Everyone Lies

ones that
are vulnerable
reaching out
looking for comfort
looking for hope
life seems
in crisis

trust
manipulation
used
to an end
not to help

sleight of hand
say what
one needs to
hear
ignore
the signs
too smart
for that
not me

fall under
the spell
fall for
the
illusion

you have
been
warned

Where are you....

why be in love
a feeling inside
unexplained
illusion or
delusion

makes one happy
not jumping
for joy
rather a comfort
need fulfilled

one has had
one need search
harder now
judgmental
perhaps

shared needs
physical and
mental
internal glow
one knows when
one sees it
will it happen
again
a calmness
comes over
maybe

like wisps of fog
gather stronger
taking form
choices
roads traveled
end
or no end
story continues

Gloom Of Night

somedays

events occur

brightness of day

turns to gloom

of night

a bit of tear

hangs on

a reminder

not what was

but of hope

what might be

illusion 

sometimes

passes as 

reality

reminder to self

don't forget

to breathe

Does It Matter

Gloomy

Does It Matter

Calling out

to the sky

no answer

to be had

in return

Just the quiet

as an answer

was it enough

what was done

did it matter

does it

ever

matter

holding back

the oceans

of lost

opportunity

fix

patch

repair

to no avail

rip tides pull

one out to sea

fight the current

swept away

no one knows

a finger

in the water

leaves no mark

was it really

a wonderful life

mr stewart

no wings

no angels

no echo

in the night

fragile

vulnerable

unable

to shake

the doubts

of worth

doubts that

set in

tend to

linger

Raymond J Denzel

Private Dancer

This poem is dedicated to Christine Macdonald whose life story inspired these words!

Poetic repeat

together with friends

sometimes alone

he visits the building

holds promises

visions of beauty

his all alone

pay at the door

cover they say

begrudgingly one does

boom of the bass

quickens his pulse

familiar song

favorite tune

sets the mood

unsaid by burly

look don't touch

wanders in

darkened room

lights from stage

focal point

eyes adjust

drink is brought

table sought

eyes search

for the one

makes him feel good

warm inside

at what cost

everything

he has

always the same

game is on

pretend she cares

all is revealed

all that she has

enticing enchanting

moth to a flame

drawn he is

morning after

alone again

head pounding

wallet empty

vows never ever

will be back

started young

legal she was

pushing drinks

wondering would

she could she

money an issue

week to week

pick the path

devil in details

if only for awhile

keep it business

not personal

made her debut

a night

to remember

soon to forget

three song set

tips would come

tried to act

done before

screw up courage

dance like others

finished with money

good job honey

cruise the tables

mine them for more

lap or table

make them pay

too many married

made her wonder

another transaction

business deal

a guy comes in

asking for her

laughter dance

money exchanges hands

she is gone

looking

for someone else

how long

can this go on

just to get ahead

always tired

energy needed

do a line

forbidden fruit

not so young

time passes by

change ones life

what to do

income different

can't survive

time to move on

younger ones

alway at the door

ones self critical

still pretty maybe

always tired

long for more

no white knight

none to rescue

not looking

personal choice

whats it gonna be

tina said it right

dance while looking

at the wall

Wedding Vows

       A repeat from R Jacob Post

I was recently was asked by a woman at work to write her wedding vows. I was stunned, hiding my surprise, I said yes. I thought about it for four days or so. Writing it took about 45 minutes. I handed it to her at work. When she read it, she started to cry, blurted out "perfect" and kept crying. This was all because I took a chance and brought some of poetry to work for some of the ladies to read. Let Them Read was my post I guess that started the ball rolling. I was there for the wedding, feeling like a playwright waiting to  hear the words I had written. For better or worse (pun intended) here is what I came up with. My first, my last, my everything Words torn from a song What can one say When someone touches your heart and your very soul My words are framed in ways To show our shared emotions Our lives are different from this moment on Caring for one another Our ups and downs For better or worse My soul mate We are kindred spirits Our movements locked in step It is meant to be forever Our hands reaching out for the other To be there for me And I for you I will give you my all To be loved once again My gift to you and yours to me Everything I have to make you happy Affairs of the heart can not be wished for Birds must sing in the same key Bees making honey never sweeter Sunrises seem to be perfect Sunsets bring hope for more to come Walks by the ocean Two sets of prints Leaving their mark Our thoughts to be shared Words not be spoken I never gave up hope that sometime Somewhere, you would enter my life And share our lives together

