Cortège

 

Adoring clopping of feet

Razzmatazz music plays

Through a thorny pathway

Markers- left unattended

It was a somber procession

All my memories in full tow

One after the other, slow-ly

Stepping like dead heartbeats

Across a barren heartscape

Leaving scarred fractures

Like spiderwebs, haunting

And their sound, echo-less

I’ve yet to toss my handful

Of dearth, in final acceptance

Our love had finally passed

But you always knew it would

Long before you fleeting on

Neglected: truth I must profess

You never came for its wake

Don’t worry, few did anyways

Never offering one last kiss

Your last, still ghostly enough

Nor sent a flower arrangement

In stillness, our love missed…you

 

Poet of the Light © 2019

Onesie

 

Where to could I go;

Worn out now after you?

Who would want me now

After being tossed aside

As if I- became worthless

All because you deemed it so

 

Who could fill your void;

Albeit proven-cold and cruel?

Echoes of your condemnation

Still reverberate here daily

In laughter’s, as well as words

Who wouldn’t want that- erased?

 

I now agree, I was never your one

Someone who could give, endlessly

After all, you used all I was anyways

That’s your modus operandi, right?

Killing love and hearts in your wake

And I- was just another foolish…one

 

Poet of the Light © 2019

Oppositeness

 

Love is a dangerous luxury

We oft lose in casual choices

Falsely believing, we own it

Liken an old watch we wear

When and if we’re feeling so

Ignorant that they can both

Suddenly just turn on a dime

Or simply…not turn for us at all

 

Poet of the Light © 2019

I speak for me- alone

 

There are times I read or hear people

Being overly inclusive, void permission

Assuming their experience is the same

As yours or mine, without asking a thing

Calling us- “Survivors” …no- not me

Nope, I refuse such a dishonest label

In part, upon the same moral grounds

Slaves refused a name from a master

Master’s that modified them forever

Something being attached to a being

Not of their making, nor their choice

Its an automatic open door for others

To use like an unexpired show ticket

Seeking to traipse through our ordeal

As if entitled, to interrogate our veracity

And all too often victimize us once again

Only to add to our burden of sensitivities

To strip away what God hadn’t intended

They’re pejoratives, plain and simple

Labels are not informative or definements

Of who the person is, or experienced

To impose such a lifelong obligation

Is not only cruel but humiliating inhuman

Besides, the person was rightfully named

For most, their name of origin, authenticity

Stemming from a bloodline of history

Beyond mere fellowship: but familyship

Something one can chose for themselves

On whether they want or not to take pride in

Not a shackle to be looked down upon

Nor pitied as if marked nonredeemable

And in need of share charitable emotions

Or clinical objectified; endless evaluation

Because some self-serving narcissist

Pontificates they can undo the experiences

Heal you by means of their modern science

Only to compound us with more intrusions

And when they all failed…blame the victim

 

Poet of the Light © 2019

Aftermath~ They will come:

 

There are those we meet

Who befriend us, our trust

Some join us in fellowship

Others merely following observers

In our chapters- treks our life journey

Some may become more like family

No matter where we are in our life

They will come, most assuredly

They can appear and go unnoticed

Some will stand out by reason

Some will aid to our comfort

Some will aid in our understanding

Some will aid us, unwittingly

Until long after they’ve left

Some leave an indelible marks

Some will leave unrelenting scars

In our every thought, like traps

All this and choices, shape us

Forming our bonds or broken binds

Some of us become stronger, endure

Some of us will become wiser

Still some of us retreat and hide

Recognizing signs of a storm to come

Mitigating chances of damage responsibly

Those who choose to be invective

beyond any playful joking- project

They’re also those who are most unhappy

They want to share in our joys- sorta

Become like we are with others

They want to become permanent

In all that we do, we share willingly

But, they seem to want to sabotage us

So as to sabotage that connection

That tether of unadulterated trust

We so freely gift, offer from our heart

From their passive aggressive behaviors

That first bite from a recoil of vile reaction

Starting from their biased accusations

Cloaked in their defensive opinion

Which they further qualify by evidence

Of your personal interactions with others

Pointing out your flaws, pale judgments

They tend to want to slowly strip you

From yourself, remold your chosen values

Until we’ve mirrored theirs, perfectly

Know now, they will surely come

Count carefully the friends you love~

Entitlement’ in the name of “friendship

Oh! what a most sewn deceitful weave

Its never about being friends, not really

Its about their inner self, unresolved pain

Dripping in bloodied specious rhetoric

Void of discretion, or friendly decorum

They are lead by a dark agenda, unknown

Which is why they’ll victimize…anyone

 

Poet of the Light © 2019

Killjoy

 

I simply grew overtired of just being

some lost misbegotten passenger

on your obtuse train, of selfishness

So much so, I instinctively concluded

to throw all hope along with myself

from a destined impending train wreck

knowing full well- I’d openly accept

the battering and scars of the ground

was preferential to your type of…love-fest

 

Poet of the Light © 2019

Hindsight

 

I learned a divine lesson long ago;

Tears are truly the blood of our soul

So- I know the real value of each drop shed

 

There are far too many who pontificate

like experts because they need to be needed

and have yet taken an honest self inventory

 

Why must or should I subject myself,

to any of the objectification by others;

once they discover, I’ve became a victim?

 

Whilst there are many who have endured

suffering at the hands of loved strangers

Know that, none of us are exactly the same

 

Trust- a journey often mistaken as an entitlement

simply because you’ve created some justification

to use like a guilty currency; thus buying your agenda

 

Know- there is a graceful solace in the silence

that keeps us far from the world’s touch, or view

A mere small fragment of heaven, unmolested

 

So at times we may well be uncharted islands

growing in aberrational ways and new values

None the less, perfecting who were are, as- us

 

Never am I required ever to open up myself

for inspection or criticism by anyone else

Stripping my autonomy is now… a boundary too far

 

Poet of the Light © 2019