Second Hand Devotion

Here you go playin' with my heart again-
Practicin' your second hand devotion-
Stirrin' me into a lovin' hope again-
You're playin' with my emotion;

Why'd you have to come back anyway?
Messin' with my wore out heart?
Drivin' hope into my lonely soul-
Only-to take it all apart;

You say and do all kinds of lovin' things-
But then you begin to sorta' wear thin-
Actin' bored and our loved you ignore-
And im wonderin' just where your heart has been;

Here you go playin' with my heart again-
Practicin' your second hand devotion-
Stirrin' me into a lovin' hope again-
You're playin' with my emotion;

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poem by Theodora Onken
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I'll Never Understand

Oh the vunerabilities of we mortals...
Influenced by the way the changeable wind blows...
Hurt to the core by the closing of my friends doors...
Oh so hurt-by the New York Rose;

From pictures in the Scrap Book of friends...
One day you're there-next your picture is gone...
Pushed to the back of your Friendship Album---
Wondering-always wondering- what went wrong;

Being challenged physically and emotionally daily...
To the victor so go the spoils?
The Worlds Palm Tree emerges quite bedraggled...
Grown in Brooklyns un-fertile soil? ;

Upper Eastside relevations...! ! !
Leaning near old Spanish town...! ! !
Harlems aspirations redefines my own reality...! ! !
I'm looking up to heaven but with tears of a clown;

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poem by Theodora Onken
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A Darker Shade Of Grey~

No lofty idealizations-
No honorable chivelry spread
Flickering in the candle light
Are passions words-unsaid;
For we know not why...
That guilt oft' desert's one's mind
Leaving null and void a space-
For musings one simply cannot find;
Revelation's oft' spell the course
Of a hidden footsteps grey path
Bathed in a camoflauge of utter pretense
Masking the Ravens inner wrath;
Utterly driven is he...
Who surmises the world of a wrong? ! ?
His own justice he delivers-
With his riddle-filled dirge droned song;
Alas, no lofty idealizations
No honorable chivelry spread
Alone in the muddy waters of his river
That overflow in his delusion filled head;

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poem by Theodora Onken
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Poets Of A Feather

From a circle of inner circumstance i came into being-
From many light years ago of time-
Revolved and returned-hopeful-yet concerned...
I set forth on my mission of rhyme;

So many have inspired my writing...
For many and multiple reasons...
Catching my breath and my very words-
I extend them-as a poet for all seasons;

Come read me in the Dead of Winter...
Come pore over my Springtime Prose...
Peruse me in the Heated Summer...
Or read me as the Fall time grows;

All nestled in the fallen leaves...
Blown crisp through Autumns Northern air...
Burnished-Gold influence emulates...
In poetic verse that my muse dares to bare;

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poem by Theodora Onken
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South 23rd And Barrow

Yesterdays news still chills me to the bone!
A true story of murder here in 1984...
A convenience store clerk was bludgeoned to death
The monster was not caught for 15 years more;
His name is Clifford S. Wright...
Cold Case did a show about him
Sentenced to life-locked up in the Hughs Unit at Gatesville
Hope that this town doesn't have any more characters so grim! ;
But truth be known-they are everywhere...!
It is not just the psychopathy of the big city...
Little towns-all around-raise them...!
When caught they are tried and sentenced without pity! ;
This case really haunts me for some strange reason...
I am not sure of the reasons why...
I never knew him, thank God, or his victim Tracy
But when i read about this crime today, i cry! ;

Murder Scene: 1984
Star Stop Convenience Store

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poem by Theodora Onken
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Halcyon Days Of Our Teddy

Tranquil seas they oft' beckoned to me~

From the deep fathoms yes they did call~

Echo's of a peaceful sapphire ocean~

Reverberated against New Englands vast tidal wall;

Oh the days could be so idyllic~

As were the calm seas of yesterdays lore~

Where happiness 'twas e'er so deep and undeniable~

Back in the days of yore;

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poem by Theodora Onken
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Deviant Pauses~

My time here seems to be unfolding into chaos...
A cold pillow of indifference for you awaits...
With enough to turn you off for a life time...
Enough for your perverted, deviant plate;
Your sexual inuendo's are grossly swollen...
Nausea pervades my stomach and soul-
Your aging chemicals have rewired your synapse's
Your neurons and dendrites are loosing control;
Obviously, you are into nasty wet beds...yuk!
But you would turn blue waiting on me...
You will be sitting 'til Hell freezes over...
You and your crude/vulgar foot fetish legacy;
Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex is all that's on your brain...
Perhaps you are doing way too much crack! ! !
You wouldn't recognize love if you had it and you don't! ! !
My life is full of real love and that is a fact! ! ! ! ;
So, finally get rid of those sick DELUSIONS...!
For, i have no feelings for you at all! ! ! !
Even stopped thinking of you as a friend, long ago...
You make my tummy sick with your gall! ! ! ! ;

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poem by Theodora Onken
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A Case Of Hidden True Colours

I rinsed out all of your past words of praise
When i realized that they were counterfeit;
Your choice of ink changes with your mood!
Are we not all disposable to you?
Ireland tried to warn me of your sting
But i didn't listen...
Until you raked me over the coals for a disclosure
That you embraced and disclosed the following year.
When you would tell me that certain ones were not nice
I believed you...no reason not to.
Your sting has left my heart still swollen and sore!
You are the reason i left...that small cafe on the Seine;
Today, i wonder how far that bile of yours will go.
Reminding me that you cannot make something
Beautiful out of the bad things that you did do...
Or the things that you said about others.
Today, WE realized just how treacherous & smug you really are.

Karma has a funny way of arriving
When you least expect it.

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poem by Theodora Onken
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Emily's Garden

The Red Tulips are so captivating--
And the Dandelions just seem to roar---
Astonishing Mother Earth-who'd just given birth--
To the Daffodils only just moments before;

The Yellow colour is so delightful--
That it all but drowns out the Buttercups hue--
Blazing like no other in the Garden----
They are what give this Garden its majestic view;

Let us not forget the Crocus standing proud---
Nor the Violet or Lilac in the Garden Glen---
A Purple Haze can be sooo insightful---
Most especially with the Lavender 'round the bend;

Oh sooo many colours complete it--
This Garden of the World-upon Gods Green Earth--
That i simply must take time to express it---
To say: 'Thank you' for all the flowers most glorious birth! ;

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poem by Theodora Onken
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The Undertaker

Hes cold-hearted and stoic to a fault-
He oft' appears at ones front door...!
Dressed in black for hidden attack...!
'Tis evil to his very core;

He always leaves his calling card...
Its printed in blood tinged red...! !
Hes the Undertaker with blue-veined wired hands...
Complete with 'delusions of grandeur' in his head;

To say that he is cruel or sinister---
Well, honestly that would be speculation---
But you know there are hints of his malice and maddness...
In words-cleverly buried in sublimation;

For its told he will curse the ground that you walk on...! ! !
Set spells of his magic deemed ever so black...
Seems death 'tis his most fervent destination--
Found in the morbitity of much garnered fact;

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poem by Theodora Onken
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