Poetry competition CLOSED 17th July 2019 2:32pm
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poet Anonymous

You Cannot Kill Me

Accepting the raw reality of
this walk into the depths
of hell has been shaky
and unstable; as a bow and
quiver in the
hands of a novice.

Unsure of what way to take
aim, questioned at every turn—
I attempt to throw off the
weight of others’ opinions.

To travel a road, dark and
haunting; finding that I am only
halfway through the gnarled grove,
thick with pain and uncertainty.

Coming to grips with the loss
of my sacred femininity.

Looking for a light in the darkness.

I will emerge a warrior; valiant
in battle and victorious in the
pursuit of a new life— one that is
different, yet familiar.

I will take aim, pull the string back
and shoot straight.

A sister of hope.
A beacon of light—

A survivor.


poet Anonymous

Culinary School Lessons for Life

Sweet Sixteen in 1994, what a cosmic joke
I was a girl in worlds that hated my existence
Especially two white-pride boys, top of school society
We all went to school together, then vo-tech
I was far more intelligent, strike one for me
A girl who didn’t fall for their charm, strike two
Semitic in a world of Aryans, strike three
The first two strikes were easily evaded
But the last one nearly cost me my life twice
 
Sixteen and studying to be a chef
Girl in a man’s world, already despised
Bad enough I saw them in academics
We shared bus rides and a long hall-walk
Taunting me as I walked ahead, unable to run
My pride and school rules forbade it.
 
“Jew, Jew, look at you, dirty Jew
One day we are going to do to you
What Hilter didn’t get a chance to.”  
Troy Sigfried and Steve Bauer followed me
Every day, five days a week, except for holidays
Off the bus, down the long hall, straight to my class
 
They in Metallica tees, shades and ripped jeans
Combat boots, bandanas and Dixie flags
Blond hair, black hair, blue eyes filled with hate
Strolling not a care in the word behind me
I was dressed in chef’s black’n whites
Dark curls hidden under a baker’s hat
Boots on my feet, no make up, stoic
With these two Neo-Nazis so close
My chef instructor at the door, hearing every word.  
 
Three weeks I suffered, Monday thru Friday
21 days my chef, the one I was supposed to trust
Listened and scolded but did nothing more
“Goldstein, I hear them, but my hands are tied.”
In 1994 this was not considered a hate crime
Boys just being boys, just ignore the little shits
 
 
On the 22nd day, a Monday, they got too close
That Monday, I could feel their breath on my neck
“Dirty Jew, watch out we’re coming for you..
You BITCH, stupid Jewish whore-bitch, you broke my nose!”
 
I was barely four inches over five feet barefoot
But I always punched above my weight
Steve got too close, so my fist smashed into his face
As I got ready to swing again, my chef yelled
“Goldstein, you’re suspended! Bauer, to the nurse!”  
 
I looked up at my chef, this man I’d been taught to trust
He was to be my chef for three years, day in and out
My heart dropped, chills ran down my spine as I realized
He was tall, he had blue eyes, he was German, too.  
 
I got suspended for a week, Bauer had to apologize  
The minute it was over, he glared at me, smirking
“Jew, you’ve only made it worse for yourself.”  
How true his words were, my life nightmarish
Pennies thrown at me daily to start Jewish parades
They tried to push me off moving school buses
Jews weren’t allowed on the bus, they all said
Swastikas in my driveway, mailbox run over
Demonstrating they could do whatever they liked
Every school day they followed me the rest of the year
Their words in cadence with my defiant footsteps
 
I fought them violently every chance I could get
But never in front of my chef, I needed to impress him
He was my ticket to my dream of becoming a chef
I had to prove women were men’s equal in the kitchen
Three years he taught me, never spoke about that day  
 
In the end, I graduated, working for a high class chef
Only three students had such coveted positions
I was also accepted to culinary school, to start in fall
“Goldstein,you did good. I’m proud of you and I’m sorry.”  
Two years too late, my trust never quite as complete
 
In cooking school, I learned two important lessons
Beyond how to measure, saute, braise and stew
One: I had to fight twice as hard for a solitary chance
Two: no one would ever take care of me..except me.
poet Anonymous

In Shades of Noir

 

It’s where we found our love in shades of noir;
The trips, the nights, the early morning rise.
A destiny beneath the shooting star,
That showed the way, its light that never dies.

We shared our growing want in poems spent;
It’s where we found our love in shades of noir.
Fulfilling touch, each other’s spill would vent,
In lieu of gearshift rides in speeding cars.

Before the dawn at Starbuck’s coffee bar,
A lover with a stubble slumps to pen.
It’s where we found our love in shades of noir,
By laptop’s glow like film but with a yen.

