Broken Souls

By AE

They are cast aside, rejected,
Longing for that day, dejected,
Harboring torment, desperate,
Illusions of normality.
Twisted, sick, corrupt captors,
Like a black hole, it sucks you in;
The environment, the elements, rhetoric,
Nontransparent and hidden from society.
To our families, once begotten,
But now only forgotten,
They are broken around him,
Fallen, one by one, again and again.
The sickness is in the air…
But he fights it!
His gas mask, the only person who’s always cared,
Fighting to persevere, detractors become irrelevant,
His chin high, his chest out, he is benevolent.
He remains headstrong, steadfast, and whole,
And will never fall as a broken soul…

Poem with a Verse

By AC

Let me take you to a place I like to go,
when I’m looking for some answers
to the many, many questions
about things that I don’t know.

There is no car that could take you on this road,
no shoes that could make your steps feel any lighter,
and there is no amount of magical concoctions
that could ease any of our pains
as we continue to march on.

We’ll have to travel East
until the East begins to blur
and slowly eliminates
any difference it can hold
in contrast with the West.

And we’ll continue on
until the North lifts up its arms,
becomes brothers with the South,
and respectfully embraces
in something resembling warmth.

When we get close to where we are going,
the clock will keep on ticking,
but its measurements will no longer mean a thing.
You can come and stay with me forever,
but there will be no one that could tell you
what forever really means.

At this place, the twilight lasts a little longer,
shining light on our ever-winding road
that ahead of us continues twisting
in contrast with how straight it may now seem
on the parts we’ve left behind.

We’ll need to find a way
to get off the road that we walk on
and get on to the trail
that will take us to the world that lies beyond.

When I get onto this trail, I always see a pond;
the dim light reveals shining silver water
that shows me the reflection of the person that I was,
the person I will be, and the person that I am.

On the horizon, I see mountains,
darkened by the distance,
hidden by the shadows
of all the things that are unknown,
unseen from where we are.

When the hypnotizing spell is broken
and I continue walking,
fireflies slowly begin to gather by,
lighting up for every thought and every idea
that proved way too elusive
to keep bottled in my mind.
Now they gently float on the warm breeze,
blessing me with light.

I keep walking until the ground is just no more,
until the water in the shining silver pond
begins to cascade off the side of this small world.
I sit down,
and I let my feet dangle off the edge
while I’m staring into space,
trying to figure out where the fireflies lights end,
and where the glowing lights from all those stars begin.

GOD, it’s all so beautiful out here.
You would think it would be cold,
but it feels so nice and warm.
The wind carries the familiar scents
of all the things I miss from home.

The starlights hit the water and then scatter,
shining light on to my face,
reminding me at once
of what I love about this place.

I check inside my pockets
for the things of value, I have brought.
Inside one of the pockets, I find a small, torn piece of paper
with a verse that I once wrote.
In the other, I have nothing,
and so I get the thought:
I am the richest man alive,
for I have nothing to distract me
from what really matters in this life.

And as I sit out here,
feet dangling on the edge of the whole world,
thanking whoever thought the earth was flat,
for I like to come here now
when nostalgia, loneliness, and sadness
take a hold of my poor soul.

I think about the stars,
and I feel their loneliness as well,
they spend their whole lives shining
in a place so far away.

I think about my loved ones,
I want to hug them,
I want to kiss them,
I want to tell them to their face
that I love them so very much,
every passing second of every single day.

I want to see the sparkles in their eyes,
I want to hear the glorious sounds,
of their laughter and their smiles.
I want all those things I love,
I want to live them once again.
I want all of those things,
all those things that give me strength.

Come, sit down with me.
Come, look at the stars with me, my friend.

 

About this poem: I just wanted to take the reader out on a field trip and bring him/her into my mind. Sorry for mess, I don’t usually have much company inside my head. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Good luck figuring out the symbolism.  

Child of the Ghetto

By AF

Young child of the ghetto,
Through your eyes I can see
the pain,
Memories of the past roaming
through your
brain,
Friends, family, and the people
we used to know blood’s been washed up
by the rain.
Your heart then grew colder,
and acts of violence have gotten
bolder,
Feeling the whole world weighing
down on our shoulders,
And no longer caring whether we
live or die.
Young child of the ghetto
Young child of the ghetto,
I can feel your
pain
Disloyalty, deceit, betrayal, and
mischief
Is mainly what we see
when you live in Southeast;
I know because that child
was me.

Elements

By MV

I was fortunate to walk this earth with my feet
To the earth will my elements go
Back to dust for someone else’s being, once I’m deceased

I was replenished by water, the sun’s rays against my face
Once I’m gone, my fluids will concede
Returning to its original stream

I meditated on my breath, synchronized with the wind
At one with the planet, on earth’s axis I slowly spin
Gladly I relinquish, exhale never again to take it in

The fire in my passion lit many trails ablaze
Eventually it too will meet the chill of death
As it returns to the coldness of space

I will be at peace, no regrets, no complaints
On how my life was spent
Thankful for my time, the elements, my temporary tent

As for my soul, whether there’s a heaven
Immediately after death I don’t know

Rumors of rewards, doctrines of Paradise
All I can do is be patient and enjoy this present life

 

Author’s note: I wrote this poem because of my experiments with meditation and Buddhist teachings. I wanted to convey my peace, not just in my living, but also the inevitability of death. What did I do with my elements? Hopefully by the time I come face to face with death, I can say that I used them wisely. Death has a lot to do with perception. Does one truly die if the elements that make up your essence remain? I know what I believe is to come, but logically I can’t know for sure. It’s more of a hope I hold inside. But what I do know, because it’s tangible, is the elements that make up my being, and for them I’m truly grateful.  

Justice Is Blind

By TG

Justice is blind
or so I’m told
can’t see a thing
through that blindfold

She cannot see
color of skin
wealthiest king
or poorest kin

The Queen’s English
status by words
the ignorant
by misused verbs

My place of birth
my motherland
whether I am
woman or man

Adds to her choice
which way sword steers
she may be blind
but she can hear

Let’s not forget
her weighing scales
where pocketbooks
always prevail

The innocent
weigh a feather
silver or gold
weigh much better

And to her sword
the choice is clear
unbalanced scale
prejudice ear

Justice is fair
I’ve heard men say
because her sword
can cut both ways

Tooth for a tooth
eye for an eye
live by the sword
and you shall die

But if you’re rich
you need not fear
unbalanced scales
whisper in ear