Prison or Therapy

A boy slurps his berry Popsicle as a stranger licks his lips.

Gazing at a sticky grin, an old man tightens grip.

He’s gripping onto morals that chime his mind is wrong.

He bows his face in plain disgrace for spurring red lips on.

A sin of thoughts, mind the court. Jury solely lead.

No action taken, no life forsaken. The crime is in his head.

A pervert in the closet, a predator debating.                                    .

Do we sentence him to prison for a crime that lay’s in waiting?

Do we open hearts to illness, treating man’s affliction?

Provide a place that won’t disgrace to heal with no conviction?

 


I would love to hear your thoughts on this topic. Rehabilitation or incarceration?

This poem is not written to cast judgment or condemn. I am sorry if my words are offensive to anyones personal experiences.

This was written after observing a stranger on a park bench. 

Love heals above all…

Crazy’s Eviction

 

What? No! Yes, I do mind this mind!

Surely, my might will surface this time?

If I eat right, run and sing until hoarse.

This time, resolve will derail mind’s course.

See, I read, I stream, I Google mind’s woes

Self diagnose with Doctors employed in screen’s glow

Wiki how? Wiki why? Wiki when will this end?

Wiki, fuck off, you’re a foe, not the ear of a friend

I’m blaming, I’m shaming, I’m losing my marbles

Not enough though, to stop, this typing of garbles

It’s words and wit that omit mind’s afflictions

This two-stanza rhyme is crazy’s eviction

happy_happy_smiling_time_by_fridabjo
Happy Happy Smiling Time by Fridabjo

My Mocking Clock

There’s no living without danger, there’s no feat without failure.

A life lived blaming strangers restricts our own saviors.

I once dwelled amongst blame, a pawn in minds game.

It took darkness to see me, as the light to ignite shame.

An idol of others dreams saw hands cuffed and screams muted.

Anticipating my own failure left its occurrence undisputed.

So what stopped my mocking clock?

Was it mere time to learn that I could master the ticks and tocks?

2015-11-30_15.24.50

My Wretched Phone

You’re the one I gaze too, when mind is seeking light

You’re the glow beneath the covers, the company at night

Addicted to your charm, chiming when in need

Veinless with a pulse, you’re faced, yet never bleed

Your sheen detracts from mine, a foe that is a friend

Your soul holds no regard, yet your ear I seem to lend

Pocketed for safety, lonely yet not alone

Silenced, never muted, you are my wretched phone

Phone Girl by XAV-Drawordie
Phone Girl by XAV-Drawordie

Weaponry in Words

Microphone by Japan
Microphone by Japan

Here I go, on this path to enlighten those who’ll listen

Keyed to unlock inequity from suppressions prison

I’m preaching for the little boy, who’s father beats his mother

“Daddy’s death” the torch lit wish, whispered under cover

I’m singing for the soldier who’s never left the war

Child Abuse 2 by Miss Murder
Child Abuse 2 by Miss Murder

Who lays awake in sweats dreaming death is at his door

I’m Humming for the tormented, plagued with their own mind

Questioning reality, distortions seen when blind

I’m vocal for the Muslim, seats vacant either side

India: Street Girl by Mister Now
India: Street Girl by Mister Now

Commuters opt to stand, over rubbing shoulders for the ride

I’m speaking for that little boy, asked to lick a lolly pop

The licking of a phallic, while pleading it to stop

For those eating feces to halt the destiny of death

Morsels numbered calculate a timeline for their breath

This is for injustice, inequity and truth

poverty 1 by myemptybliss
Poverty 1 by My Empty Bliss

This is for the world in which were bringing up our youth

Equip your lips with tactfulness to unshackle what resides

What keeps us up at night, producing pain when lips confide

Assemble with me, armed with words, to pierce a callused skin

A revolution without weapons, let your penmanship begin


Social responsibility is embodied in art. I cry out for those who’s tears are shed in silent suffering.  Words  script change.

A single voice can cross the world if cherished  by the right gust of wind…

When the End is not Near Enough

Chest holds grenades pulled of their pin

Daddooms counting down those ticks from within

Strokes falling short of a meaningful measure

Beats that retreat, as aching’s trump pleasure

Oh how chambers chime in a pitch out of tune

Rhythms depicting a heart now in ruin

Daddooms void of lust, rings stripped of luck

A life that’s no must, screams a “who gives a fuck”

Oh… but action takes motive, motive takes might

Who’s the lacer of gloves for living this fight?

The pins now been pulled, but whether to throw

Or wait clasping down for more souls than your own

The fight isn’t over, life’s in your hands

Grenades can be tossed to better-laid plans

Throw at the daemons poisoning mind

Let pins release pain, without blood on the line

Life isn’t over when thoughts muffle dreams

Life only halts when silencing screams

When a heart stops its course, short of fulfilled

When minds current racings are finally stilled

When that trigger is pointing to the one in the frame

When the mirrored reflection ends its own game

What is the fuel for pulling life’s pin?

Don’t rely on the mind that scolds what’s within

A stranger, a friend, a soul in the light

Is the lacer of gloves for winning this fight

Hearts soften voices poisoning minds

Rekindling hopes that alone you can’t find

Echo’s in mirror should be spied by another

Sounded in tongue, not by daemons you suffer

Put down the knife that’s intended to pierce

Cut down that noose that will cut short your years

Turn from the ledge that tows now caress

Discard the drugs you intend to ingest

Is your hearse laying chosen? Is the grave trumping life?

Is your hand on the trigger while your rolling deaths dice?

Please reconsider the bed you have made

Rest tomb bound plans covertly laid

I’ll lend you my mind to offload your daemon

My heart can fill yours, life’s not in completion

Image, Hand By Gilead
Image, Hand By Gilead

Mirror Mirror

Mirror Mirror on the wall. Your awe ensnares the minds of all

Echoes spied reaps fickle minds, feelings caged are framed in time

Mirror Mirror on minds wall, who projected what I saw?

Your telling pitch reflects retorts, framing sheens berating thoughts

Mirror Mirror finds minds scrawl. What will this spy have in store?

So fare and white within life’s frame, your trust emaciates this dame

Image by Fatina Faina Anorexia
Image by Fatina Faina
Anorexia

My Tears won’t Resurrect a Life

Certainty now feared, as time promotes regression

Hours clocked in seconds, minutes prized possessions

Life deprived of space, for loves chanced deposits

In ticks and tocks another frame descends to earthly closets

Mirror and clock stand hand in hand, unified to rival

Regrets yield no apology as grief spurs no revival

Pain declines with time, memories will fade

Tears won’t resurrect my loves within life’s grave

My Eyes Refuse to Accept Passive Tears Image by agnes-cecile
My Eyes Refuse to Accept Passive Tears
Image by agnes-cecile