The passion goes beyond a curtain call,
Of sultry negligee and silk boudoir.
Her Bogie bows and bends his satin doll;
It’s where we found our love in shades of noir.
poet Anonymous

An Unnecessary Rebellion

The perfect childhood was one that I lived
Were the love given was never taken away
Even though my years of rebellion
Where I hurt my parent's sensibilities
When I bucked the trend of normality
I was smoking pot and drinking beer
Sex became usury, the more easy I got
Didn't know if I was straight Bi or queer
Experimentation became a necessary evil
I rejected their god, the bible and church
My prison style tattoos done for shock value
Never been to prison though picked up from jail
An underage DUI laid bare on my jacket
Boyfriends came and went girl friends many
It was like I was courting their displeasure
Yet through it all, there were no raised voices
No domestic abuse, dad was not built this way
Mom, forever the optimist, shit happens
Children of the sixties, love and flowers
This hippie-trippy romance was perfection
Their love for each other like a house on fire
Their love could not be put out or extinguished
I question my years of rebellion
What was I really railing against
They showed me nothing but love
Every day they told me they loved me
Their actions spoke louder than words
I grew up to rebel against loving,
Loyalty, parents who refused to walk away
For Texas parent violence is normality
They never lifted their hands in anger
The perfect family, the perfect parents
Took me time for the realization to kick in
My rebellion was one of my own making
It was personal and purely internal
Peer pressure from abused teens
Real and many drama queens
Sobered I could see through it
And when the mist cleared, my head fog
Was gone they were still there loving me
I now understand I see them as they are
Still living and loving like teenagers
They are so sweet together, so cute
My hippy-dippy parents with a love absolute
TRhis is a tribute to my mom and dad
The best parents I could have had
I love you both
poet Anonymous

A SILHOUETTE OF LIES

They say each day is a journey and travel through life's many ups and downs but none affect you more than a broken heart and a worn out soul that has been abandonment, and left to wonder and ponder through there silent inner thoughts that screams from deep within there mind as it echoes through the stairways and chambers of what now has become a lost soul.                    
                                                                                                                                      
                                                                                                                                       For we all are looking and seeking and searching for just that one soul to love us as we are in skin flesh and blood for neither one of us are perfect for we all have imperfections and flaws, but yet at times we think that we have found that type of love only to be betrayed and lied too and abused by the very hands and words we trusted, not knowing that what we see is merely an illusion hiding behind a mask as it with time shall surely be revealed to the naked eye.                                                                                                        
                                                                                                                                  
                                                                                                                                  
For through this cycle of life we will encounter individuals that will seduce your mind and take total control over your life and have you in a place you thought, that you would never in a million years be in a situation of this nature as they will have you questioning your own sanity of your own mind till your heart is no longer yours to own.                                                          
                                                                                                                                  
                                                                                                                                  For now it has become their own mind game and play toy to do with as they wish all because you gave them the key to your heart and mind and spiritual soul, but yet all the signs were there for you to see but you closed your eyes and ignore that deep gut feeling in your soul and till you stop thinking with your mind, and let your heart take full control of the perspective of the true dreams that your life truly holds in the palms of your own hands and mind.
poet Anonymous

Crazy Night

I had a nightmare last night.
I got into a fight over a bet and...
I stabbed my best friend Ben.
I quickly ran into my car and drove off.
I was driving so fast out of fear,
I hit a pregnant woman crossing the road.
I heard her loud screams but...
I didn't wait.
I only drove faster.
I eventually stopped to catch my breath.
I then picked up a random girl on the road.
I ended up in her place and we made love.
"Ouch" My head hurts so bad,
What a messed up dream.
Thank God am awake.
Wait?!... where is this place?...
Why is there blood on my shirt?!...
Shit! The random girl from my dream just walked in.
Was my nightmare....
Real?
Did I have too many bottles last night?
Or am I still dreaming?...
Oh God,
Someone, anyone...
Please wake me up.
poet Anonymous

The Ambivalent Mother

And they became
who they were;
manifestations of the Creator,
tiny vessels of His presence
cultivated inside me,
within me,
conceived in my womb;
the fruits of me
nourished by
the fruit of me
before life
beyond my being
would become
their own

And they were
who they had become;
myself…my selves
fractions of me,
addends of we,
divided into wholes
mirroring
multiples
of yester’s day,
today, and
tomorrow;
reflecting
who I was,
who I am,
and who
I have yet
to be

And they became
who they
had become;
life as
it was meant
as it is,
as it will be
And though the
flesh of my flesh
abides in me
no more,
the subsistence
of my existence
exists only
with every breath
they take

And now they are
who they will always be:
the greatest loves
of my life,
the greatest adversaries
of my sanity
my constant prayers,
my constant worries,
the parts of myself I hate
to let down,
the parts of myself
who elevate me highest
They are my life
and my love for them
will be the death of me,
but, without them
I could not live
poet Anonymous

Changes

As I passed you by today
I looked at you
expecting a smile
you turned away
did not wave, nor say
hello or goodbye
as you usually do

I walked on silently
while you looked the other way
when I looked back
you were staring at me
with dislike in your eyes
they pierced me
like a thousand knives

I don’t know why
you turned away
I don’t know what
made you change so fast
I don’t know where
you got that stare
of ‘I don’t really care’

I don’t know when
I will know why
you don’t want
to be my friend
or how I can ever
touch your heart
again

I only know
I never stopped
loving you
as a friend
a confidante
a messenger or lover
I love you still…
poet Anonymous

Risen From A Hunger

For in a time, when everywhere,
the child I was took comfort in
the dangers stalking, hunting us,
my kind, at every turn it chose.
Was where I found a solace in
the tribal rites, lord of the flies,
as bitter herbs I passive ate
because my hunger was so great.

