Fresh Meat!

.
.
.
I have a desire that can ignite a fire into a blaze of poetical flames.
It's not the lines or the rhymes that has my attention
nor is it the paper on the table or the pens position.

It's a hunger that I have inside.

I'm not proud to admit
That I have a need for it
My soul maybe strong,
but my flesh is weak.

I need
I want
I desire

FRESH MEAT!

And right now nothing else will do.

I want to hunt it,
capture it,
and kill it, too.

I can see...

ink stains on my hands,
ink blots on my pants,
tears of blood trail down my face,
and in my mouth there's a taste....like flesh baby!

I sense another poet lurking in the woods...
got talent, writing ability good...
gotta a style that's unique

I'm ready to pounce...

FRESH MEAT!

Here comes the ink...

ink stains on my hands,
ink blots on my pants
another poet down...met his fate,
and in my mouth, there's a taste...like flesh baby!

~Flowriter

Remember?

.
.
.
Remember?

It was back in December,

Could've been November,

either way it goes

it was in the dead of winter.

We were out in the back, close to the barn.

Me shoveling snow

And you playing with your imaginary friend Tom

I had done cleared a pathway

And started bailing the hay

Y'all were playing in the mud,

what you thought was mud,

Supposedly baking a cake.

Remember that day?

I had to clean you up,

you were smelling like pure pig shit.

I told you that wasn't mud,

But you wouldn't listen,

And you knew Ma would have a fit.

So, I sprayed you with the hose,

snuck you in the house and changed your clothes.

Actin' like nothin' ever happen while steadily hearin' you yappin'

about how I forgot to clean Tom's toes.

So, I told you Tom had on shoes.

'Member that?

'Member, how when Pa came home

He was all upset and mad

Talkin' about how them city folk done moved into town

And was stealin' the little bit of business he had.

'Member that same night, he found out that a pig got loose

and it was killed by some wild animal

And you said you had nuttin' to do wit' it, but we know the truth.

Since you and dem my 'sponsibility, I got the blame for that

And I got your whoopin' too.

I was mad at you for a long time for that

Pa never let me live that down, said I wasn't 'sponsible 'bout nuttin'

Even wouldn't talk to me for awhile.

If you recognize, after that, he started calling you his favorite child.


But now, as I look back.

I'd do it all again,

cus' you my lil sis and I love you

You brought me a hell lot headaches and butt pains,

followin' me everywhere, you da ball and I da chain.

But if it meant,not being back at this old barn,

standing in the place where you played,

I'd do it all again,but this time, some changes gon’ be made,

Me, You, and Tom gon' play.

I ain’t shoveling no snow or bailin’ no hay.

But I guess now since you dead

and we spread your ashes in the wind,

I just gotta settle for you…

being my imaginary friend.

Miss ya baby girl.

~Flowriter

It's only a workout

.
.
.
It's a struggle.
Pressing on when you are getting pressed on.
Trying to make it through, while being put through.
So much drama.
Folks acting, while you're being real.
Taking advantage of your sincerity...
As an opportunity to steal...
Your joy, your goals, your happiness, your heart...
All the things that make you...you, they rip apart.

I know that it seems grim.
Yet, I refuse to be depressed.
You see, I have HIM.
And HE see's it all.
That which was planned for my demise.
HE uses for my victory, not my fall.
Therefore, I still rise...
In the mist of it all.

I don't even seek vengance or try to defend myself.
You see, my GOD see's it all.
And when times get hard, HE reassures me with HIS help.

HE is my personal trainer/spotter while a train in the gym of life.
HE adds more weight to my situation, so that I can become stronger.
Has me running through hurdles to improve my endurance...
So that I can LAST longer.
And when I think that it is too much for me to take...
HE reaches down and picks up some of the weight.
Puts me in a room to myself, turns up the heat, and yes, it gets hot.
But HE does this so that my muscles can rejuvinate.
Then, it's back to training...my job, is to give it all I got.

So, even though it's a struggle, and at times it may seem hard.
I know that weight is just being added to the bar.

And when people are mean, cold, callous, and taking advantage of me.
I know that I'm being placed in my own little room and HE's...
just turning up the heat.

There will be a time...
That I'll look back... on who I used to be,
That old me... Out of shape, tired, and depressed.
The one that folks used as a welcome mat.

Yes, I'll have to look back.

Because, that isn't going to be where I'm at.

You see, GOD's working on me.

And HE's working on you too.

Getting us in shape.

~Flowriter

Have Mercy

.
.
.
Aching heart and dear spiteful mind
Charmed by hope and hope hopefully blind
Wishing for, dreaming of, aspiring to attain
that which can't be grasped due to its thorns
and immeasurable pain
Is there one that will love me?
In spite of all my flaws
Unconditionally so... keep my heart in awe.
Just a trick of the mind
Truth revealed in time
Death is the only thing that is sure
The only thing that I can claim as mine.
Mysteries of the unknown
and the powers that be
To the God that created it all
what is the purpose that you have set forth for me?
Simple pain and a memory full of regrets
Misery and sorrow, a life of emptiness and complexities
glimpses of joy stolen and death to be cherished?

I wonder.

And what is this desire you have placed in my heart?
Desiring to do your will...
grow closer to you...
altruistic behavior...
and yet,created in flesh
and placed in a world where the opposite is true.

