"The Alphabet Death: XYZ" #New 8/27/2012

“We burn daylight.” ― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

"The Alphabet Death: XYZ"

 

 

 

(A)fter the nightmare,

Romeo sat up shivering in a cold sweat.
The (B)ed, resembled a place where chivalry,
was filled with lies and regrets.
Yet,
Juliet felt (C)onnected but feared,
bad dreams were a sure sign of punishment,
a sure sign of (D)eath.

(E)ach passing Moon,

(F)ueds ended with passionate (G)yrations.
Secret lovers who one day might face,
(H)umiliation, (I)dentification, and a (J)ury,
for their lack of marital dedication.
The door (K)nob to the bathroom,
was pulled firmly,
as she (L)ooked at herself in the (M)irror,
knowing her old life would (N)ever be the same.

Their sins couldn't be any clearer.

She cried, but he couldn't hear her.

Rain unleashed pain on the window,

as he glanced (O)utside,
realizing how bad of a (P)arent and spouse,
he had decided to be.

No longer a true provider,

Romeo (Q)uietly (R)aised another glass,

of Cabernet (S)auvignon, his favorite wine.

Juliet whispered from a distance,

this can't go on any longer,
this is truly the last (T)ime.

(U)nder different circumstances,

this love could be magical not a tragedy.
The affair had become (V)ery complicated,
they dated in college,
now work at the same News Station. 
(W)hile packing each suitcase,
Romeo and Juliet knew,
the escapade would end on this date.
(X)avier, the name of her husband and son,
had sent numerous text,
but her phone was in the Range Rover.
Even if she (Y)earned for Romeo again,
in her heart she knew the FUN was over.

The (Z)oo trip for next week was cancelled,

as they drove together from the hotel.
Fog disrupted his vision,
the car slid and made a collision,
floating off the bridge,
10 minutes from their "gig".                                   

The End

(@) Tony Hanes Poetry 2012

“We Were Almost Unbreakable” #New 8/24/2012

"Were Were Almost Unbreakable"

-A Rainbow can form after the ugliest storms. -Tony Hanes

Indeed, "We Were Almost Unbreakable",
until a "Tornado" formed,
slightly above our "foundation".
Even with a stable union,
the Twister nearly defeated all retaliation.
This sudden tragedy followed an "Earthquake",
that started to shake our lives,
 and communication.
Fifteen months ago,
 we came close to death from a "Landslide",
but persistence and resiliency,
 allowed us to "survive".


Indeed, "We Were Almost Unbreakable",
looking back at a "Tsunami",
that I thought was inescapable.
A few mistakes were made,
I know I damaged you.
Even with comfort through rigid "Storms",
you inflicted some pain on me "2".
Not as much as the last "Blizzard",
it almost left me with a frozen heart.
The "Avalanche" that damaged our home,
nearly tore us completely apart.
Frigid times for a "Heat wave",
we anticipated a new start.


Indeed, "We Were Almost Unbreakable",
volcanic eruptions,
pushed you to vacate the premises,
and living arrangements for a few.
Six weeks later keys battled door locks,
as a "Hurricane",
knocked down our "clocks".
You know what "time" it is again,
"Natural Disasters" are worse outside,
than a little "Precipitation" from within.
In the end,
this umbrella is strong,
because our bond as true friends.
We did "Break" a little bit,
we did struggle and "Bend".


Indeed, "We Were Almost Unbreakable",
as "Droughts" hit every now and then.
Fighting dehydration,
is what lovers face sometimes.
As we continue to thirst for each other,
the "Weather Forecast",
can be unpredictable and unkind.
Future plans can be damaged
The past we can't rewind
Present moments of "Sunshine",
make "Cloudy" moments subside.
You ride on this ship together,
and fight the waves and tide.
When "Cyclones" hit,
you tighten your "GRIP",
and preserve each other’s "Pride".

The End

@Tony Hanes Poetry 2012

"The Homeless White Man" -Inspired by true event #8/22/2012

"The Homeless White Man"

-Inspired by true event...

I gave twenty dollars to a "homeless white man" today.
An older couple with skin opposite of mine,
concentrated their vision on our confrontation.
Generations have passed on, but survival of the fittest,
has no pigmentation.
The "homeless white man”,
was simply trying to avoid starvation.


Assistance would come with no denigration,
as this man's life is a "mystery" to me.
Standing adjacently,
his dirty shirt reflected "The Dukes of Hazzard",
and a notable car called "The General Lee".
A true definition of the south was a reality,
and both of our history to some degree.
The "homeless white man",
reached out his hand,
and whispered the words..."I'm Hungry".


This situation felt like payback,
in the form of "indirect" reparations.
Visions of 4 little girls,
 killed by "bombs" at 16th Street Baptist Church,
still "Hurts".
I pulled my empty hand back in temporary anger.
The "homeless white man" was a stranger,
and not responsible for his fathers indiscretions.
I know that a giving heart and an open mind,
will sustain your "every" blessing,
and "evolve" the times.


