This Head Aches

How did it come to this?
lies like irritating flies
buzzing around bull shit
taking the piss
as I enlist my signature
to post my feelings
like a letter
i only want better days
or
should i ignore
like those childish dreams
long time gone
faded away
like
forgotten bedtime prayer's
fade into reality like
the smoke of black coconut incense
i am not playing
looking for an ending
headaches descending
my eyesight merging,
thoughts
like theses
are blissfully
disturbing
me:
patiently waiting
like an oil painting
in the process
brush strokes
tickling
irritating
tormenting me
as i beg
stop please
making me look stupid
like a fool in love
struck down
by cupid
who is this?
dont know!
buzzing i hear
and they became my
companion
call me shit
yes, good shit
the same
you think is cool
and easy to fool
but i know
i mean, knew
throughout your sweet soothing
political talk-talk
you, with whom
my mind stalks
and as much as i try to help it
my brain channels curses
into the solar waves
tired of this repetition
I am not insane,
This happens everyday
talents wasted
violated
underpaid
but
I will NOT,
take this
with me to the
Grave!
Or the afterlife
to and from
before
my laws
will guide me
and keep my harmony intact
like the rays and light and heat
connected to the Sun.

[pauses and reflects]

Taking my head out of your ass
once again!

Period!

when will you stand for me?
believe in me?
am i a scape goat?
or better still
a black sheep
yes my wool
will keep you warm
same way
undeniably
no constantly
overlooked
Denied and
pushed to the side
strong i am indeed,
was an inherited quality
from before
I became a seed
so god damn
I must
Succeed!

I wonder
when
'High I'
will grant
the wings
of Achilles
to take me into
a place before time
called destiny,
hope she stands near
next to me
truly
and woo me
there,
where here and now,
I disappear.

Shaun Gordon aka Donusho 31/12/2010 ©

Candy Poem (Inspirational response) by BrokenPenWriter

Candy Poem (Inspirational response) by BrokenPenWriter.

Lost paths sought
on the black
balding page
of blog
this stage
where words dance
your words
memory's trance
a chance
to catch the train
that, once missed
may never return
but might
some night
in the coal black
light of sweet London
where Candy kissed
your soul.

BrokenPenWriter

See more great poetry on http://brokenpenwriter.wordpress.com/

See the original Candy Poem BrokenPenWriter responded to:
http://donusho.blogspot.com/2010/11/candy.html

Personal note: I cant say how much it means to me to know that i have inspired someone - it feels more than great or greatness itself. Thank you very much BrokenPenWriter.

Spare change please.

I used to give what ever I had in those loose pockets of mine
hoping
the little would make you smile,
encourage
or motivate you to blossom again.

So you wouldn't have to bear those despiteful stare
as you ask for spare change.
so that your coffee would warm your chest,
just
so that you could get by another day.

Until i saw you walking your dog
into a house...
holding cans of beer, and grocery...
this is a trickery of sight, I think?

Unbelief made me watch you for one week
or so:
as you came out of your house
and went to work, sitting there
pleading for spare change
upon my deaf ears.

Though you probably counted for
a small percentage,
my compassion fled to the unknown,
a rock pumps the cells through my veins
and a blind eye i give
these days.

Can I find my faith
again?


Shaun Gordon aka Donusho 14/11/2010 ©

Picture from Adam Dustus, OneShotPoetry (one shoot sunday photo), oneshotpoetry.blogspot.com


A small note:
I am aware that not all homeless people are out there to deceive or make money just so they can get another fix. I have spoken to some homeless people and they actually admitted that this is a chosen lifestyle for them. Though this is not true for all as everyone situation is different.
The above poem is a personal experience of my mine and I wanted to express how it made me feel, think and delve into how it effected my attitude.
Thanks for reading.

Locked off (Dear Locks)

Locked off (Dear Locks…)

Proceeding with one two three,
Into darkness of uncertainties…

Dear Locks,

You will be dearly missed
Cutting you off was the last thing
I would ever do.
What you meant to me…
Where do I begin.

Since I was seven,
I wanted long hair
My Mother said no
To cornrows, funky dreads
And anything over an inch!
I used to flinch
At going to the barbers
Thinking they were
Cutting a life form away,
Apart of me alive

So
I celebrated my manhood and freedom
and grew my locks,
You reminded me
Of small little maggots to begin with,
Comb twist.

Months grew into years
And you were already shoulder length.
Thick brown and beautiful:
A symbol of strength, determination and
Perseverance.

This look I had was so unique,
apart of me,
I deemed it unimaginable to be parted away from you.
You were like my first and everlasting true love
Because you helped me identify, myself.
You were there through thick and thin.
Only to realise it was only for a season
Where uniqueness is truly and always,
Residing in the heart.

But it’s hard:
As I watched
The blades embraced
And cut you into two, apart.
I can hear you screaming,
Colour-blind as though I were
Watching a black and white film
Day dreaming a nightmare.

Then a humming bird
Whispered in my left ear
‘I am not my hair’, (India Aries)
Making my heart break the day like the sunshine.
So removing you would be like moving the clouds away
Yet I would still like it to rain.


Were we secret lovers having an affair in broad day light?
Tell me, we are not breaking away
Yet, its so evident that we have grown apart.
Proceeding with four, five, six, seven, eight
Its too late,
As you fall like duck feather on the floor.

Self reflection.
Of embracing the new,
Staring like a child unsure
Of what to do.
Dark brown nappy fluff
Candy floss
Exploring the lightness

A new look and freedom.
Cold sharp slick razor
Glides smoothly across
The Atlas of my head
Sheering away the wheats
To reveal dry ground.

A new look and freedom.
What an exploration,
The Liberation.
Of not being caged
Into an appearance
But a living soul,
A fresh wind beautifully packaged within.


Shaun Gordon aka Donusho
07/08/2010 ©