My mother never calls
She....Well
I, I loved her, most of all!!!!!!
And even at this stage of life
Perhaps a word from her
Could set any simple things right....?

She's my mother whom
I love her with all my heart
And all my might
Yet..........................................
She knows all my stumbling blocks
She's seen
All the love that I have lost
She know my heart
Has suffer great
Yet her finger points at my mistakes.........
!.....?
I miss her finger
I know I lived wrong
Yet we need a family!
To help us stay strong
If she won't call me
I hope she lives long!

It was that little
seed that turned into a wish
and made the sky smile

❤️

check in at the library, my card scanned,
per the terms of my sentencing agreement

to the poetry shelves dispatched.
row after row, book after book,
all blank awaiting my affections,
all demanding my sensei sensations,
seeking a creme filling of honorations,
words of all shape, roots and origins,
the occasional new combination

some, never heard before, timelessly awaiting expulsion
from the birth-vocal canal where comes origination,
but for me, death by enforced creativity,
that’s what the judgers desired,
a punishment that fits the crime

my misdeed record unsealed, intended for
world envisioning, the ego audacity to imagine
I could write a single good poem,
thus the punishment fits the crime

may1 9:19am ‘19

Some children in High School
have tongues like switchblades.
Sharpened at home
in parents care.
They scar beautiful souls
trying to live in an often cruel world.

Children in High School
have tongues like cutters,
that should be left in doors mouth.
They cause pain by bulling
thinking they are immune to persecution.    

But they will learn,
as shields are formed by
those transgressed upon.

AS parents take control and
dole out punishment teaching them to
  leave their tongue bolos firearms inside.

AS people awake to not tolerate
their insensitivity and ignorance.
After all...we are all one. We are all gifted.