Pen'D Poem: Jan 27- Feb 2

 Jeff McCollum-Campbell
Night Terrors
Fight great-white
Nightmares.
Gray light
Like gray-white light hairs
Feel pain
Like paint-dried bite tears.
'Til brain fries drain eyes dry tears.
No shame cry right here...

'Cuz this part's the sad one.
If you think you got too many problems
Then add one...

You could be like me.
On his way ready to leave...

See the track on my sleeve?
No more make-up
can cover
all this grief.





Exclusive Pen'D Narrative: Written by Jeff McCollum-Campbell

The suicide was never an act.  I longed for it. The knowledge that one day, soon, my internal void would finally consume me had pulled me through each day.  It kept my mind off of that drowning feeling, like my entire world was being engulfed in quicksand so fine that it was transparent.  Suffocating, I would fight and struggle each day at first, but it became pointless.  The drugs helped to dull the pain.  They came with a complete party package, and I was the star!  Bump after bloody-nosed bump I targeted those terrible thoughts of hopelessness and despair.  With each twist of the clouded pilo [pipe with a bubbled tip] I watched as my sharded life dispersed into vapors.  I inhaled poisonous fumes with tears of sadness and joy. 
     Sadness- for the ones who I loved and was leaving behind.
     Joy- for the end to my suffering that I could already feel begin to trickle its way down my nerve endings.
     Shock struck as my veins felt full of glass-like lacerations.  Fear hit as my heart nearly exploded out of my chest.  Still, joy... a quick pain was better than the insanity of living on what felt like death row.  Then, everything began to fade to black. 
     "I guess this is goodnight." I was barely able to whisper.
     They all thought that kindness drove me to give all of my belongings away.  To some extent they were right, but the vultures kept coming.  As if the blood-shot, tear crusted eyes did not tell my story.
    "Oh, you don't want that projector?  I'll take it off your hands!"
     ...and they gladly did.  They took it all.  My money, my clothes, everything that I had slaved for was gone. 
     "...but they were my friends!  They were the only ones who stuck through my sickness!"  I thought.  Ha!!!
     So there I was - drained, with nothing and no one... dying.  My sliding glass door flew open and the barricade that I had set up came crashing down.  It was my mother.  Somehow, as I was weaving in and out of consciousness, I must have called her.  She was accompanied by the police and paramedics who took me to get the help that I needed.
     Funny thing about depression, sometimes all it takes is one person to show you that they care and you can start your path to recovery.
Jeff McCollum-Campbell

Pen'D Poem Jan 13-20

So I am a dreamer.
I dream not just for my life but yours.
I dream about you finding love again.
I dream about your new careers.
Your abundance.
Your joy.
Your new identity.
But above all I dream that you have compassion.
Love for me and for yourself.
I dream that you smile at yourself in the mirror.
I dream of your walks on the beach.
I dream your dreams.
I might sound silly.
But I can't help but dream of your life reentry, of your new passions and interest.
But above all I dream of mending your broken heart.
And helping you putting all the pieces together.
Creating a brand new beginning.
I can't help it, as I know the kind of life that you can have. I have seen the magic of a new start.
I have seen the specialness of a second first.
You can fall in love harder.
You can jump higher.
But above all you can feel more and want more than you have ever wanted before.
Second chapters are meant to be happier.
They are meant to be dreamier.
So please help me dream bigger dreams for you.
Will you?

Christina

Pen'D Poem Jan 6 -12

BEGUILE / abstain

Beguile my best sense of self, my sincere essence waits

as I do so my feelings a bait triple-fold

I spit gold but receive tin that sometimes grows to nickel, but NEVER turns platinum

Twisted is the recourse but I have become silly putty-That stage most women go thru

Its a sickness that's most entertaining to the numb nutt men that are waiting...

This is a moment

Biding my time until I affix my eyes on thine that will BEGUILE n Bewilder

I soar in that highest of highs..a molten bittersweet lozenge He is!

But that kiss----------The tongue tie that doesn't insinuate innocence, pure abandon

Imminent heartbreak that grueling ritual

repetitive nature

EATS SWEET, BUT SWALLOWS SICKLY

smooth batter that transforms to prickly

pine needles to quills---THE FURTHER U LET HIM SPILL, into u

the realization is: It is not only milky secretions u've let into ure VENUS

ITS dudes soul; although, he may lie down as dead bodies in the ground

He ECHOES eternal

They fail to know its a demise

with they're cocks throbbng and wondering eyes

Hollow locust shells

In numbers WE r plentiful ourselves

Strength in numbers, so lets rebel...the fear of loneliness repels

we rever into indentured snails

I say WE....women.......Us

unite n purge this festering wound

We WILL be maimed if its not soon.

Sha Bella






NEW YEAR's WEEK 2013! Pen'D Poem Dec 30-Jan 5


January 4, 2013

The Reason I rhyme…. 

So many of us half way crooks wit good looks…. Central booked… First time felons… The statistics constantly swelling… School of Hard Knock lessons… Forced confessions… Prolonged criminal court sessions… Self respect we have to keep caressing…Forget all the second guessing...Hard to escape our labeled professions…… Parole or probation both life long situations…No stock options… Our only alternative is to develop self entrepreneurship creations…Running out of time… No more of it left to be wasting...

No more poison seeping through our pores…No more glass pipe indention's in our jaws… No more victims of these flawed laws… Living with the illusion of reformed correction… in a system in need of a whole lot of inspection… Released to the world facing rejection after rejection… Strike two the first one our complexion… So close… Yet so far from perfection…On the outside looking in… Robbed of a second chance to win…

Premeditated reservations for life in and out of the pen… Hungry and thirsty we hit the streets in our quest to eat… Only to be thrown back in the lions den…For our lives we constantly have to compete… Bodies full of ink… Screaming to the world what we think…Hyped off the stereotypes... We masturbate on Skype… Black and proud but losing our will to fight… All through the night we dream of seeing the light… Our everyday inner city plight…

Landscape reversal like herbs we get seduced to the suburbs… Changing places with the nerds…We seemed have forgotten everything we ever learned…Like the Churches that got boomed and burned…Am way pass ready for my turn…The ink from pen my last chance to earn… Obsessed with shine… While being lifelong witnesses to the awful things we do and they do to our kind… As we age like fine wine…Only to wake up one day to the realization we just ran out of time…

The Reason I rhyme…
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