My Twenty Lines

I just read this poem about using just twenty lines,
and it brought these words to my mind.
Who are they to tell us how many lines we should use to speak?
This is America where we have a law known as freedom of speech.
Just twenty lines tell you something about my life in words.
To me that seem completely absurd.
My life is much more than just twenty lines.
Hell I am thirty nine.
And if they except me to sum up thirty nine years in twenty lines
They are complete outside their minds.
How am I suppose to tell you how I nearly died when I was child?
Or how my mother harsh words took away my smile:
In just twenty lines?
Like I said they must be out of their minds.
I guest I can do if I shorten my life.
I don't have to talk about how much I love my future wife.
But her love is the inspiration for a lot of my poems.
So to not talk about her would be wrong.
I have a lot more to say but I'm out of time.
I reach my limit of my twenty lines.

poem by Lore Me34
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Upon the Wall

The first picture is an old black and white of a young couple just started out their life. If you look close you can see all the hope in their eyes.

Next to that hangs a color picture of the same couple a few years older and a baby has been added to the picture, what joy upon their faces.

Now, the next picture is about seven years after that the couples hair has turned slightly grey and the child has grown, but their look of joy has turned to worry I wonder what problem has arose.

Now the next one is the once young child standing proudly in an arm forces' uniform ready to serve his nation.

Then there's the next picture it is a coffin with a flag draped upon it, and the old couple now standing and crying beside it.

I can only imagine that their child now lies in that coffin.

The final picture is similar to first except instead of black and white this has color, and instead of hope the old couple eyes are filled with despair from the harshness of life, and all they have left is the pictures upon the wall.

poem by Lore Me34
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Locked in a Box

I'm in a locked box
and I'm searching
for the key.
The key that
will set me free.
But wait this locked box
is like no other...
the locked box I'm
in is not made from
cardboard, glass,
wood, plastic or
leather.
The locked box I’m in
is made by an alloyed created
by my own hands.
My mind is the locked
box that I'm in.
The bottom is made from
the ghetto streets
I grew up on.

[...] Read more

poem by Lore Me34
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Judgment Day

It is 3: 30 in the morning, and I hear the shovel scraping the sidewalk. I look toward my window and all I could see was the cold white of the snow. I begin to think what is this is the judgment day that I heard the preacher speak of so many times when I was a child. I begin to rewind the video tape of my life that is stored in my memory. I figured if this is judgment day then let me first judge myself. I remember all the fights I got in with Trina (a girl knew when I was a child) because she called me cripple boy. Now yes she was wrong to say that but I still shouldn’t have fought a girl. I recall yelling back at my mom once and there I broke a commandment. (Honor thou mother and father) but wait is it dishonor when She treated me like I was nothing just because I was born with Cerebral Palsy. I guess no matter what I was supposed to honor her for she is my parent. I slept with many women out of wedlock but I had love for them all. Now just when I was sobbing because I was sure I was going to hell I heard God. And he said unto me, “did you ask for forgiveness? ” “Yes Lord” I replied. “Then so you shall be forgiven.” As calm came over me and I shut my eyes to sleep. God said this to me, “Judge yea not and yea shall not be judge. This also mean don’t judge yourself.”

poem by Lore Me34
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