Poem: Already gone.

(This is a poem about the thoughts & feelings that so many suffer with daily.)


He fought so hard“,
people would say.
And he did,
he did,
until he didn’t.

Gone, long before his heart stopped beating.
In a moment living merely became the passing of time.
He was defeated by the long hard struggle
of being alive.

He looked upon life and realised that everyone
should have the right to reject this gift
that they had never asked for.
Was it not more selfish to demand of another
that they endure the intolerable pain of existence?

In the end it takes more courage to stay
than to leave and everyone leaves eventually,
Everyone is going to hurt you.
He wished to leave, to give in
before He could see the rest leave too.

They taught him how to give up,
They gave up on him.
He gave up on him.
He gave up.
He gave.
Gave.
He poured all of his soul into the world,
He was now empty with nothing more to give.

He did not mean to drown. He was to swim until he sank,
It was not quite the same thing.
As an anchor, touching the depths of the sea,
It was comforting to know he could sink no further.

He could no longer see the point of getting up.
What was in this new day to look forward to?
All he was doing was suffering sunrises,
And the sun will rise again,
But one day he wouldn’t.

One mans treasure is another’s curse.
What he once saw as a curse,
He now saw as a treasure,
For he was no longer the same man.

For weeks he was afraid he may leave,
and then he was afraid that he wouldn’t.
There were so many things he could have become.
But he will remain, made up of possibilities,
for he was already gone.

Words, lasting longer than people.

Dear Mothers

Dear Mothers,
Please forgive us children who do not understand
That You offer only a helping hand.
A hand that has the strength to hold up the sky
and we reject you and we make you cry…
Please forgive us…

I have seen the love of mothers, of all mothers
with a love unmatched, unfathomable, unconditional.
A mothers love is love in its truest and purest form
given to all her beloved children.
You show love how love should be.

How cursed am I that God fashioned me into a man
for i shall never know the joys of being a mother.

The joys of carrying within me the life of another.
The joys of holding in my arms the life that has come
from within me.

The joys of having two souls occupy my body.
But I shall never know these joys as anything other than a witness,
a witness to the most beautiful thing in existence.
The Love shared between mother and child.

Kahlil Gibran said that Your children are not your own.

Yes, your children are indeed not your own,
They are the children of this world.
And Dear Mothers,
Although you may not have given birth to me,
You are my mother too –
all mothers to all children.

Dear Mothers,
We grow up believing you are invincible,
infallible and immortal – nothing can hurt our mother
because she is strong, the strongest being we know.
And yet, we forget that you are human too
and time will oneday take you from us
too soon… it will always be too soon.

And while you live in this mortal world
you nurture us, you feed us, you love us
and the moment we can do these things without you
Dear Mother, we forget you and all you have done for us.
We strive for “freedom and Independence”
We want to “make our own decisions”
We curse you and cast you away…

and yet, you never stop loving us.
Your love defines the word “Unconditional”
for in your every heartbeat we hear the rhythm
say, “No matter what you do, I will always love you!”
..da-dum…da-dum…da-dum…………………………

We have never stopped to think of the pain of our Mothers,
Who have children grow up to be ungrateful and uncaring,
and when their child hurts another, the mother sits crying
as if it was her fault the child was the cause of another’s dying.
We know that no Mother brings up their child to be murderers,
just as no mother brings up their child to be murdered…

We think we feel pain.
When we bruise our knees and hurt our elbows, mama kissed it better.
When we ‘grow-up’ we’re ‘too old’ for our mothers love because
no one could ever know our pain and our pain is great,
We curse you for always trying to help for it is the nature
of love to want to ease the pain of the object of love –
who loves more truly than a mother loving her child?
Yet we charge you for interfering.
“Leave me alone!”
“Stay out of my life!”
Never will we ever say such words we would do anything to be able to swallow.

But nothing compares to a mothers love
and nothing compares to a mothers pain.
To be unappreciated by ones own children,
or worse rejected and cursed…

What hurts more than a C-Section Birthing Dead Babies?

Thank God for not fashioning me into a woman
for I shall never know such pain as that of a mother.

My Dear Mothers,
I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.
Please forgive me,
I love you,
Thank you.

Poem: My Pain

I am a hooker for pain pimped out to calamity
because tragedy seems to be the only commodity
that’s suitable for my trade.

I strip tease insanity and lap dance to sadness
I pole dance for an audience of fear and anxiety
I give an erection to suicidal thoughts because life is hard.
But through the difficulties I give head to failure and
I promise a happy ending. Continue reading “Poem: My Pain”