Home consist of 8.8 million entities encased in urban anima- Enigmatically, 16.16 million eyes don’t see me, 16.16 million feet walk past without sincere acknowledgement- judgmental stares reside in the eyes that blind, nothing has the chance to become righteous, maybe nothing every could in such an dismal environment? courageously, I fought for this nation, ‘home of the brave’ has cavernous elucidation at these moments, could this keen knowledge be the ‘song of perpetuity’, what does it mean, not to be seen by many, when such an abundance of apertures are stuck in a fastened position of ‘apathetic abyss’, ‘home is where the heart is’, but how does that heart beat continuously without earthen compassion for those of us whom call these cold streets ‘HOME’?
About the Creator
Tyronn Rahda Monroe
poet, violinist, musician, short story writer, furniture builder, artist, photographer.....etc....and recently trying to write screenplays. Covid has dictated that I must travel down exciting, new roads of prosperity to survive financially.
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Summer Storm
A piquancy of estival solstice epoch, Central to the realms of a four quire, The taste of sodium in the air heightens the flowery knowledge of summer’s educ, Love is riding the tropical waves of nudiustertain whispers of a ulotrichous navire, A gobbledygook of heat and colors combine with an acute sweaty passionate taste of agastopia, Sandy saunters serendipitously awaken beached islands of lonely, The holding of hands encourage Ethiopian utopia, Will this be the genial catalysts of integrate abalone, A pool of beachballs bounce jubilee internally, Change is anticipatedly arriving like summer vacation, Bring in this wave close to your blossom maternally, Watch closely from the lifeguard station, Love can be chaotically warm, Like a summer storm....
By Tyronn Rahda Monroe3 years ago in Poets
I AM
This is not who I thought I would be. Before my family was captured and forced into slavery, I had aspirations of becoming a wealthy business owner or possibly a scholar and philosopher. Becoming a warrior was the furthest thing from my mind. Unfortunately, our Roman conquerors had other plans.
By Mark Gagnonabout 18 hours ago in Fiction
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