Poetry Collection #2: “Untitled #1”, “Move Over Sisyphus” and “Mom”

Untitled #1
A thousand miles divided us when you said
“You’re my sunshine”, but I’m no sun;
I am the cold, distant moon.
It is only because of you, my incandescent star,
That I, too, can gleam

Move Over Sisyphus
Tired,
Unduly ragged
From nights of debauchery
Fueled by the bottles of liquor,
Made by men of unfulfilled dreams
Whose wages are spent on having the company
Of a woman with her own dreams; together they fake love
In a moment of passion to ease the notion of their mutual isolation.

Idle,
Painfully so,
Growing more aware
Of the clocks incessant ticking,
Which with each tick brings us all closer
To the end of a life that may have no ultimate purpose
Other than to live in such a way to inspire another person
To break out of the idle and into a world unburdened creation.

Move.
Slow at first
But move nonetheless
To keep the inner critic at bay
And eventually to bring him to his knees
And surrender. Show him man can conquer his fears
Even when they have slowed him to paralysis for generations.

Because humankind’s inherent purpose, however unstated or evaded
Is to create in such away that the world, maybe the universe
Might pause and take note for even just a moment
That humankind can flourish in conditions
Which everyone supposed was
Adverse to Humankind.
In our futile rebellion
We prove our
Freedom.

Mom
You found out your son,
Who was called “Happy Baby” as a toddler,
Suffered from depression
Through his prose.

I hadn’t the nerve to tell you
That I had been suffering in such a way
That made me see everything as a wasteland
When, in fact, the barren land was my soul.

And I’m sorry.
Sorry that I was devastated by desolation
And didn’t bother to tell you once that I ached.
But you deserved better.

Instead of a “Happy Baby” you got an aloof son,
Who prefers abrasive silence over arduous expression.
And though we have our differences,
I love you.

The woman birthed me,
And nourished me when I was weak
Comforted me when difficulties unparalleled reared their hydra-heads…

There is no need to worry now.

Your son is well,
Ready to face any Goliath with a his bare hands,
Ready move so steadfast to make even mountains envious.
I stand tall because of you, Mom.

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16 thoughts on “Poetry Collection #2: “Untitled #1”, “Move Over Sisyphus” and “Mom”

  1. I love it. I’m learning so much about you. The last one got me, teary-eyed. I enjoyed reading them, nephew. Great job. Keep up the great work. I’m glad your ready to face Goliath. Go get em. Ready for more

    Liked by 1 person

  2. These words are life. Yours is a purposeful writing that gives the reader a few words he can shortly look at but remember for a long time. Honestly, this blog is one of the best I’ve seen so far. And yes, we should all be ready to face our own Goliaths or fears because fear is not real, only the product of our thoughts of future. Hoping to read more from you soon!

    Liked by 1 person

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