Childlike honesty of showing with your tears!

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While there is nothing nice about being childish,
For it tastes like the worst kind of immature radish,
There is something supremely glorious about being childlike,
This is how to tame all behavior that is misleadingly wild like,
How I miss the purity of childlike innocence,
Without all the human masks of reticence,

For the child it's all about whatever it takes to truly communicate,
Even though they might finally miscommunicate,
As they show you with their tears,
The pain which fuels their fears,
How I miss the openness in the hugs,
Without the potential for emotional tugs,
Gosh I miss those most honest shrugs,
From all who behave like bed bugs,

I miss the unadulterated innocence from the child,
Not the childish innocence from the adult child.

Brussels © February 2015 afesehngwaHilary

When dams of heaven burst at the seams!

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The dams of heaven,
Over this little village space,
Bursting angrily at the seams,
Overflowing its bounds,
Down in a gusty wall of rain,
Flooding every square inch of land,
While not too far from here,
And in many parts of the world,
Lands are parched and dying of thirst,
Their throats ache in the sting of prolonged dryness,
Having never drunk in ages,
Yet the unwelcome excess in this place,
Wreaking havoc yet untold,
Cannot be channeled to quench that nearby thirst,
What a paradox,
A paradox of conflicting sorts.

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Brussels © February 2015 afesehngwaHilary

Treated from willingness to be abused!

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The argument was heated,

Shortly after he came in and greeted,

I reminded him of how I had been mistreated,

Emphasized the many ways I had been cheated,

I only paused to ask him to be seated,

I didn’t want his feet wobbling in shock from all the truth darts being meted,

I laid bare all the machismo which had grown over the years to be very conceited,

Always feeling threatened and trying to compete even though I was not one to have competed,

Like the prisoner without a crime I was repeatedly verbally and physically maltreated,

I made it clear in unequivocal terms that the jail term was served and will never be repeated,

Before my pent up tirade was completed I told him before I retreated,

That it didn’t matter that all these years during his one man competitions I had been defeated,

I found my lost feet, recovered my stifled voice and have been treated,

I was sure there was no shadow or shred of doubt in his mind that I was serious.

... their badly emotionally bruised children who had witnessed their tumultuous relationship cruise through rough seas to this point watched in disbelief... it was an all too important teachable moment and message to them from Mom that abuse is not okay... not even when it is tolerated... not even when it is a woman abusing a man... knowing her children are clever she told them, "never ever is it okay to abuse anybody whomsoever - there is a better sustainable way through patient empathetic dialogue and strategies!" She later struggled through a tortured and tortuous night agonizing whether it was the right thing to let her children watch that, wondering if there wasn't a better way to teach them the same.

Luxembourg © February 2015 afesehngwaHilary

The lies which tore us apart!

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I am so sorry we are now so apart,
Two halves which mischievously used to be one part,
Life now seems so cruelly empty and bare,
Since you left and brought  away your loving and care,
Loneliness surrounds as I look around,
I still remember that first day you came to the orbit of my concern,
Lit a fire in me that grew violently and made me burn,

You turned around and proposal after proposal your spurned,
Then together we learned as our love unfurled like a fern,
You said the only reason you were initially stern,
Was to ensure that every ounce of your love I will earn,
It was all a lie and it probably was the way you acted it out,
Effortlessly acting each scene of each act and winning every bout,

Somehow the lies you told  and lived and the lies you donned,
Irresistibly charmed everything in me and left me conned,
Many years later even though I know of all the lies I am here,
On the same stage where I first met you feeling empty and bare,
Remembering the moment when you started acting strange,
And when it became evident that you had radically changed,

But when you stopped the lies and your love was true,
I had drifted apart and the distance true through and through,
I am standing stranded here,
And the stage is bare without your loving care,
Today I bring the curtains down and exit the stage,
Turn over a new page and liberate myself from this cage,
Leaving behind the longing for ability to go back again,
And find a way to more effectively ease your pain.

... his tears flowing like a river he walked away... from the past which hemmed him in...

Brussels © January 2015 afesehngwaHilary

The skin deep magic of botox!

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I have news for you,

Just in case you haven't realized,
The magic of botox is only skin deep,
The internal vital organs are beyond its superficial reach,

While you may fool the world,

With a botox induced plasticity of your brand new face,

Designed to cheat time and mock its assaults on fragile skin,

Beyond the skin its effects are not felt,

It cannot erase the inner scars of passing time,

Like it or not,
The clock is ticking within,
While externally you look as fake as an ancient British wig.

Brussels © January 2015 afesehngwaHilary

That folly which makes you foolishly proud!

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What is it that makes your head swell and makes you feel so proud?
Makes you feel you earned a right to stand out in the crowd,
Is it because you think you're so much more intelligent and so very bright,
Believe me there are many so bright if they were light,
They will make you feel like night,
What is it which makes you feel so right?
Is it because you were born in royalty,
And many a people owe you mighty loyalty?
What did you do to be where you are?
To ride in a big and fancy car,
To go to school,
And learn the craft of many tools,
What part do you play in keeping your heart beat?
You could have been born in a jungle and be lion's meat,
What role did you play in not being born in the heart of war,
What role in being born in a family where you can always get some more?
Don't you dare tell me it's hard work when you should know the truth,
Are you working harder than the kid who needs to earn a wage at age five,
Rise before the cock crows with clinical precision when the clock chimes five,
Do you work harder than the countless children who have to walk for countless miles,
With loads on their heads many times heavier than their weights?
Who do you work harder than?

Even though you might work hard,
Many work a lot harder but their life's still so very hard,
What is it you did to prevent you from being born in a cave,
What kept you away from the place lethally hit by the Tsunami wave?
You could have been a genius born without a chance to go to school,
A genius born into crime with cocaine in your veins and the mind of a fool,
You could have been still birthed,
My friend you have no control over these events,
Same as you have no control over the sleep event,
So what makes you think you are absolutely in charge?
You are to some good degree,
The product of something independent and beyond your choice of pedigree,
So do the world a favor and check that foolish pride, 
Which still sure goes before a fall!

Brussels © January 2015 afesehngwaHilary

The only allowed bribe!

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My stomach grumbles,
And barks and growls in furious protesting sounds,
I try in vain to ignore the menacing barks,
But that makes it groan in louder threats,
I still manage to pretend to ignore them,
Then a serious Selma like rioting accompanies the groans,

There was no food around,
But the protests grew so loud and got so raucous and serious I had to stop,
Stop all I was doing and go bribe my stomach into temporary silence,
I rushed to a distant nearest restaurant where I was served a proper meal,
To restore quickly falling energy levels,

This is what hard work does to strength,
It saps it and for me,
This is the only time when a bribe is allowed,
When a rioting stomach is bribed with a meal,
Served by honest means. 

Brussels © January 2015 afesehngwaHilary