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Loved by Angels or Delivered to Demons

Sean Michael, April 2017

Even as the angels’ wings disturb the air around me
I hear the demons scream
Somewhere
Somehow they’ve found me

Doubt strikes first
And I stumble
As insecurity delivers a blow
I begin to crumble
I try to speak
But I just mumble

As the words depart my breath
I question their sanity
Just another test
Of my patience for life’s monotony

I’m standing on the precipice
And if I jump
I wonder if the angels will catch me
Or let me fall to demons below
Teeth gnashing

 

Posted for  dVerse Poets, Open Link Night #199, June 29, 2017

In Twenty-Eight Years

Sean Michael, 2014

Twenty-eight years ago, I came screaming into this realm
expecting nothing and knowing only love.
Ignorant of the trials and tribulations that lay in wait for me
blinking the world into existence.
Reveling in the comfort of my mother’s arms,
somehow recognizing her flushed and weary countenance.
Knowing not the evil that would take me in its icy embrace,
having no discernment of the anger that would build
strongholds in my heart.
Unforeseeable pain.
Unaware that I’d be a victim,
not knowing I’d be a victimizer.

Twenty-eight years ago, I only reveled in the comfort of my mother’s arms,
somehow recognizing her flushed and weary countenance,
innocently blinking the world into existence.
I wonder now about that little child,
ignorant of evil and versed in love,
forsaken and forgotten by a man
with strife and bitterness in his heart.

 

Posted for  dVerse Poets, Open Link Night #195, May 4, 2017

Counterfeit Smiles

Sean Michael, November, 2011

I WANTED TO APOLOGIZE FOR ALL MY LIES
I’VE BECOME WHAT I DESPISE
OH MY GOD!!
WHERE’S MY DADDY AT ?
PROBABLY SMOKIN CRACK
OR GETTING SMACKED BACK
WHAT TYPE OF LIFE IS THAT?
WHERES YOUR FAMILY AT?
MATTER OF FACT
THE WELFARE CHECK IS GONE
WENT STRAIGHT TO THE VEINS
WHITE CLOUDS TO THE BRAIN
AND I’M HUNGRY MAN
GOTTA COME UP WITH A NEW PLAN
MAMA YOU NEED ANOTHER MAN
ONE THAT CAN SEE THE GRAND SCEME OF THINGS
SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE EVERYTHING I’M SAYING
DOESN’T EVEN MEAN A THING
PUT ON MY TOUGH FACE CUZ I DON’T FEAR A THING
BUT INSIDE I’M TREMBLING LIKE A CHILD
MY MIND IS RUNNING WILD
PUT ON A MASK AND FLASH EM…
COUNTERFEIT SMILES…

Sandy Hook

Sean Michael, September 2016

It started as a dream
It ended with a scream
in the darkness
Say “Hello” to the brokenhearted
Say “Goodbye” to the dearly departed

The sound of a gun
echoes through the hall
people stop
people run
people drop
people crawl

We’ve got nothing to say
except “that’s a damn shame”
and turn the other cheek
while the world goes insane
Politicians lie as they line their pockets
Children die
Mother’s cry
as another casket’s dropping

All I see is hate
All I feel is anger
In my own town
I feel like a stranger
My babies in school
Are they in danger?
Maybe I’m just paranoid
but can you really blame me?

Turn on the news
What do you see?
A murder mystery
pain and misery

image from latintimes.com

N.B. Sandy Hook Shooting

Posted for  dVerse Poets, Open Link Night #194, April 20, 2017

Contest Winner

Thank you to all the entrants of the title contest for your creative, serious, good, and funny suggestions! I was actually able to narrow it down to three titles. Choosing only one was more difficult, but then, I saw two of those could be combined to create one title that really stood out to me.

The titles I selected were:

“Babel, Lost City” from Grace and
“Pouvons-nous Nous Libérer?” from Anahi Martinez

I’d originally planned to have only one winner, but instead have two. Congrats to Grace and to Anahi. A copy of “Stygian” will be on its way to you both, as soon as you let me know where to send it at Mad_Poet@aol.com.

Now, I’ll tell you a little more about why I liked these two titles, separately and together.

In the lost city of Babel, one language was spoken and everyone was pretty much the same, so they conspired together to build a tower that reached heaven. The French part of the title translates to “Can we free ourselves?” When God saw what the people were doing he said, “Let’s spread them out and confuse the languages…” Thus, having a title in both English and French is perfect.

Thanks for participating, this was fun! Perhaps we’ll have another contest one day.

This Question I Ask Myself

Sean Michael, February 2017

Should I defend my blunders in the face of hypocrisy—
or will I be steadfast and silent?

Should I trend in the shadows of a leader I do not wish to follow—
or would I be wise to forge my own path and depart the tyrant’s?

Would I have the strength to stand for what I believe even if I’m left standing alone—
or would I blend into the crowd and be lost in the numbers?

Can I believe in myself?!

Will I give into the lies?!

Will I give into the voice that tells me I’ll fail?!

Or will I try?!

These questions linger in my mind—
but the answers are not there.

No, the answers to these questions lie far beyond the fear.

 

Posted for  dVerse Poets, Open Link Night #193, April 6, 2017

A Privilege and A Gift

The word prison almost always brings with it a negative connotation, but please allow me to share with you some of the positive things that I’ve been trying to do. I have traded in crime for college courses, and I have traded in drugs to become the co-facilitator of a self-help group designed to aid in the recovery of criminals and gang members who wish to break the cycle of addiction.

I have published several short stories and poems in magazines, as well as in my book, Stygian, and I am currently working on several more projects. Most recently, I’ve become involved with a program called “Prison Letters for our Struggling Youth,” whose mission is to take the honest and sincere writings of prisoners and share them with “at-risk” youth with the hope of effecting positive change in their lives.

My personal mission is to use my gift of the written word and touch even one life to help someone get through the same tragedies I experienced as a child. I’ve finished my autobiography Lost Child, Broken Man which shares these events and poses the question of redemption. I am currently working on a novel called Broken Homes, and I have started a non-fiction booklet about the realities of gangs, drugs, crimes, and prison.

To effectively complete these tasks and touch the lives of others, I need the requisite supplies, such as typewriter ribbons and white-out, paper and pens, journals, postage, and money to purchase author’s copies of the books for donations and giveaways. Any money I earn from sales will be reinvested in supplies and in marketing and promotion.

By purchasing a copy of Stygian, you will have invested your money not only in a good read but also in me, so that I may expand my gift of the written word. None of us can ever change the world, but we can make changes ourselves and help others who need change. As long as I am able to think and write, I will continue to do so, and I will do it to put a smile on another person’s face, give them something to relate to, shock them, inform them, or scare their socks off (I love Horror). Because, in the wise words of Amy Tan, “Writing is an extreme privilege, but it is also a gift. It’s a gift to yourself and the gift of giving a story to someone.”

I thank you for your time and consideration. May the rest of your day be awesome.

THE MAD POET

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