse yourself with this bucket of ice man.  From one scam to another, our attention is commanded - ironic that the only real deficit is attention.  If our attention had intention to shift our intended goals from profit to parables utter by prophets, imagine what our pockets would hold then.

 

Every day, if I open my eyes, I realize another layer of the real lies -- how we're compliant to the point of reliance on a system that simplifies human lives to assembly lines.  A culture that preys like vultures on the disenfranchised, selling lies to shallow minds encapsulated by fear; never did they mind the depth of the graves dug here.  For the truth it seems has been categorically smeared with distractions, millions booking face time to clear collective ADHD like ten second Tom.

 

One week, two weeks, three weeks, gone.  Attention deficit, human destruction imminent, and the cycle resets because we were too lazy kid.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

One of my pieces with a heavier amount of rhyme and rhythm.

Separation Of My Generation

I walk amongst a dying breed we're all in our teens.
We committing genocide behind these schools walls more kids died in a fight.
Than students that walk the stage on graduation night.
We're poison by the malignant potion that curses mankind for a long time.
And that's intolerance and difference leads to violence.
If you don't fit in you're constantly harass by the guys in your class.
Honestly that's very sad to see separation.
2014 segregation can someone save this generation.
I want the Grim reaper to reverse death and resurrect Martin Luther King Jr.
I want him to make us visualize a brighter future.
Instead of a lifestyle being feeble.
Maybe it's to late to save the day or we just made it in a nick of time.
To free many minds from the chain of evil.
Freeing my people treating every as equal.
Bringing in diversity in and out our vicinity.
No one should be a enemy.
Take a lesson from our demented history.
Years of misery now let's gently walk in peace bask in the victory of unity.
Reconstructing a community without spending a cent.
Reason why money is a component of the madness.
Seeing green make people do vindictive practices
Just to see cash coming in.
I want this to end because we all friends of life.

View montethepoet's Full Portfolio

I want to be your Ex-Man

Folder: 
Love

I want to be your ex-man because he had an opportunity to be with you. 

To spend time with you.  

To kiss you. 

To hug you. 

To look into those beautiful brown eyes to tell you he loves you. 

I want to be your ex-man because there was lonely nights you were home waiting for him and when he walked through that door your eyes lit up so bright. 

I want to be your ex-man because those times I wish were mine. 

I want to be your ex-man because he had an opportunity. 

Something you’re not willing to give me. 

Something you did not see in front of you as I stand. 

I want to be your ex-man because he was able to express his love to you.  

To hold you tight. 

To call you his forever in life. 

I want to be your ex-man because I want to know what it feels like to wake up and have you by my side. 

I want to be your ex-man because I know all the things he has done wrong.

I could do perfectly right. 

I want to be your ex-man because I want to hear you say “I love you. Baby without you I’m nothing. Baby together we can make it through.” 

I want to be your ex-man because for all the things you have gone through 

I know there was times you wished he would have hugged you and kissed you and said the right words. 

I wish I were your ex-man because if I was I would say the words you should hear. 

I would kiss you when the time is right. 

I would look at you and tell you I love you baby and that everything is going to be alright. 

I want to be your ex-man because you said yes to him the first time he asked you out. 

First time I asked you out I never was given a chance. 

So, baby let me be your man. 

Let me be your ex-man. 

Let me have just one dance. 

Here & Gone

Folder: 
Parenthood

 

 

Here & Gone

 

 

 

Overfull days, ring with "Shh!", "Don't!" and "Stop it!",

 

Forgetting that (despite the noise) you can't live without this,

 

Teeth clenched and searching for homework, bag and shoes,

 

Chuck them in the car and drive towards more time you lose,

 

 

 

Shouts, kicks and pinches..three times on the naughty step,

 

A blissful nights reprieve, then you miss them when they've left,

 

The tempo of a thousand days, drowning out the love,

 

You feel it never changes, but blink and then it does,

 

 

 

 

 

Fighting for the best..guilty it's not always you,

 

Despite the many big mistakes, they seem to battle through,

 

Sharing horror stories with the other folk they know,

 

reconfirms they're little angels every other place they go,

 

 

 

Occasionally painful love tears through the daily grind,

 

Look at who they soon won't be, try to pin it in your mind

 

"It goes so fast!", "You'll miss so much!" everyone will say,

 