How can our "Flag Wave High",
with people eating and living on the streets?
It's like they sit there letting time fly,
feeling abandoned and "ready to die"...I almost "Cry".
To deny these tears would justify,
the pain this nation has placed on us.
We are divided by "Politics" and "Religion",
but the "God of Life",
resides within our "Spirit".
As a green piece of paper,
with Andrew Jackson's image changed hands,
the "homeless white man" said "Bless You",
while the gas pump stopped.
His shadow started to disappear into the night.
I try to do what's right but this fight,
is what we all should be "Voting" for.
No longer can we ignore,
the less fortunate...."The Poor".

The End

 (c) Tony Hanes Poetry 2012

"Obama's Birth Certificate" #8/20/2012

“Obama’s Birth Certificate"

"We did not vote an individual in office who was not a citizen. This "Birther" conversation should have never been discussed in the mainstream. I believe America looked foolish to the rest of the world for entertaining this topic. If we did elect a President who is truly not a legal citizen, the Federal Government would be responsible for the negligence. -Tony Hanes, Poet.


The other day I visualized a "Birth Certificate",
but most of the words,
were covered in "blood".
"Stains" smeared signatures to the point,
where several "names" were no longer legible.
Letters disseminated into the atmosphere,
away from remains that rest on slave burial grounds.
This location is where identification was never proof,
 that you were ever truly accepted,
as a legal member of this "Nation".
In the "eyes" of many,
you will never be the "Commander-in-Chief",
regardless of Sunday morning prayers,
and shared spiritual "beliefs".

I heard echoes in the night from citizens,
who argue that The President,
is not a "True American",
and that he doesn't share the same Religion.
Maybe the name "Hussein",
remind skeptics of Osama bin Laden,
because Ann Dunham,
decided to call her child Barack Obama.

From Hawaii to Harvard,
dedication towards academics,
can now be inspiration to youth of "All Colors".
Where is your Birth Certificate Sir?
Your mother,
might have misplaced these papers,
with your Grandparents who raised you.
Now they degrade you with aggressive plans,
to replace you.
A lot of people "hate" you.

We are all renting space in the United States,
where "The Natives" were so gracious.
Ships sailed from Europe, Africa and Asia,
now we have "A Constitution",
written by illegal aliens.
Your life and the life of all Americans,
is worth more than a "Birth Certificate",
or "Death Certificate".
Our past is tainted with racism and violence,
but I "stand"  firm ready for War,
with my "Commander-In Chief",
with no "Vital Records" in hand,
only a "belief" in Freedom,
the equality of "MAN".

The End

"We are all renting space in the United States." -Tony Hanes, Poet

"She Died In My Lap" 8/14/2012 #New

"She Died In My Lap"

In my lap, the Warden called for,
23 hour days of "solitary confinement".
A comfort where feelings were once free,
now suffocate in a miserable place.
Light years from grace,
oxygen struggles but begins to evaporate.
As the temperature start to rise in this "cell",
we understood this was life without bail.
These were Prison walls not jail,
a little closer to eternal flames,
a little closer to "Hell".
Mouth to mouth can't sustain us,
as kinetic energy,
ignite our transition into "vapor".

Operation lockdown assured no "escape".
I created these gates.
Now you CRY in "seclusion".
In my lap you lose more and more life,
as I hold your nose far from air,
far from light.
There are no "civil rights",
that can change this plight.

This road of direction we tread down,
is worth more than my mention.
Rather, my complete attention;
but I'm stuck in my own pit of demise.
The Gas Chamber or Lethal Injection,
would be most fitting, not a surprise.
I don't deserve to ever love,
or "rise" again.
I guess for the 100th time I can say,
I'm "sorry"...again.


The Judge,
provided us both with a steep sentence.
You were an accessory to my crime,
you had no idea of my intentions.
Laws were broken
You were my "Trophy"
You were my "Token"
As your heart stops beating,
I hope for a "painful" death for myself.
In my lap,
you shed one last tear.
Your body now rest in the “infirmary".
I wish you never heard of me.
This burglary,
force me to dangle over a bridge,
called "tomorrow".
I sit in the "Yard" forever cursed,
with my new lover....."Sorrow"

The End

"The Priest" #8/8/2012

"The Priest"

In 1911 A.D. you were given privileges,
to guide nations through meditation, prayer,
and positive communication.
The documentation you studied,
must have been tainted before translation.
Authors of these manuscripts,
must have been drunk,
from elaborate wine tastings.
Dedicated families dating back centuries,
have been affected,
from countless acts of indiscretions.

The deceit and "Unnatural" lifestyle,
cannot be overlooked.
You are a spiritual crook,
stealing the lives and pride of so many.
Crimes ignored so they hide in "eternity".
How can you stand in front of others,
preaching about eternity?

This letter to your "Institution",
is not just about Religion.
An oath was given,
for you to carry out divine services.
We should be blessed,
not stressed from the lack of currency,
and child pornography.
Do we worship only what can be purchased?
The doctrines suppose to be inspired,
by "the father", "the son", and "the holy ghost".
Voices from molested children,
cry out in horror,
 like they saw "the holy ghost".


