activism, dark fiction, dark poems, dark poetry, dark writing, Fiction, freedom, K.G. Bethlehem, life, literature, love, poems, poetry, Uncategorized, writer, writing

Relapse (Friday Night Poetry Corner #184)

Manila: My City at War | Ayala Museum
Ayala Museum
“Now but a valley of shudders was Manila, where the famine had become visible as bloated bodies collapsed on the sidewalks.”

 

 

Good evening ladies and gentleman and welcome to another Friday Night Poetry Corner. This week will be about me! Well, my poem at least. This is an older joint I wrote back in 2002 called “Relapse, a killa among men.” The voice in this could be recognizable to some in different parts of their life, as a welcoming thought or a reminder of something horrible.

It’s up to your own imagination. Thanks again for stopping by.

 

 

Relapse
(a killa’ among men)

rotten alliance I
believed called
KAM
dangerous acts preceding
others…
you asked for excitement
and received, KAM
craving for attention,
suitable compliance.
I see,
naw, you conceived
the egoism of
society, but still
sought for
KAM

whirlwind
by breeze
upfront
waterspout
to rainfall
doubt
trouble ground
shakes
prolonged light
fight sheet storms
of landslide pawns,
in spirit is
KAM

you adore wonders, without
insight of its
origins…

Who is KAM?
Certain leaders who grin
and speak with no honor?

Naive masses
cries “whatever”
souljahs gripe for meaning beyond
the information war.

hands in Bushes
marvels
the WAR.

 

                                                                                By K.G. Bethlehem

`

adventure, exploring, K.G. Bethlehem, life, literature, Uncategorized, US Virgin Islands, writer, writing

On Location Series #9 US Virgin Islands (part III)

The continuing journey around the island was enjoyable. As you can see from the first set of pictures, the location of St. Thomas was again, vastly beautiful. We ate lunch at the top of a resort overlooking the bay. The name of the resort escapes me but I spoke on it from the last entry. The voyage up top by the lift that overlooks the Coastal Bay. That was where I tasted the famous “Bushwacker” drink in which I can say with confidence that their island rum was the center of it. It was strong and I am glad I didn’t drive. My stamina was strong for drinking hard liquor but who would want to chance driving eh? 

Not me.

The rest of the pictures took this journey to St. Johns Island. St. Johns is an island were businesses, major franchises were non-existent. This island had very few grocery stores, I only counted two and they were half the size of your local CVS or Walgreens. The children on the island go to school on St. Thomas and another thing to note—close to half of the island is owned by the National Park Service of the United States. You will see more of my adventure in another part of this series.

This day, in particular, it was Labor Day and we were the front center of its annual parade. We saw young children participating, performing their routine and doing a marvelous job in my opinion. We saw other inhabits of the island showcasing their own respective enthusiasm. It ended at a local fair where local vendors who sold jewellery, food and other items unique to the island. A car show was present along with the 80s’ R&B playing in the background. Unfortunately, I did not take any photos are shot videos of the car show. I was awaiting our food and the preparation took too long for my liking. 

Overall it was very insightful, viewing the residents’ interactions amongst themselves. Several times being called a Yankee due to living on the mainland. I somewhat felt like an outsider but other respects I didn’t. They spoke to me as my brothers and sisters back home do. I saw a majority of the townsfolks, on St. Johns and St. Thomas who looks like me and it felt relaxing that I didn’t have to act differently. I didn’t have to reserve myself among non-black due to the stereotypical notion of a violent black man from the system of white supremacy. I hope this system of racism will be destroyed one day as the old guard are dying off from old age and some would hope from influences. 

Any note, I have enjoyed the stay and will venture more into the US Virgin Islands.

activism, children, life, literature, Uncategorized, writer, writing

The Children (Friday Night Poetry Corner #183)

Manchester Safeguarding Children Board – Manchester Safeguarding …
Manchester Safeguarding Boards

 

 

Good evening everyone and welcome again to another Friday Night Poetry Corner. This week, this poem is talking about our children in a working society. This message needs to be heard and understood, there isn’t any excuse to not to read. The name of this poem is called “The Children” written by strugglinglife. I know you will enjoy this work and when you have time, stop by her page for a few to read more of her wonderful work.

thefamilysoul

This poem is dedicated to the innocent lives of young children lost, in an era where their perpetrators are those close to them. Whilst government mulls about increasing the protection of the innocent, this poem highlights their insecurities and the loss of those who have gone too soon. 

They come to play,

They come to play

A shaded game of hues in hurt,

They play and play,

Like children discovering a new trend

Lessons unknown,

They do not listen…listen…listen

The velvet hurt, begins to flow.

When does it end, does it at all

They say it’s a game, you know

Hush…hush…be it not so

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