Wounds are healed with time,
yet this time my wound is too
painful too heal; death came
too claim my father's soul~
Now sadness, confused tears,
and laments are heard
throughout my home; this year
and those too follow there will
be no Christmas in December~
No present, gift, nor condolence
will bring my father back too life;
God selfishly took him away....
no holy night, far from silent;
mother's cry awaken my
slumber~
Burning the pain into the night
does not contemplate the
feelings within; a dirty glass
brings stale memories....after
taste of death on my lips~
The night before you will find
me on one, maybe two binges
of a chemical romance, by the
seventh binge I will be satisfied
if my eyelids find rest~
Unhappy holidays without
decorative lights and a pine tree
to display....while most will be
merry, I will bury my father; for
you see there is no Christmas in
December anymore~
R.I.P {DAD}
08/19/1950- 12/11/2014
Soulkritic° copyright 2014
It was forty-three years ago today when I left your womb.
Your death has brought about tears, despair and gloom.
Usually pregnancies last nine months but you had a longer wait.
You carried me for ten months, I was a month late.
From the day I was born until the day you died, we shared a special bond.
You were always there for me and I'm still unhappy because you're gone.
You didn't deserve to suffer the way you did, what a horrible fate.
The doctors did all they could but you went to the hospital too late.
I didn't know what I had until I lost it and I lost you too soon.
It was forty-three years ago today when I left your womb.
LAMBING TIME
*
Lambing time: Is it
their
spring birth
or the time of slaughter
when their souls leave earth
*
-saiom shriver-
***
Whether it's cows, pigs, sheep, deer, dogs, cats, or any other mammals, birds, reptiles, fishes, insects or other... they are God created and holy creatures. Picture is of a feedlot where enslaved animals are held before their final sadistic journey.
when i was just an irresponsible fetus
One baby is born
Wailing at the top
Of his lungs.
Another whimpers,
And coos, as if to smile
Their way here.
Self-expression thrashing,
Or gently frolicking it's way
To life, along with our very breath.
There are the first
Inklings of vocalization,
A cry into the shadows.
Within weeks,
Light arrives for some,
And figures can be seen.
Caregivers of the baby
'Read' and interpret what they think are
The baby's needs, heart, desires.
Like poetry,
Sometimes the reading
Is misinterpreted.
Sometimes the reader
Places extra lines, words, phrases
From their own unfullfilled needs, heart, desires.
And sometimes the reader
And the writer can be falsely led
To think they understand each other.
Sometimes the reader
And the writer are falsely led
To think they misunderstand each other.
Sometimes, on rare occasion,
The reader reads because they have an inner love
For the beauty of self expression.
Like the newborn baby
That wails,
Or whimpers...or coos.
It is not the wailing or the whimpering,
Or even the cooing, but the beauty
Of human expression that touches them.
And sometimes, upon occasion,
The writer writes for the sole purpose
Of self expression.
And people read into it,
And see what it is
They need to see.
We are all wailing,
Whimpering babies,
Pretending to be adults, it seems.
How will you express yourself today?
How will you be understood?
Will you be understood?
Chances are,
You will not be understood,
Or at least, not completely.
Humanity, being
Connected through the heart,
But lost in words.
Verbalization,
The longest lie that has
Ever been told.
So poets, write your poems,
Cry your wailing sagas
Of horror and grief.
Coo your flowery words
Of love and forevermore,
Undying beauty that stirs your passion.
Remember yesterday,
Dream about tomorrow,
Cry and coo to the shadows in the dark.
Thrash and dance your way
Back to the heart, and express all you have
Been wanting to express.
....
♥
wake up precious beauty,
as you lie inside my hand,
drops of tender gentleness,
await you in this land,
♥
open eyes, sweet baby,
there is so much here to see,
we're trying hard each night and day,
to make a better place for thee.
♥
breathe in air my loved one,
taste the milk that will sustain,
this life is full of sunshine,
and it's also filled with rain.
♥
So as you feel each droplet,
know that love is leading the way,
kiss the sun each morning,
hope will shine bright on this day.
♥
.
WINGS OF LIBERTY!
Softly but gently surges my mind,
Into the un-riddled world of emotion;
Sets me gracefully with uncontrollable notion,
Afar, it drifts to my dreamy land of ecstasy!
Infancy made me quite sober and mild; though
I got groomed by, the compassionate hands of care!
Childhood swung me into the enviable wheel of motion,
And I could toddle around within my physical boundaries.
Boyhood gave me the unfurling freedom of thoughts,
But couldn’t ponder and fly into my infinite world of dreams;
Manhood provided me the wings of liberty that I could stretch; but
I just flew away breaking all moral shackles to reach unseen lands.
What I couldn’t experience in childhood and boyhood,
As a grown up man, I came to be aware of; but got spilled over.
A heavily laden life-package with quite a few likes but with too many dislikes;
What unfolds and emerges in mind after all this is; life’s last riddle of life after death!
..........
Like the love affair of the moon and the sun,
the stars and the earth...and then we awaken to our human birth,
feet on the ground, we walk in this dream,
grappling all for the question,
"what does this mean?"
something unseen,
to be pondered upon,
and apply to life's realities,
and bring in a new dawn.
1:07 pm 07/15/13 ©
inspired by dove
....................