Man is one with "Nature" therefore;
living life with an unnecessary sacrifice,
can only lead to temptation.
The Priest,
you deny the feast of a beautiful creation.
An eternal sexual "vacation",
cause many of you to prey on the youth,
throughout various "nations".
Thousands of years have passed,
with false representation.
The Priest,
I'm asking on behalf of the "people",
for your Resignation.

The End

"The Last Minute In Your Arms" #Revised 8/8/2012

"The Last Minute In Your Arms"

Watching your shadow,
disappear into the darkness of night,
led me to the conclusion that your face,
would never grace my love again.
My "love" is weak.
My "love" is six feet deep.
As you take a few more steps from this union,
I realize there will be no more reunions.

No more family dinners in which dessert,
always waited for the kids to sleep.
These times were sweet.
Our seeds,
now suffer from your retreat.
How do I explain these "lonely eyes" to them?
How do you explain "Him"?
I guess 11pm,
was "The Last Minute In Your Arms".

Lies arrived last year when you were so called,
"stressed out".
You said you needed a break.
What about all of that space?
Goody Powders for the heartaches and headaches.
Oh yeah,
I too swallowed a few.
Aleve and Bayer could never defeat,
"Migraines" this marriage constructed.
Our kid’s joy,
temporarily destructed.

Your vowels were flawed.
I remember,
You had to write them "twice".
I was the fool.
You had to write them all night.
Guess you never believed your own words.
When the girls grow up,
they will not believe your own words.
This arrangement is for the "birds".

I'll take full custody.
After this fling,
you can "never" come back to me.
My two little princesses,
will never be deprived.
I cried but I'm still alive.
Real men cry in the dark,
but I see the light.
We take flight in the morning,
"The Last Minute In Your Arms",
came before "Midnight".
Goodnight...

The End

"The Crack Baby Blues" 8/7/2012

"The Crack Baby Blues"

I sing "The Crack Baby Blues" with an invisible choir,
sharing "notes" of reckless desire.
We formed an alliance in 84',
 but when 85' hit,
you abruptly became the streets biggest "Hit".
No longer a secret,
you depleted families,
that were once considered complete.
Once considered unique.


Visiting us from a foreign land,
your arrival was not by chance,
or an accident.
A Government experiment gone wrong,
this song has a deadly "Remix".
A "Fix" that weakened an entire generation.
This Nation,
prompted another Civil War.
Ghetto Poems,
scream echoes of pain,
that flow through the veins of addicts.
I sing "The Crack Baby Blues".
Yellow brick roads of tragic addictions.
Lives that once mimicked art,
now a beautiful picture departed.


Ten minutes of Euphoria,
transform bright souls,
into "Night Of The Living Baseheads".
The poor hide from life's mirrors,
leaving their souls faceless.
I sing "The Crack Baby Blues".
Harmonizing in pain,
psychosis becomes a reality.
Hallucinations,
are shared with the audience.
They clap in unison.
Numerous "Fatalities"


People yearn for an "Encore".
The "Fiends" shake for more.
I sing "The Crack Baby Blues" with a tear.
Each year,
we're told to forget about this era.
Rich Americans,
exit the auditorium together,
"humming" enough time has passed,
this is no excuse for poverty and crime.
Tell that to Ronald Reagan and Oliver North,
while young men and woman continue dying,
or being sent up North.

 The End

"F*ck Toys" by Tony Hanes 8/2/2012

“Fuck Toy”

A dial tone echoed relentless anger,

after the words “Fuck Off”,

disseminated into the atmosphere.

No longer content with being a “Fuck Toy”,

Toya spit inebriated venom into his right ear.

A tear hit her Double D Blouse,

as life on the plantation was no longer allowed.

“Joy” was yearned but incomplete as a “Fuck Toy”.

After Party text messages,

influenced by a “Liquored” mentality,

always lead to the usual sexual favors,

their only “TRUE” reality.

The eventual passion to love this man,

was struck by segregation.

Only the water fountain of “Lust”,

could be shared in this situation.

Ted sat on the corner of his bed,

the corner of an emotional ledge.

In his hand,

the Blackberry stood motionless.

Afraid of true commitment,

He knew his “Fuck Toy” was now broken.

Chances of tasting that pudding again,

appeared to be hopeless.

She wanted him more devoted.

He wanted her more focused,

on his selfish desires.

A forest fire started to retreat.

Wood burns,

as smoke escapes his chimney.

Waking up from a deep sleep,

Ted realized “Love” was his new enemy.

The “Fuck Toy” had moved on.

“Fuck Toys” are temporary-

“Fuck Toys” at times are necessary-

“Fuck Toys” serve a purpose,

and generally become stagnant in “Time”.

When the Titanic hit the “Iceberg”,

We know there will be a sinking of the ship.

Each person serves a role in our lives,

Most “Fuck Toys” are destroyed,

never manifesting into a “Relationship”

The End