Submissions by notebook_always
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
ANGER POEM
Published
15th Nov 2016 7:54pm
15th Nov 2016 7:54pm
Lightening
There is a secret world that hides inside the tangible and it just busted through the divide between left and right to widen it and flip the world upside down.
Every day is like watching WWII in HD from inside the TV,
standing in front of a tank in nothing but bare feet.
A dictator chosen for me by a bought and paid for cash only "democratically elected" representative hides his vampire teeth behind a flag pinned to the lapel of his white mans armor that guars a purple heart earned by shrapnel burried in someone else.
For the rest of us left on the to witness...
Every day is like watching WWII in HD from inside the TV,
standing in front of a tank in nothing but bare feet.
A dictator chosen for me by a bought and paid for cash only "democratically elected" representative hides his vampire teeth behind a flag pinned to the lapel of his white mans armor that guars a purple heart earned by shrapnel burried in someone else.
For the rest of us left on the to witness...
598 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
15th Sep 2016 3:22am
15th Sep 2016 3:22am
Destination: what comes next
I live in a room where the walls are impenetrable, but see through.
The view is breath taking, but in the way that takes your breath away because air is a commodity and breathing is something that belongs only to those born to win.
This suffocation is pennance for an unnamed crime, we serve birth till death inside this box.
This sentence is a journey without a single step to convince ourselves that the monsters under the bed are tests sent by a man we hope lives in the sky.
If you ask most people and they actually tell you the truth, you'll find that for them, life is hoping...
The view is breath taking, but in the way that takes your breath away because air is a commodity and breathing is something that belongs only to those born to win.
This suffocation is pennance for an unnamed crime, we serve birth till death inside this box.
This sentence is a journey without a single step to convince ourselves that the monsters under the bed are tests sent by a man we hope lives in the sky.
If you ask most people and they actually tell you the truth, you'll find that for them, life is hoping...
536 reads
3 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
1st Sep 2016 00:53am
1st Sep 2016 00:53am
Chess
We live in a world that equates stasis with peace.
Living in hatred, it's easier to believe it'll all be ok when we package the pill this way.
Then we create more humans, more tiny game pieces to hold up as we fight tooth and nail for their right to life as an unorganized bundle of cells, but we do nothing once they get older but lock them in cells, nothing to improve the environment we require them to live in.
Nurse them on ridicule and judgment.
Keep them guessing, never teach them the rules.
They're crib mates with with unattainable constructs so long their absence...
Living in hatred, it's easier to believe it'll all be ok when we package the pill this way.
Then we create more humans, more tiny game pieces to hold up as we fight tooth and nail for their right to life as an unorganized bundle of cells, but we do nothing once they get older but lock them in cells, nothing to improve the environment we require them to live in.
Nurse them on ridicule and judgment.
Keep them guessing, never teach them the rules.
They're crib mates with with unattainable constructs so long their absence...
706 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
20th Aug 2016 3:43am
20th Aug 2016 3:43am
#28 bus
I roll out of my bed with the warmth of my sons tiny hand radiating from my aching back all the to his wide open heart.
I grab my work bag and throw two bus tokens in my pocket.
The walk, it's not too long, but I try to hold my breath as the fumes rising from the street threaten to bleach my lungs and invite my inevitable fight with cancer to take a few steps closer.
I get on bus 28 even as my legs ache to trace a retreat back home to my son, but I travel on.
The ride to where I'm going is only slightly longer than the speech echoing in my head phones by a man blown...
I grab my work bag and throw two bus tokens in my pocket.
The walk, it's not too long, but I try to hold my breath as the fumes rising from the street threaten to bleach my lungs and invite my inevitable fight with cancer to take a few steps closer.
I get on bus 28 even as my legs ache to trace a retreat back home to my son, but I travel on.
The ride to where I'm going is only slightly longer than the speech echoing in my head phones by a man blown...
