Source (his blog): The “Rejection Response” Poem
Soul candle. (Not really related).
“Does that boy know
of the flame that never dies?”
wondered the pastor.
With his godly, holy, perfectly
staunch voice, he told the boy
“My son, do not light the candle,
lest your house burn down
and you sit in ashes,
being abandoned by your flame.”
trusting the pastor,
who always had his house lit righteously,
sat in his house,
no candle lit,
Yet one day,
lit the candle;
and the light of that candle
warmed his home
with a dreamy warmth;
oh how it glowed!
The only thing he
seemed to see
was how it lit
He even thought it could
give light to the soul.
But there came a time
when the flame did rage,
just like the pastor said.
His house did burn down,
enveloped by fiery zeal;
the boy sat in ash,
if he had…
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Hear my cry!
The world is too wet with sentiment!
The tears of the unjust
have flooded the flower fields
to where characters can’t grow!
The moral stem of them
will not shoot and bud,
for the foggy clouds of indecision
keep the sunlight from raising examples.
As I wave my fingers,
wave your solar flares,
Let fireballs lick the swamps
and wetlands where the people
lazily wallow in the mire.
Singe their skin, making them run
Hear my cry!
Fling your ember meteors,
smashing the buildings to the earth!
For mankind now erects many Babels!
liars that lead,
Oh Holy Fire!
Why is there no recompense?
Their souls are soaked with apathy.
See how I run in circles,
stamping my feet in the mud,
for a time that once was,
for the days when the…
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is a freedom farmer’s best friend;
it is a steel tractor
that hums like
a singular chorus of
The farmer’s fields were littered
So blades plowed through the crops,
severing chains and superstitions,
a smooth hair cut
that made one feel
the natural breeze
The farmer turned the tractor’s key
to shut off its engine.
It didn’t stop.
It kept plowing.
It crossed the mind’s boundaries,
scything and scything,
till it reached the farmer’s
and when it leveled the people,
one by one,
heads fell on the ground,
blood fertilized the corn.
the farmer asked his good intentions
But he never got a response.
There is no centre
is a freedom farmer’s best friend.
A nightmare machine.
When I was a little boy,
The lake scared me; I’d watch
The Stevens slosh and splash out
Under the Georgia sun,
But would never flap with them.
The water was too deep for my feet,
Too big for my chubby belly.
Until, floating in shallow depths over time,
A woman with broad, brunette hair
Said: “The Deep’s fun! Just float with me!”
I grasped this one who seemed to have such control,
Such grace in the lake,
and we drifted away.
I learned that,
Though the water is large enough, infinite it seems,
One must swim anyway.
A fish is no fish unless it swims.
But the lake was cruel once.
Its dirty waves swallowed my aunt,
And I suddenly feared the thing I feared
Looking at my family in Georgia.
A moment of suspenseful silence.
Then, the water rose in a fury,
A swirling cyclone of James,
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It is easy to fade in the wall,
Because my huge head,
A round white ball with red spots,
Thinks over and over and over
About how troubled the world is,
How King Bowser reigns with fiery flame.
Yet how sweet it is to see others move
Freely though the castle,
Taking risks and searching for stars.
When a man is shut in a dead town,
His head reeling in years of fear and failure,
How wonderful, how encouraging
the sudden leap of faith,
The yells of laughter:
‘Ya! Woohoo! Yipppeeeeee!’
Though my best speech is in text boxes,
I have often wished I could give you more
Than just advice on the stage;
I wish I could give you free stars,
And make your life easier.
Please forgive me for the times
When I exploded like a Bomb-omb
Or suddenly crashed on you like a Whomp.
My oversized head…
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Another day of pondering the political future. Another day of wondering how much longer the freedoms will last.
Another day of very little reading. Another day of disappointment. Another day of comparisons. Another day of longing.
Another day of exhaustion. Another day of lethargy. Another day of uncertainty. Another day wasted.
Another mundane day. Another routine day. Another hopeless day. Another day with a limited mind. Another day with stupid.
Another day with junk food. Another day with hypochondria. Another day of apathy. Another day of worry.
Another day with uncertainty. Another day with boredom. Another day with uncertainty. Another day with repetition.