A lonely Vietnamese

These twenty passed something years
I stand as an isolated stooge
no one loved me
when in Vietnam
none loves even now
though I am out of it
somehow

where is God
O some one say
does he too not love
my way

but then each day
I get messages
come son allure
don't worry
you have no job only
I am as lonely
laying on times floor

The night they killed my wife and son,
a part of me was stripped away.
Do they believe that they have won?
Revenge is mine to have, I say.
I vow that all of them will pay!
For all their sins, I plan to sting
and settle scores without delay.
They'll feel the pain my wrath will bring!

The sun raced the other way
as you chased us
through our tiny green pastures
to spare us from
the hand of that bottle.

I never asked why we stopped running,
returned to keep those pastures;
why we plowed those fields with our souls
so we could plant new seedlings each season
to watch them wither and die because the bottle
wouldn’t share the rain.

I didn’t ask why your hands never sat on my head
like a stocking cap protecting my ears
from the blizzards wintered from that bottle.

in the room
a rose under glass
stories bound
to page in a book
turn the cover
one must
look

winter winds
howl like
pack of wolves

...

You say your there for me
but when I really open up to you , you just don't want to see
you act like you care
but when I have these thoughts and break downs I ring and your never there

you don't know what It's like, to want to die
take the rope, fuck life and hold on tight
when I tell you I want to die, it's no word of a lie
its all building up, I'm weak, I just want to surrender the fight

Our favourite, Gizmo, died this week.
For wildlife, things seem sad and bleak,
as chemicals are in our creek.
But who will speak, but who will speak?

Four years we've watched him with his pod -
the baby of the dolphin squad.
The River Swan's own demigod.
Our children awed, our children awed

They found him floating near Melville.
The cause of death gives me a chill -
infection from waste overspill.
So quiet and still, so quiet and still.

mother i am deeply depressed
panels of the old liver automation
disquited with ascending from gloom
to easen the path of the hearse

the briars of solitude recedes the night
the great discharges in the tomb therein be
mural Cynthia and her heavenly accomplices
sponge with gall of their luminescence

each night in apocryphal solecisms
ill omens the monument in the towers cruet
throttles to raze the scarlet pimpernel
and window tresses dream the ghastly entourage

.
All gather 'round, I have a tale
(you may, 'though, find it hard to trust)
the sort to make the strongest pale.
I swear, declare it happened thus.
You'll think I need a therapist,
and 'though so many won't believe
and call it simply bovine dust,
I don't set out to try deceive.

Hear now the tale of Claire of Tieraton.
A Princess of the realm beloved by all
and though he wished as Lord’s do for a son,
her father loved her as he were her thrall.
An heir she was and raised in such a Hall
as few among the populace had seen.
She lived beneath Torgándon’s great Salt Wall,
but ne’er did Claire e’er think herself a Queen.

Adventures did she have and one by one
they pressed her fighting spirit toward a fall,
but each time, cheating death, she rose undone.
She faced Ulceriss and her witch’s Call
that caused the mob to turn and vicious maul.
Each brother fought while Claire’s rich, glitt’ring sheen
brought to a stand still all the angry mall,
but ne’er did Claire e’er think herself a Queen.

‘Twas Misserat who men all chose to shun.
Another of the Naw, but scarcely all
and Claire has faced the wight without the sun.
Beneath a pounding rain, a witch wrought squall,
she heard the first bright sound of Heaven’s call.
Despair she fought as would a Lord that’s keen
and chose to leap a cliff to dare the fall,
but ne’er did Claire e’er think herself a Queen.

There’s more to tell, these simple tales aren’t all.
The hints I share are nothing like I’ve seen
and I’ve been with her~ backs against the wall
and ne’er did Claire e’er think herself a Queen.