The Lyrical Assassins Brotherhood Poetry

The Lost Children (8/30/11)

Okay Assassins, I think this topic is broad, deep and holds a lot of meaning. It’s time for you to show us your rendition of it. One thing we hold dear to us is our children. They are why we life and they are who we would die for. Good luck and Happy writing.

David Cardenas


111 responses

  1. This has to be one of your very best David. The heart and soul in this write is just amazing. A heartwrending write.

    August 31, 2011 at 11:26 am

    • Thank you Frankie, that means a lot to me. I wanted to move outside my comfort zone and write like I never wrote. I”m glad it came through.


      August 31, 2011 at 11:27 am

      • Poetry{Writer's Son}

        David very deep
        let alone guud
        the words have spoken

        September 7, 2011 at 5:24 pm

      • Thanks a lot Poetry. It means a lot that my friends dig my work.


        September 8, 2011 at 2:31 am

      • Poetry{Writer's Son}

        hey to mi writtin bud
        long tyme no here
        u have been missed

        September 7, 2011 at 5:25 pm

      • Ditto brother , ditto.


        September 8, 2011 at 2:30 am

  2. Jason Anderson

    Powerful and emotionally raw write David. Just tears breaks the heart to know that there are children around the world who feel or who are lost with nowhere to live, no love to be given to, etc. However, the one fact that stands true through all time is that they are God’s children, and his love is truly unconditional, and unbreakable.

    August 31, 2011 at 11:29 am

    • Yes, Jason, this is def true. We are all Gods children and he will never leave or abandon us, even when we abandon Him. I am glad you liked the poem. I can’t wait to see what you do with it.


      August 31, 2011 at 11:31 am

      • MizzFab

        loved your poem david and loving the theme . be back in a bit with someone

        August 31, 2011 at 11:55 am

      • Thanks Mizz Fab and I know your gonna rock it.


        August 31, 2011 at 11:56 am

  3. Jason Anderson

    Hello everyone here at the L.A.B. David I hope this piece is appropiate for the topic. I wrote this a couple weeks back, and it is an issue that inspires me to write about it and give those who suffer from it a voice. Sometimes when a child becomes lost in his/her life, and feels as if they are not loved by their own parents, and abandoned by their true friends, then they find comfort and solace in alcohol, drugs, or any kind of addiction that they can call their new friend. This piece is entitled “Life of Addiction”, and I feel it happens to many children who become lost with the feeling that they have no place to belong.

    Life of Addiction

    When friends have all abandoned the soul
    and loved ones have decided to disown the heart
    the outcast looks for refuge from his/her society
    by escaping to a local bar searching for comfort.

    Finding it in the potent taste of an intoxicating elixir
    they delve their taste buds first into glasses of whiskey
    preparing themselves for the numbness of their senses
    that soon will follow the consumption of more alcohol.

    Next, they move onto an even more dynamic liquid
    exploring the dangerous combination of liquor and pills
    while their thought of mind slowly spirals out of control
    succumbing to the temptation of corruption by hopelessness.

    Overwhelmed with insurmountable pain and heartache
    these innocent victims become intertwined with this life of addiction.

    Written by: Jason Anderson

    August 31, 2011 at 11:37 am

    • I agree Jason. I believe we have to tell our children that we love them, tell them that they are beautiful and remind them they DO have self worth. I would love to see them addicted to life and not the “spirits” of destruction. Thanks for dropping this Jason.

      August 31, 2011 at 11:45 am

      • Jason Anderson

        Thank you David. True words you share within your comment, our children need to know that they are loved every minute of every day by us, they need to hear that they are beautiful in every way, they need to hear that they can do anything they dream to do. Life does sound like a good addiction to me my friend and poetic brother. Thank you again for the caring words, and great to be here at the L.A.B.! 🙂

        August 31, 2011 at 11:48 am

    • MizzFab

      so true jason great job

      August 31, 2011 at 11:54 am

      • Jason Anderson

        Thank you MizzFab. I am proud and glad you enjoyed. God bless always. 🙂

        August 31, 2011 at 11:55 am

    • An excellent and heartfelt look at what drives some to substance abuse. What you say here is so very true Jason, Well done

      August 31, 2011 at 12:19 pm

      • Jason Anderson

        Thank you dearly Frankie. Although I haven’t ever been abandoned by my true friends, or disowned by loving parents, I see the stories told on television about those children who have, and it just breaks my heart. I am writing more rawly and more emotionally than I have done in the past, because although I am quiet in real life, I want to give a voice to those who suffer through my words.