Picked for my lack of size and years,
the tirade with the herbs which had
beleaguered spirit, start to trust
the pain one day would turn the tide.
Approval from humiliate
increase in skill & strength & size
to show the path on which I’d walk.
In this awakening, I felt
the apex sun upon my face,
and joy within my beating heart.
Uplifted from the quiet tone
of sorrow I had always known,
as being one, and of the same.

It started then as I began
to know the entity of love,
whose voice’s lift spoke to my mind.
Within my very soul was God,
whose teachings opened me to pray
as self is opened like a seed.
As it would grow then split again,
while spilling forth more joy until
I realized was not the same,
it was the answer to a prayer.




#KahlilGibran

NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019

My interpretation is also based on the harsh realities of my early youth, before and up to the realization of my spirituality and faith.

.
poet Anonymous

Nurtured By Sorrows in Childhood

“Nurtured by sorrows in childhood”
…what the hell does that even mean?

I thought it, I wrote it.
I lived it, I remember it…

A child in darkness puts hell in ovation…
but where was my heaven?

I swear I was touched once then…
by an angel, I think.

I’m not sure, for its face was blackened
in the dimmed basement.

Cold, wet cement walls echoed whining.
Please… please why can’t it be a dream?

My angel, my protector and my hero
you should have been.

Your touch felt kind, caring and trustworthy…
but that face!

Oh, that face of yours chained me to the darkened corner
squeezing the childhood out of my broken body!

I grew up too fast in childhood.
I’d love to have it all back now.

One steals… what another’s lost;
your thieving smothered the light in my soul.

Nearly every day, I cross my arms over my chest
in the comforting hold of the only one who knows, who understands.

I hug me…
the bad won’t drain from this fragile being.

It has cemented itself to every corner of my body and mind.
I will never be free again.

Now and again, I think of that basement,
only to relive the horror.
poet Anonymous

Making a Change

Something within my heart led me
Towards you and you embraced all
Of me as the fractured pieces were
Finally beginning to come together.
 
As I set sail something in the sea’s
Waves and tides changed. The wall
Fell. A different direction spurred
Me forward toward a new weather
 
Pattern that began to emerge. I was
Leaving behind fog, heartbreak and
Grey skies. Up ahead was sunshine.
I outdistanced the old me by miles
 
And miles. It was simply because
I never had the courage to stand
There, unable to draw a new line.
I had the same old and fake smiles
 
Day after day, but you must have
Seen something in me because you
Told me to say yes to the change in
In my heart even as it led me down
 
Another path, creating utter havoc
Along the highway. It might be too
Tricky someday, but under my skin
My soul is telling me to leave town
 
And one of the biggest changes of
All is finding another place to love.
poet Anonymous

XII: The Hanged Man (Tarot Series)

At twenty-three    
I had a nervous breakdown    
and I'm still not sure      
what the fuck happened.      
     
I remember walking barefoot,      
I remember car headlights      
I even remember the horns      
upon my Father's head      
     
I can still envisage      
the shrinking walls, my mother      
on the phone to the doctor      
tapping her left foot against      
the telephone table.      
     
They prescribe you things      
you genuinely can't pronounce,      
make you fill out strange forms      
that ask you if you've thought      
of suicide in the past week      
     
and you lie and say no      
because you still retain      
some fucking dignity      
even though it's been there      
every day, every hour      
every waking moment.      
     
During therapy you tell them      
that you ran, and didn't go home      
you tell them of sleeping      
under the iron bridge,      
you tell them about "that man"      
you show them his burn marks      
and scars up and down your body      
     
you show them where      
the claw-hammer went in      
     
they jot down illegible scribbles      
about your fear of going outside,      
and how your world has gone      
down the proverbial shitter      
     
and they look at you,
they fucking look at you      
like you're a pot plant      
or a ceramic jug      
incapable of response      
     
and somewhere      
in what's left of      
the rotting carcass      
of your bones      
     
you remember him  
     
you remember his weight      
grinding your soul to dust,      
you remember the way your name      
left his lips like crushed chalk      
you remember him,      
you remember it all      
     
as you clutch yourself;      
an empty chalice      
before the hanged man      
and the deadpan woman      
     
making strange notes      
on your death.  
     
 
poet Anonymous

Reflections of a Civil War

I didn’t know about politics or the status quo,
I didn’t understand the right versus the left,
All I knew were images shown on the news
Until the war hit close to home

I had never seen so many burning buses
I had never seen so many men somber
I had never seen so many women crying
I had never seen so much blood like that

I had never heard bullets whiz by like that
I had never felt tanks roll by the boulevard
Shaking the streets and passageways
And deafening blasts that stun the soul

I had never seen men on the streets like that
Brains splattered on the pavement
Entrails displayed for all to see
I had never seen eyes like that

But when you’re only eight years old
The world is difficult to understand
For there is no simple explanation
When innocence slips away just like that
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