(Spoken Word Poetry)


You laid sand upon you dearly departed

An affliction struck you and left you half-hearted

You begged it to be over, but oh no, it had just started

Did you reckon it’s over just because they’ve parted?

No, this emptiness will go on and the burden shall grow

A salient ailment for you alone

As he tries to remand and tries to atone

To pick up the phone and call his friends

But the call never connects, the caller never sends

A message, he relishes to stay in his own depravity

Locked in the confines of his sanctity

Asking himself “why this was done to me”

The darkness of his mind becoming his enemy

As the voices bubble and gather so loud

Mocking and judging in every sound

“Just stay away”, you act out

To those who approach, to those who try

To care in your despair, then why

Are your hopes not renewed?

For I deduce this ruse you used

Is an excuse you produced to confuse

Those that care, to continue in your abuse

Of yourself, to poison your mind

And retreat into a person they wouldn’t find-

-In Any semblance of the man they once beloved

Now consumed in rage, a being corrupt

A façade of bravado you raised to abrupt

And halt the advancement of any aid

For you have no need nor want to be saved

You know whats at heart and why you are depraved

Of the softness of love and the tenderness of touch

The warmth of kindness and all that such

You once held dear is now smeared into dust

Whilst you question your place and existence in life

Counting the weights of your virtues and vice

And glaring at your hands in spite

For they failed you once, but will they fail you twice?

Weighing the outcomes in grief and scorn

Pain and sadness are all you’ve known

Surely this life means something more?




Picture credit to owner

Bliss Upon My Lover

Bliss Upon My Lover

The child of my body, asleep in my arms
I rock and spin him, perfectly graced
Then settle him down in his new cradle
And cuddle him warmth in the night, embraced


I whisk my pride from atop the sofa
And carry him down the hall, to bed
He tugs my beard as I lay him down
Tucked and tired, I kiss his head


I displace my lover up, from table to rest
Lowered down, the coffin sways
I weep upon the mound of dirt
And pray for them my life away

Solace In Hunger

Solace in Hunger

I starve myself of food, wants and desires
And clothe myself in this modest attire

To reignite my lost, compassionate soul within
And replace the greedy heart therein

These pangs echo in rhythmic drum-beats
The trickery of the mind to nag a cheat

As time goes by I discipline my thoughts
To relive that which I had forgot

The beggar’s hunger and the farmer’s thirst
Of the panic within that goes unversed

The sweat of plough, in every bread
Of every heave and drop they shed

The barren, beaten hands that bathe in rain
Of the noble pursuits that wash in vain

Those poor eyes that cherish an earnings wage
Versus my ownings, that I negate

A glistening humility this practice brings
To ground my extravagant, selfish whims

With empathy and love in people, regained
I find solace in hunger, again

I’m Sorry- I Don’t Understand (prt 4 of 12)

This Particular Series Contains Content That Some Could Find Troubling
Chapter 1 : The Perfect Family
Chapter 2 : It’s Not Right
Chapter 3 : No, You’re Wrong

Chapter 4 : Where The Bad Goes

I was pinching my fingernails, I was scared. It didn’t take long for the mothers to hear Margret’s crying, and they rushed into a room with her holding her head and sobbing, while the three of us looked on. Elena was trying to hide behind me from Mother, who looked composed, but we knew what was to follow.

“What happened dear?” Margret’s mother asked.
“I fell.”
“What? Oh dear, what nonsense!”
This was going to get all of us in trouble if I didn’t speak up. So, I took a step forward, shook Elena off my arm and announced to the mothers, “I pushed her, and I’m sorry.” Continue reading “I’m Sorry- I Don’t Understand (prt 4 of 12)”

I’m Sorry – I Don’t Understand (Prt3 of 12)

This Particular Story Series Has Content That Some Might Find Troubling

Chapter 1 : The Perfect Family

Chapter 2 : It’s Not Right

Chapter 3 : No, You’re Wrong

Chapter 3:

“Hungry and sick…. It’s not right.” Margret sobbed out.

Chelsea, Elena, and I were shocked by how disrespectful she was being. We just ate sandwiches and played with a laser pointer that our parents gave us, and here is Margret trying to act rude because Andy is feeling sick.

“It hurts him, he says, when he’s like this. But they don’t help him.” Continue reading “I’m Sorry – I Don’t Understand (Prt3 of 12)”

I’m Sorry- I Don’t Understand (prt 2 of 12)


Chapter 1: The Perfect Family

Chapter 2: It’s Not Right

He taught me about the stars and how the waves move in the ocean, he taught me about flavor and how sound moves through the air, he taught me about the life of a bee and that of a frog and told me the rules of decency, politeness, and safety.

“What do you do if you see a hurt bird outside?”
“I bring it in so that we can make it better.” “Correct.”
“ What do you do if someone calls home or comes to visit?”
“I fetch you or Mother to help them.” “Very good.”
“What do you do if someone asks you something you don’t understand?”
“I say: I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.” Continue reading “I’m Sorry- I Don’t Understand (prt 2 of 12)”


This Particular Story Series May Include Content That Some Might Find Troubling


I had managed to hurt myself last night in the room, a few cuts going across my wrist halfway down my arm, some deep, some not, some hurt, some didn’t, some burnt, some didn’t, some grew hard and stiff on the inside and the others were still a bit gooey. Father was very understanding and nice. He consoled me and told me that I going to be all right and even attended to my wounds, using his cream on them and wrapping them around in bandage cloth. He told me that my arm would be as good as new by the end of the week, which made me very happy, because this one was starting to hurt me. Father told me that I shouldn’t worry about the way I hurt myself and to forget about it. He told me it’s not right for good little nine-year-old girls to think about such stuff. Never bad, always good. Mother always taught me that. Continue reading “I’M SORRY- I DON’T UNDERSTAND (pt 1 of 12)”


The more I think
The more you dream
The more these ambitions
Seem less to be

Relentless they accused
Relentless we denied
The truth of the matter
Lay buried behind

Sinless he steals
And sinless she swindles
As the weight of sin
Does slowly dwindle

Adoption of anguish
Adoption of deceit
The structures of justice
Fall victims to conceit

Hollow they prayed
And hollow they forgave
To the unhindered kings
And shallowest of knaves

In the most muted of nights
In the most muted of hearts
These saints of misdeeds
Do vice impart

Waging war on the body of mind
Waging war on the foundation of ideals
We cheer not these barbaric acts
Our arms drop dead and heads kneel

My Heart and Soul in hope, unite
My Heart and Soul in doubt, segment
Two polar intuitions, in a vessel, bound
Only one, of which, was ever present

(picture credit to owner)

A Candle’s Worth

A Candle’s Worth

A King lay sleeping in his kingdom fair
He awakens late in his castle spire
And jumps off his mattress lush
Walking about in a silken attire

Peeking out the window, glancing around
He saw none of the majesty assumed
Contrary to the vision of gleaming sights
Lay a town beneath in dark consumed

If all houses can’t bear a candlelight,
Then what is the point of gold this much?
His depressed mind inquired his heart
For what is the worth of a kingdom such?

An old beggar awoke on the kingdom floor
His mouth ran dry from frosty nights
As a little boy threw him corn
Staring at him through a lantern’s light

Diminished clothes on the beggar’s back
Nothing worth a second look
Cold on the street, scurrying around
Less he was, the more he took

A little dull man in a glimmering town
His repute was none, his worth mere
He stood pounding his head in rock
For what is the worth of a beggar here?

A bright kingdom engulfed in dark
Where a candle’s warmth had contrasting worth
Perceptive desire brought about by a value
Inherited and ordained, decreed at birth

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