        August 31, 2011 at 2:48 pm

    • Very appropriate Jason, every child needs to feel love in the world and the family that surrounds them. This scribe is magnificent

      August 31, 2011 at 9:05 pm

    • This truly belongs her Jason,,so many of our children lost in a maize of alcohol and drugs,,

      September 1, 2011 at 6:40 am

    • Poetry{Writer's Son}

      U always kill it
      i love this to death
      the pen wrote was needed

      September 7, 2011 at 5:27 pm

  4. Children wander aimlessly
    Throughout histories ages
    In every suffering besieged land
    Through wars on history’s pages

    Children of the lost are damned
    Too young to understand
    What war and famine’s all about
    Trying to live on barren land

    Boys turned into soldiers
    Before their voice has broke
    Instead of school and lessons
    Rocket guns with blazing smoke

    Girls used abused… fodder
    Some not even in their teens
    Spoils of war for victors armies
    No one cares about their screams

    Man’s inhumanity to man
    On huge gigantic scale
    Happening all around the world
    Suffering children gaunt and pale

    We must try to save these children
    No matter what the cost
    They deserve their rightful childhood
    These children of the lost


    August 31, 2011 at 12:10 pm

    • This…. Right here…. Is BEAUTIFUL Frankie. So much truth in this. I love the flow. It gave me goose bumps. Wonderfully done. You took that challenge and kilt it.


      August 31, 2011 at 12:16 pm

      • Thanks David, but you were a tough act to follow! 🙂

        August 31, 2011 at 12:20 pm

    • Jason Anderson

      Another powerful piece for this topic Frankie. Those children who don’t get to enjoy the time of their childhood, and forced into adult situations right away is indeed the lost children. A shame it is for them to go through that.

      August 31, 2011 at 12:33 pm

      • Its so sad Jason and seems to happen in so many ‘Wars’ they have boys and sometimes girls too, toting guns and suffering all sorts of atrosities. Thanks so much.

        September 1, 2011 at 6:51 am

    • Yes,Your majesty, we must try and save these children because lost children today means a lost world for us tomorrow. I love this piece

      August 31, 2011 at 9:07 pm

    • Touching Frankie, and chilling (clarice) Stormy Dormire

      September 1, 2011 at 6:44 am

    • Poetry{Writer's Son}

      Frankie “Queen Of Oz”
      well written
      the pen
      the pad
      neva lost
      u r a pen boss
      much luv

      September 7, 2011 at 5:29 pm

  5. MizzFab

    We are the lost children
    The kids who where never allowed to grow up
    Cause we where born all ready grown
    Too much knowledge
    No innocence
    No childhood games
    Just rough love
    Just tough love
    Just crying out for attention
    We are the lost children born
    to broken homes
    born to a broken world
    trading in childhood games for the real world
    plugged in like mom and dad to the matrix
    and we just beg for more electronics
    we just crave for things to be more instant
    less patients
    and we are all hyped up on high fructose corn syrup
    and out of control
    but don’t have any one to blame
    cause mom and dad aren’t home
    they are always working
    and can’t blame society cause
    they are never wrong
    yet we are lost
    hopping to be found to change the world
    that you helped screw up for us
    we are overly opinionated
    time bombs
    looking for love in all the wrong places
    trying to hurry up and grow before it is our time
    becoming casualties in a war unseen to even most
    we just think its normal
    but slowly killing them off
    watching as these lost kids
    become found by a world you never wanted them apart of
    trading in all common sense for instant gratification
    doing anything to shut them up …………

    August 31, 2011 at 2:09 pm

    • Woooooo-oooooow, This is soooo sweet. I love the honesty and depth in this one. You done hit this one hard on the head!!!! Now, I have to start writing again.