Memories missed, care that's shared, REALLY tough some days,

 

 

 

Unexpectedly they flourish, all too often unlike you,

 

forgetting that there's only so much time for you to do,

 

They say "It takes a village" so you've built one for your child,

 

Still the taunts of "part-time parent" tend to gnaw their way inside,

 

 

 

"Sod you!" is what you really really need to start to think,

 

Everybody's armour has that nasty little chink,

 

Oh miracle of miracles, not broken boys or girls,

 

but smart and kind and ready for a big judgemental world

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

 

 

View rose.t.morrell's Full Portfolio

The Very Last Goodbye

Folder: 
Love Poems

no one was left to bar the way
so I said my last goodbye today
to every tear I've ever cried
and every heart that ever lied

though many words remain unspoken
and my heart has been often broken
the time has come to finally say
that last goodbye today

It is my very last goodbye
no more tears can I cry
as I left you there alone
moving into the unknown

I cannot take a chance anymore
this old heart is far too sore
So it is best I be on my way
lest I change my mind and stay

I give in to one last heartbreak
looking at you standing in my wake
remembering all that had gone before
and what will be again nevermore

It is my very last goodbye
no more tears can I cry
as I left you there alone
moving into the unknown

I see your eyes, I feel your pain
but I cannot risk to love again
So I close the door in the way
as I say my last goodbye today

With nothing left I could say
I watch the coming of the day
I realize love is just another word
without meaning yet often heard

*chorus to fade out

It is my very last goodbye
no more tears can I cry
as I left you there alone
moving into the unknown

It is my very last goodbye
no more tears can I cry
as I left you there alone
moving into the unknown

*in a whisper

Goodbye

2:54 AM 5/21/2003

Author's Notes/Comments: 

An oldie but I think a goodie.

View blackcat2's Full Portfolio

Survivors

Close your eyes
Can’t let them see
The fear that lies within
The pain that immobilizes
The anger at your loss
You’re theirs now
And you can’t give them the satisfaction
You won’t

Fight back
Don’t let them rule without a battle
Don’t allow them to take away what matters most
You’re a soldier
You’re a fighter
You are a force to be reckoned with
So show it
Be it
Do it

Steele yourself
It’ll be a long road yet
But you’ll make it
You’ll survive
We will be survivors

View seraphim's Full Portfolio

Now

Like a shiny demigod, you stand here before me with unconcerned eyes beaming down into the depths of all I am, but you’re blind and I can’t seem to find the will to help you-- I don’t care to. I’ll let you struggle and always think you know when even I can’t know. There’s a dynamic flow in everything and it’s everywhere, but still from somewhere a selfish, stagnant force fights for dictation, and gets stuck at ideation. We get stuck at identification and separate you from me. We’re isolating and decimating, contemplating and waiting for some external action to save us.
Failing to see the unity, schisms fracture Love and disrupt Peace. Quakes of arrogant desire believe their imagined lies to confine their own lives strict within the cage of fearful ignorance, securing us in sensation and fenced in selective cohesion. Reason is a thing oft in neglect, associated with only the intellect, a mere man, amassing “facts.” Think about your knowledge and realize it’s aged, already stale (naturally technique and recipe remain). We can’t know NOW, and therefore can’t measure it. With no labels, now is new, infinitely unknown… This is now. This is all there is and all I am, but not me. There is no will, therefore no actor. There is no I… There is this moment….and here, accordance with the harmony of reality occurs. “I” don’t love. Here, there is Love, Peace, and Freedom, the lack of all self. Nothing is here, but here is everything.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

No comment

segmentation

we fall with a new gain
we up with a new game
A bird, to find her aisle
with tears in her eyes
her clash make her learn
for those tears of her big eyes
her collision to mountains
make her learn
for those tears of unite

our life is a mystery
like we never understand newton's history
his laws, his discoveries
just walk through out limit of mind competency
somewhere life is like enigma
but i never understand enigma

our division
meet with everyone
somewhere end with everyone
we starting with one point
we'll run at every trace
we'll work like a best cop

at the end
i hope everyone will rock at the stage of life
our division will end the side of our
but won't leave the affection of our for each other
our race just going to start
so won't fall in the ground of path

we fall with a new gain
we up with a new game

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i wrote this poem for my friends

View alkaharuno's Full Portfolio