Category Archives: reblog

A Winged Bird

A beautiful, wistful poem i just had to share

House of Heart

I am who I have always been

a shiver of soft reeds beside the river

or the cascade of a waterfall.

Gypsy crows rise to a soft dawn sky

gathering their kind they circle

back for me.

I can scarcely bear the

splendor of the world,

its wonder humbles

the wisp that is me.

Minutiae of eyes and ears

and speechless tongue,

stunned by the promise

of a red dawn.

Elegant trees lift

their mighty arms,

grand  gods host creatures

large and small.

Their noble crowns filled

with a cornucopia of life.

I want to sail across the sea

tiny fleck that is me,

a winged bird bearer of

no possession,

a fragment of the universe

art by Amy Judd (represented by Hicks Gallery)

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Kate…A Story poem…

A beautiful ode to the Moon from Gigi ❤

Rethinking Life

Fantasy Microphone Singer - Free image on Pixabay

Katie
was born outside
on a clear night
under a crescent Moon

the first thing she saw
through her blurry vision
was that beautiful sliver
of white
hanging in the sky above her

she cooed
at it
and kicked her feet

opening and closing
her tiny new fingers
she reached out
toward the Moon
and the
Moon
took notice

the Moon looked
down
and saw a new daughter
one of Her very own
so She placed
a crescent birthmark
on her wee right arm

Katie
fascinated
with the Moon
sang to Her
every night

she sang about
the Moon’s beauty
she sang about
Her kindness
and when Katie closed her eyes
the only thing she ever saw
was that beautiful crescent Moon
smiling down at her

so if you hear someone singing
about the wonders
of the Moon
and the night sky
it’s probably one of Katie’s songs

but

if

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VOTE…a story poem

Truth from Gigi

Rethinking Life

VOTE

jailed
beaten
their hair pulled
force fed
their medication withheld
handcuffed to the bars
of their damp moldy cells
women fought
for the right to vote
the only way to properly
THANK THEM
is to
do it

VOTE

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America…best read out loud and fast SLAM IT

Please read this fabulous, powerful poem from Gigi! Read it fast aloud and you will have no choice but to read it LOUD!

Rethinking Life

it’s one more lie
that the meek will
inherit anything at all
it’s a false promise
to keep people quiet
hoping for a payoff
at the end
because that’s what
RELIGION is all about
payoffs at the end
promises that have no
basis in reality
just a way to control you
while you’re alive
while the country burns
they want you to sit back
and watch the flames
get on your knees
think happy thoughts
smile
while people scream
and die in the streets
beg for food
and shelter
the priests rape
counting their gold
and the government
gets rich on the poverty
of others
and the dead bodies of our children
who die in foreign lands
as the meek wait for their
reward
a reward for doing nothing
for obeying
for being quiet
for bowing down to the status quo
for keeping their words
INSIDE their throats
for not…

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A sunny day…a poem about death from Rethinking Life

Had to share this fabulous poem from Gigi, see original post here.

Police, Cop, Police Uniforms

and when death comes
in might be
on a sunny afternoon
when everything seems fine
until suddenly you
can’t breath
because your
hands are zipped
behind your back
and there’s a knee
pressing against your
throat
and
then
on that bright
sunny day
with people
shouting
he can’t breath
it’s all
over
and
you’re
someplace
else
someplace
you didn’t expect
to visit so soon
and the country
you are no longer
a part of
bursts into
RAGE
and
FLAMES
and
people
begin to
WAKE UP
and
FINALLY
start to
FIGHT
BACK

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beach-hued rejection

I waded into the brisk blue water

despite of

or because of

my inability to swim

sun-swept memories

prove too sparse to rely on

for warmth

and I’ve been cold

too long

so I kept walking

slowly

until my toes no longer touched

the ocean floor

finding my body

if not my spirit

buoyant

i continued

to inch further into

the deep

thoughts of drowning

entered my mind

yet did nothing

to deter my progress

I turned to see the shore

far behind me

the beach speckled

with what i assume

were once people

if I went under

no one could reach me

growing tired, I waited

for one last sunset

and as the sun met the ocean

I stopped all movement

willing my existence to pass

I closed my eyes

as i felt the water

closing in

over my head

waiting for the searing pain

that comes from breathing saline

yet

suddenly I was floating

the ocean had spat me back out

it seems even Death didn’t want me

~Melanie Thomason

Reblog from 2014

 

 

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no amnesty

youth, like delicate petals,

crushed under boot

innocence lost

but something else took root

words and hands

left a lasting impression

being born

was her only transgression

though her trust and body

were both betrayed

in her heart

was born this crusade

to speak for those

who haven’t the choice

to see the truth

and give it voice

Hear this, predators:

whether stanger, “friend” or “family”

For your crimes

there will be no amnesty!

~Melanie Thomason

reblog from 2014

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Filed under People/Causes I believe In, Poetry, reblog

Aberration

as a child she was called an

aberration

she was shunned by all her

blood relations

treated like some sort of

vile mutation

yet that didn’t stop

incestuous molestation

she endured years of abuse

without deviation

¨

child grew to teen yet no help came for

the duration

so she had no real hope left of white knight style

salvation

she became increasingly aware of even strangers

condemnation

she began to exist in a state of

hibernation

a self-imposed

mental stagnation

¨

for her family there was no

vaccination

she even tried to slough them off through

exfoliation

hoping for loofah induced

decontamination

only red raw skin resulted

not purification

¨

while once again suffering under

grotesque gyrations

she came to startling

realization

there was only one way to

ensure cessation

she planned a different sort of

amputation

how many years would she serve for each

castration?

~Melanie Thomason

Reblog from 2013

*disclaimer no one was castrated (whether deserving or not) for the creation of this poem.

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