4/10--for the 9th, and pain and perspective...be well people, be well.
30 days 30 ways
poetry came in 2nd
to real life.
Real strife
quarantine, mean machine
now no likes
We just
hard words and hard rocks,
sayin’ ill shit, ready to split
get heads knocked
No leggo toys livin’ here
we ain’t connectin’
refuse to listen,
get me pissed, and
now you missin’
No mama no drama
lawyer up like llamas
tight like fish pussy
when the pallet get to pushin’ comas--
Pause.
30 days of damn and doubt
bad times bad seconds no dreams
30 days of mask, with no seams
Threads are losers to mother goose,
get the noose for your neck
and dangle will your spine--
But Daddy’s here, have no fear
we all clear, like
Father Time
________________________________
Haiku
Forgive, forget, move
Makes no sense, three plus years past
Where would I even go
________________________________
Some days hurt,
worse than life’s hard hits;
harboring insecurities
at home like
inequalities above and
below,
Mason Dixon lines.
Life
written and scribbled
on lines; life-lines
seeking liberty
from liberated ideals
(...got the individual this far)
Not supposed to be, 40 plus
when history is
hung in the 90’s--
(blessings happen)
I am a man
My mind, My thoughts
My own--
can’t tell another,
how to feel.
Forged in the struggle
blade,
in the belly of family.
One night stand
spawned
as standing strong
rips at reality;
and standing single
is a possible future.
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