To desire love so much
only to be appeased by the deceiving nature of lust.
Living a life of honesty in a world of lies
where the deceivers prosper and the wicked are the ones they trust.
It's an oxymoron of sorts
To move in the spirit, but live in the flesh.
To be seen as an outcast when I'm giving you my best.

I wonder.

However, another day I'm alive,
so unto I submit my will;
for,this must be according to your plan.
I just pray that your will be done...
Have mercy...
Kill the pain, sadness, sorrow, and lonliness
in this man.

~Flowriter.

Congratulations.... S.E.Y

.
.
.
Shanitah,

What can I give or offer to express how proud I am?
Diamonds, rubies, gold, treasures from a far off land?
None seem to encompass the feelings I hold.
Yet, what I feel can not be bought or sold.
Many have tried to attain it.
Some even abused it.
Some got used to it and its passion grew old.
And still it remains.
Free from the chains.
What is it called?
My heart, my word, my love? It has many names.
And all that it is...
I give it to you.
I ask for nothing in return.
Only that you keep doing what you do.
You... are the spark that was illuminated when I was in the dark.
You... are who was created when two in love embark...
on trip thought to be forever, a journey in bliss together, but only
for the true-ness of life to be revealed. Life is real, not ideal.
You... are the product of joy.
And joy is what you give.
I'm so proud of who you are becoming.
And am amazed by how you chose to live.
So,
what can I give or offer to express how proud I am?
My heart?
That you had from the day you were born before you ever walked on land.
My word?
You are my words in action. Everything I ever dreamed to be. You show me who
I am.
My love?
Planted by God, all according to his plan. For, when I thought that there was
no love to give... You are the reminder of how wrong I am.
And this is my word from the depths of my soul,
I love you with all my heart.
Not for what you have or what you do.
Simply for the soul that you obtain and just being you.

Love,
Daddy

~Flowriter

No Detour Ahead

.
.
.
Dark moon rising,the twinkle of the night is the only light shining.
Cold careless whispers, evil thoughts defining.
Searching for solace, unable to find it, the mind continues pining.
Wanting, hoping, praying for...
Peace, purpose, direction, fulfillment, something more...
Than this bare existence that I've been plagued to explore.

Yet, there's no detour.

Surprisingly new, clouds span the sky with a crimson hew.
Yesterday, gone. Last night, faded away.
Blessed to be refreshed, like the grass is with the morning dew.
And still, on this path I remain... I stay.

There's no detour ahead.

On this path I stroll,
with no one to console.
Tribulation, pain, and strife attacks my being as a whole.
Wanting relief, a focus, something to distract my soul.
Yet, my burden, my yoke is my lesson...to achieving my goal.

I choose not to turn.
I pray that my soul doesn't burn.
and that... my heart doesn't grow cold.
So many unanswered prayers thru closed clenched eyes I stare...
at my future, at my journey, while being tormented by my past.
Therefore, there's...

No detour ahead.

Only with Gods' help will I last.

~Flowriter

Weatherby Plantation

.
.
.
It's been here for years.
Solemn existence, dilapidated walls,and unmanned fields.
House with only two patrons and cat squeals.
There Ms. Caterbury lives with her butler Bugsbee tending to her needs.
Along comes a man, Hugh, with a plan...
to restore what majesty the Weatherby Plantation once obtained,
Atleast he believed.

Ms. Caterbury not only produced, but indulged in her own sour mash.
Listening to her visitors' desires, she told him,
"why don't you go start at that old barn out back".
She had been avoided looking at him,
But as he knelt down by her side, they shared gaze.
at which time he said, "you have beautiful green eyes".
She gave him an askewed grin.
Happy to have a young man grace her presence once more.
Then, he got up and made his way outside.
Moving towards that old barn, occassionally looking back now and again.

The old barn was not only a barn,
It was an old slave quarters, shared by the slaves and horses.
Beds, made of hay for the slaves,
which at times was eaten by the horses in the stalls.
Underneath the barn, much larger than a crawlspace, was a place
where the studs and sometimes the master would produce more spawn.
By raping, taking, and breaking down a family structure
to build up workers for the field.
This is what their wealth was built on.

As Hugh went into this room,
he could see that cats had thoroughly taken over.
They didn't even run away as he got closer.
He could feel their eyes following his every move.
He became highly uncomfortable and constantly was looking over his shoulder.
Watching his every step and covering his nose from the terrible stench.
He reached down to grab what looked like a letter, possibly from a slave or a main house resident.
Only to recieve a frightening scratch from a cat.
Then, a myriad of cat cries as he tried to make his way outside, he tripped over a pair of fetters and nearly broke down the fence.
He knew that his work was cut out for him
and this would be far from quick.

"Forgive me, my good sir, a little help if you don't mind",
Mr. Bugsbee said while standing on a ladder attempting to cut away a branch
from the newly constructed telephone poles' power line.
"Not a problem. Did you know that that barn was overrun with cats?"
Hugh responded, while rubbing his hand and grimacing as he looked back.
"Oddly enough, I'm forbidden to travel in there."

Working together the pair caused a branch to crash to the ground.
Alerting Ms.Caterbury, causing her to come to the door and investigate the sound.

To be continued...