The Art of Word-Jacking

“Today, we sing the hymns of freedom,
as we gather at the gates of justice…”
~ Afzal Moolla

Scribbled Verse

‘Freedom’.

‘Justice’.

‘Democracy’.

Three words,

lost to us.

Plundered by the few,

stripped naked and ravaged,

pummeled into submission.

Three words,

taken from us.

Usurped so casually,

stolen and cleaved,

left meaningless.

Three words,

strangled and violated.

No more.

Not today.

Today, we reclaim the ideals,

the billion voices,

all straining to be heard.

Today, we take back our truth,

our collective aspiration,

still yearning for the harvest.

Today, we sing the hymns of freedom,

as we gather at the gates of justice,

while mourning the paralysis of democracy.

‘Freedom’.

‘Justice’.

‘Democracy’.

Three words,

that we shall wrest back.

Three words,

that have nurtured our dreams.

‘Freedom’.

‘Justice’.

‘Democracy’.

Three words,

for which we all have bled.

Three words,

word-jacked and abused,

that are ours once more.

‘Freedom’.

‘Justice’.

‘Democracy’.

Three words,

that shall remain tightly wrapped,

around our collective core

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TO OUR FLAG

I love this. Beautiful poem.

FULL OF ROSES INSPIRATIONALS

Ruby red, the color of the stripes He bore
Draped across, waving glory, at attention I adored
White Crystal color, were the stripes and stars
Displaying his presence and light
A symbol that lights up the night
Ocean blue the water that cleanses our souls
The back drop to the stars we’ve come to know
His banner over us, flaps in the wind
I hear the words, the little boy said
One nation under God, as his tears fell
For his father he lost, fighting for our freedom
It’s the reason a hero is declared
Prepared for us the life we now live
What one lifes sacrifice can give
I see a symbol of God, laid over his father
As to say you are honored
He gave His life for us, as did Christ
The ultimate sacrifice and glory
Leaving a longing, a pride that pushes us through
What he…

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Who’s to Say

By the wonderful Amy, an amazing woman.

Picking Up the Pieces

Who’s to say

it wasn’t so bad

except he who hasn’t lived it –

the thunderous debasement and shuddering jolts

jetting from his lips,

rocketing through the tense fog buffering the air between

on a mission

programmed to pierce through the heart

proficiently

stealthily

mercilessly through flesh with a verbal sword

sharpened by hate and coated with poisonous barbs

who’s to say

I could have stopped him

except he who hasn’t been on the losing side

of a battle with the devil no one is ever equipped to win –

the cataclysmic aftershocks and shock waves

falling from his fists like sledgehammers

against my skull

emitting blinding flashes of light before my eyes

and heaving me down

reeling

spinning

drowning into the tumult –

jack hammers on fire

tearing through flesh

searing the bone

with an inferno of pain

who’s to say

I was free to leave at any time

except…

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Don’t Quit

A message for all those who are struggling today. ❤

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Grandad

I can’t believe February 19th marked fifteen years since my beloved Grandad passed away. I still haven’t gotten over it, and still cry all these years later. He was taken too soon… I’m no poet (and certainly don’t claim to be!), but this is for the most wonderful man I have ever known.

It’s hard to believe how much time had flown by,

I had no idea that your time was nigh.

The guilt I carry has struck me to the core,

I wish I had the chance to see you once more.

I’ll never forget that fateful day,

A call to tell me you had gone away.

Why did you go Grandad? I wasn’t ready,

You were the one who held the family firm and steady.

Personality and kindness; your light shone bright

Your death came as a shock, you had lost the fight.

I flew to Jamaica, hoping it wasn’t true,

But it was, and there was nothing I could do.

I saw you for the last time, laying there, still

I love and miss you Grandad, forever, I always will.

❤

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