Each month, write a new collection.
Your brainit’s not rightbroken, youturn in toyourselfand shouldwe wonderwhyorin wonderrevel inthe beautythat isyou
That's a really beautiful poem man. Very simple a couple of words do it!
Getting Through the residualWhat could have happened to me?I was once a happy ladBefore being only a kidWith a good upbringingAnd a positive regardNobody crossed my pathUntil I was about thirteenThen a crisis happenedUprooted from where I was livingAnd nothing seemed the same againI came back from where I had beenWith my dad, walking on egg shellsJust to not make him madI did good in schoolFound a few friendsPlayed football and golfEven had a trampoline!And was in a good moodMost of the timeWhen I decided to extend my Stay, living with dad for four yearsAnd was never the sameWas it adulthood?That had changed me?From that go lucky frame of mindWas it drinking and smoking dope?That had changed me over timeWas it the fact I came and went backto visit my mom again and againWas it the uprooting from when I was thirteen that changed me forever and losingmy friends?They both wanted the best for me, my parentsbeing divorcedHating each otherbeing a brotherwithout a familyOf COURSEI wanted to be a partI needed to be wholeBeing between two familiesAnd never calling one homeThis is why I never was feeling acceptedOr secure, I was in limbo, a puppetFor lack of a better wordI was in a diseaseA real severe depressionI wanted to let it out and grieveBut could not express itI was a boy needing to be a manNow that I am, it is no wonder I changed my plans, it was forced upon meAnd was an impositionIt was making a life changing personal decision
That's a great poem Daryl. You really have the ability to reveal yourself and it touches me deeply when you do.
To have consequences with the choices I madePersonality was my voiceand identity was the sameI was surviving the timesI was a pawn on the boardI was shuffled through the deckI was kicked out and I was moremy feathers were ruffledand yet,I was let loose through mother gooseand held accountable through father timeI am my own man nowand my mind isn't in the cloudsAnd my spirit is doing fineWhet happened to me?All's I can say is I changed for the betterI can be responsiblefrom dad's perspectiveand can be loving and unfetteredLike my mom, she always was a rebelat heartThe two could not be togetherAnd it broke me apartNow I'm almost fifty fiveyears oldA senior citizenAnd I still am youngnot old I'm getting through the residualThrough the pain of my youthI have got through the shameand the abuseBut now, truly I can sayI am known to be on my ownand I am still alive todayI think I have come home
Another great one man!
Forrest of GuttersA worn and leathered faceImprinted with deep linesSad and tired eyesBuried in that faceA lean and frail frame Slumped by povertyShallow and withered limbsHanging like stringA grim and piercing stareFilled with silent nightmaresToo much street credAnd too little charityA faded cardboard signMisspelled pleas for reliefCrushed by calloused handsAnd faded by the seasonsCreaking clang of wheelsThe crinkle of plastic bagsStinking of a rotted lifeWith the slightest hint of hope
I love "too much street cred." And I love this poem!