Poem: Free Verse – “A Congested Mind” #poetry #amwriting 


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——–

They call it the unknown

The future lying before you. 

No matter if you’re psychic, 

No one knows what happens. 

There are varied scenarios,

Ways it could play out, 

But truly we don’t know the future

It’s a mystery creeping forward, 

And it pulls us along on our knees.

Whether we go willingly, 

Or go kicking and screaming;

Time marches in to the beat,

Of father time’s own drum. 

****

I don’t know what’s coming, 

I know worrying won’t help. 

I think sometimes I try to give advice, 

Reassuring myself in kind. 

There are bright possibilities, 

Hoping people become, 

More kind than they are mean to each other. 

Pray people look-out for each other, 

But sometimes I think society is self-centred. 

I admit to such fault and others too,

But I’m still fearful;

When I think of a year or two ahead, 

I’m afraid what if it’s not the right plan? 

Experience deftly taught me,

Plans are dim outlines of reality. 

Mostly, life goes where it goes

And God only knows where or why. 

Leading us through dark valleys, 

Into trenches with piercing bullets flying. 

Into classrooms with screaming kids, 

A gunmen on the loose. 

He leads us through to people, 

Whose power makes one nervous. 

How even democracy isn’t safe —

A tyrant could rule all. 

Maybe the world will surprise me, 

But I fear for the little person. 

*****

My own personal fears weigh heavy, 

Though others bear pains greater. 

Of lawyers and cases, 

Of corruption and crime. 

Those crimes we deem terrible;

Those crimes brushed under the rug. 

Greed and all those other sins,

Abhorred but freely ignored. 

Though I can never say what’s worse —

My own flaws or imperfections

Or those I’m faced with. 

Stress shows through cracks, 

Egg yokes running. 

No one likes raw eggs except in cookie dough

The future is overwhelming. 

But at least they’ll still be cookie dough, 

And I don’t know why —

I’m particular and observant

Why I know it’s better to be alone

Than be truly alone with another. 

Why I wait for that spark

Why I wait for the morning dawn. 

A smile in his eyes which is genuine

Wherever he is. 

But maybe happiness is a puppy

Paws following me on the hardwood, 

Barks at random sounds. 

The glory of a puppy skidding down —

The off leash trail and wheeling;

Turning around to jump on me, 

To pick her up when she’s tired. 

*****

My bones are stiff and ridged

My dreams fall to despair

So many books and writers, 

And not anyone can compare

How to rise above the masses, 

Or fill your own niche contented. 

But perhaps one could be something

Success in small moments. 
Afraid and weighted

Need to cry, tears unshed, 

Because disease is cruel. 
Even if Heaven is the end of the tunnel,

So many words are left unsaid

The timing of it all, does it work? 

I feel alienated

Though I try hard to keep the connection

It’s all in your planning Lord;

So must I say, your will be done.

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “Self-Healing and Caustic” #amwriting #poetry 


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——–

The darkness conceals, filthy misdeeds. 
Hidden weapons, malovelence.

Daggers hidden in tips of boots,

Removed from suit coats, in suit linings revealed, 

To silence my heart, and I think it’s the end.

But my heart keeps beating, a hard steady beat;

I hear it alone, only in my ears because everywhere else —

There’s dead silence; but in the silence, 

My heart is a drum, banging out the beats of life and renewal, 

The thump thump, the tempo which will not end.

You’re too generous to stab me in the back,

So it must be in my chest, through the organ which loved you. 

Now my blood spills, but my heart keeps up a ‘Lub-dub,’ 

Waiting for a death which never arrives. 

There is only the sound of my blood pooling in silence.

Yet, I’m only pained by the horrific sound of nothing, 

My heart is strong and I struggle through,

Only to find I have not what most call life’s blood. 

My veins weep venom, for I run on poison — not blood.

And the vitral having leaked into ventricles, 

Pumps throughout my body, 

My own sickly blood healing me and —

Killing my lost love, a murder; 

All those exposed, the blood is poison for.

I’m overcome by sadness as I’m lying here, 

Heart beating, but I should be dead? 

But I’m still going strong with my blood self -healing.

A poisonous farewell I give to everyone I lose.

 I’m unaffected by a dagger aimed, 

Didn’t conceive of my body regenerating.

And my blood in the open — it ends lives.

I rise and into the night fade, as if I never was.

Tears leaking down my face, caustic themselves. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.