No Hope

why oh why

what have I done

to be in a place

where there

is no hope

no food

no drink

all alone

so young

no future

no past

can't understand

forsaken

gift to mankind

possibilities

unlimited

doctor

scientist

cruelty of mankind

starvation

dying of thirst

cruelty of nature

cruelty of man

food and water

everywhere

not here

never enough

hunger constant

thirst constant

suffering constant

future is dim

I am forsaken

what have I done

death is near

end the suffering

Poem by R. Jacob Post Poetic Muses

This photograph showing a starving Sudanese child being stalked by a vulture won Kevin Carter the 1994 Pulitzer Prize for feature photography.

Photographer Haunted by Horror of His Work

Obituary: Kevin Carter 1960 - 1994

Johannesburg - Kevin Carter, the South African photographer whose image of a starving Sudanese toddler stalked by a vulture won him a Pulitzer Prize this year, was found dead on Wednesday night, apparently a suicide, police said yesterday.  He was 33.  The police said Mr Carter's body and several letters to friends and family were discovered in his pick-up truck, parked in a Johannesburg suburb.  An inquest showed that he had died of carbon monoxide poisoning.

Mr Carter started as a sports photographer in 1983 but soon moved to the front lines of South African political strife, recording images of repression, anti-apartheid protest and fratricidal violence.  A few davs after winning his Pulitzer Prize in April, Mr Carter was nearby when one of his closest friends and professional companions, Ken Oosterbroek, was shot dead photographing a gun battle in Tokoza township.

Friends said Mr Carter was a man of tumultuous emotions which brought passion to his work but also drove him to extremes of elation and depression.  Last year, saying he needed a break from South Africa's turmoil, he paid his own way to the southern Sudan to photograph a civil war and famine that he felt the world was overlooking.

His picture of an emaciated girl collapsing on the way to a feeding centre, as a plump vulture lurked in the background, was published first in The New York Times and The Mail & Guardian, a Johannesburg weekly.  The reaction to the picture was so strong that The New York Times published an unusual editor's note on the fate of the girl.  Mr Carter said she resumed her trek to the feeding centre.  He chased away the vulture.

Afterwards, he told an interviewer, he sat under a tree for a long time, "smoking cigarettes and crying".  His father, Mr Jimmy Carter laid last night: "Kevin always carried around the horror of the work he did." - The New York Times

Source: Sydney Morning Herald Saturday 30 July 1994

Empty Dreams

falling asleep

realizing

for once

in a long time

no one

to dream

about

no taking

myself

to my happy

place

there is

no happy

place

anymore

Ghost Ship

like the

Flying Dutchman

cast about

the oceans

tortured souls

unable to land

come to port

complete the journey

unrequited

unable to complete

the circle

the journey

to be as one

not to be

as two

thoughts and

emotions

crash the seas

the mantra repeats

can not have

what is not

attainable

what if it is true

the highest mountains

the deepest seas

stand between you

it is not worth the effort

it can not be

no sacrifice too great

but to no avail

Don Quixote

jousted at windmills

laughed at

delusional

he didn't win

like a lovesick boy

in school

heart set

on the prettiest girl

not to be

why do men

do what they do

brain doesn't

get in the way

logic spock

too human

heart gets in the way

doesn't need to

make sense

she reads

thoughts undone

space and time

allows one to

reach out

or brush away

there will be

another

or two or three

sameness

closeness

not to

be there

bruised

and

bewildered

should have

known better

why did I try

doddering old fool

taken as I am

true to thy self

accept or reject

chips

fall as they may

owed nothing

by other

emotional

outburst

a cleansing

not complete

bury into the

ground

this too shall pass

just a man

to survive

the saying

just friends

not lovers

my ghost ship

journeys on

Daytime Hands Off To Night

looking over water

from backyard

birds come down

once last chance

for the day

feast or famine

unaware fish

swim by

a meal or home

to early

to call

a cool breeze

starts to find

its way

to end

a another

heat full day

the sun

ends it free fall

off in distance

water swirling

ripples trace

the surface

from whence it came

smooth jazz

tickles the ears

Franks and Krall

magical question

popsicle toes

are always froze

how many licks

to make you

happy

the world

may never know

one can guess

one more

might do it