751 reads
1 Comment
STORY POEM
Published
9th Aug 2016 5:02am
9th Aug 2016 5:02am
A Worthy Adversary
He has the kind of shuffling step that says he's tried to leave his ghosts a million miles behind him, but they are always waiting just around the bend.
He stopped in front of a well done baked to a crisp in the sun garbage can, put his hand in..slowly...like he was pretty sure certain death lay in its depths, but a tiny chance to survive shimmers so he has to try.
Fortune smiled on him, if you could call it that, by way of an almost full Starbucks cup.
He swirled the tan liquid dubiously and smacked his lips.
The sweat that dripped down his face screamed at him to takena...
He stopped in front of a well done baked to a crisp in the sun garbage can, put his hand in..slowly...like he was pretty sure certain death lay in its depths, but a tiny chance to survive shimmers so he has to try.
Fortune smiled on him, if you could call it that, by way of an almost full Starbucks cup.
He swirled the tan liquid dubiously and smacked his lips.
The sweat that dripped down his face screamed at him to takena...
850 reads
9 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
4th Aug 2016 9:22pm
4th Aug 2016 9:22pm
Mary's Pain
My little 27 pound blue eyed blonde atomic bomb worth of energy nearly 4 year old asked me, "Mom, why can't I have a toy gun?"
Because guns are not toys. Guns are not safe.
"But I just want to play bad guys," insert puss n boots eyes.
I know, but sometimes people make mistakes and think that good guys playing bad guys ARE bad guys.
"No they won't. They'll know I'm just a kid."
So much innocence...I looked at him. I REALLY looked at him and saw the truth in what he said.
He is the Aryan wet dream.
Every buried SS Deathshead signet...
Because guns are not toys. Guns are not safe.
"But I just want to play bad guys," insert puss n boots eyes.
I know, but sometimes people make mistakes and think that good guys playing bad guys ARE bad guys.
"No they won't. They'll know I'm just a kid."
So much innocence...I looked at him. I REALLY looked at him and saw the truth in what he said.
He is the Aryan wet dream.
Every buried SS Deathshead signet...
673 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Jun 2016 9:35pm
19th Jun 2016 9:35pm
Orlando
The candles from the vigil fill the summer air with a soft glow and the smell of hundreds of sweaty humans trying to make sense of it all, but our voices are small and we can only make tears.
Grief openly contorts our features but fear is what hums in the backs of our minds as cares drive by, some with compassion, some with hate inside.
It's strange that the click of a trigger echoing across mountain ranges and rivers can send shivers down my spine and shove my own mortality in my face from so far away.
Yet, mother culture has molded me to edge closer to the police officer sent...
Grief openly contorts our features but fear is what hums in the backs of our minds as cares drive by, some with compassion, some with hate inside.
It's strange that the click of a trigger echoing across mountain ranges and rivers can send shivers down my spine and shove my own mortality in my face from so far away.
Yet, mother culture has molded me to edge closer to the police officer sent...
575 reads
2 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Jun 2016 9:28pm
19th Jun 2016 9:28pm
Inevitable
Inevitable
To my son.
My life has taken on the flavor of inevitability, but never resignation.
Never resignation to the inevitable bigotry, inevitable eyes that see me, but desire to understand nothing, the inevitability of smelling hate bleed into the air because I'm in the wrong place at the right time to receive a little redneck justice for the sole crime of being a woman that is in love with a woman.
I fear none of these things.
What I fear is a question. I fear this singular question asked in ignorance or innocence, curiosity or reflection. Veiled in sarcasm or...
To my son.
My life has taken on the flavor of inevitability, but never resignation.
Never resignation to the inevitable bigotry, inevitable eyes that see me, but desire to understand nothing, the inevitability of smelling hate bleed into the air because I'm in the wrong place at the right time to receive a little redneck justice for the sole crime of being a woman that is in love with a woman.
I fear none of these things.
What I fear is a question. I fear this singular question asked in ignorance or innocence, curiosity or reflection. Veiled in sarcasm or...
547 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by notebook_always
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