      August 31, 2011 at 2:24 pm

    • Jason Anderson

      Awesome write MizzFab with great truth flowing through your words. I say just let the children who feel lost, enjoy their childhood, let them play games in a safe environment, let them enjoy all that life has to offer them before they grow up and become adults.

      August 31, 2011 at 2:46 pm

    • From one lost child to another, lets go play in the play ground and forget if even for 10 minutes!

      August 31, 2011 at 3:43 pm

    • You always burning the scene up Mizz Fab, you ROCK!

      August 31, 2011 at 9:08 pm

    • A sad fact of life Lesley. The world seems to be moving too fast. Kids growing up before they really have a childhood at all. Awesome INK

      September 1, 2011 at 6:28 am

    • Your words got the program
      The thoughts were garnered
      To show how lost are our children
      In a society racing unchartered
      In a confusion of pressure feed
      Where they are just ghost weed
      Shadows left to their own devices

      September 1, 2011 at 6:56 am

    • Poetry{Writer's Son}

      Mizz Fab
      now this is realer then fiction
      from beginnin to were the pen stops
      illfully wrote

      September 7, 2011 at 5:32 pm

  6. The Land of…..
    Wooden rocking horses,
    lollipops swirled in rainbows,
    floating balloons
    twirling ribbons
    baby dolls and hot-wheel cars

    Swing-sets and slides
    Happy little squeals, screams and laughter heard all around

    Sidewalk chalk and jump-ropes

    Fluffy kittens and lettered building blocks

    This is the land that lost the children
    and this is the land that they dream of.

    August 31, 2011 at 3:53 pm

    • This is beautiful Charlene. I love the imagery and the feeling it projected.


      August 31, 2011 at 4:03 pm

      • Thank you David! I am just getting warmed up. 🙂

        August 31, 2011 at 5:58 pm

    • Jason Anderson

      Beautiful Charlene. Every child has that one special place where they escape to where they feel like the belong, where they feel loved, and where they feel wanted, and that place is within their imaginations. 🙂

      August 31, 2011 at 5:46 pm

      • Thank you Jason. That is exactly what I was portraying here. Children that experience a less then happy childhood search and I think survive because of these places they find to hide in.

        August 31, 2011 at 6:00 pm

    • Lovely Scribe Charlene! The words paint a vivid picture of a life full of glee for children.

      August 31, 2011 at 9:10 pm

    • Yes Charlene, you paint a picture of perfect childhood joys, and not all of us were that privlegded for whatever reason. Excellent INK

      September 1, 2011 at 6:26 am

    • Whoa! I like this

      September 1, 2011 at 6:57 am

    • MizzFab

      beautifullly writ love it charlene

      September 1, 2011 at 12:33 pm

      • Poetry{Writer's Son}

        understood what was wrote
        n man the pic was paited like said
        nnnniiiicccceeee write

        September 7, 2011 at 5:34 pm

  7. The lost children

    I’ve been using the tissue surrounding my sores
    Grasping spinal cords
    And tugging at paralyzed cores
    Infested with sickened teachings leaching at life’s course
    I could be tearing my throat until it explodes
    and your soaked
    with the motionless tears and runaway dreams of children ending in a morgue
    I could be stabbing my womb with my pen
    Until you feel the contractions that could of been
    If that mother would’ve allowed the “fetus” out from within
    And using its remains to write run-ons
    On your grieving repenting transition
    Keeping the already lost imprisoned
    Where the only bars are carved with splinting reminders that starve you with remorse
    Morphed into allowing ignorance to be hereditary
    We’re the lost children within children extracting children
    Yet the similarities are in a distance
    That without a focused sight
    They still think a villain and a civilian are different
    Yet no one wants to start with the parts that are rotting inside
    When their too experienced in appearing existent…. staring outside…

    August 31, 2011 at 6:10 pm

    • Jason Anderson

      Blown me away with this one Roxy. Children having children, simply just doesn’t make sense. Powerful truth in your words my friend and poetic sister. 🙂

      August 31, 2011 at 7:36 pm

    • EMA you are always so artistically dramatic, memorizingly real. This piece is like a stab to the mental conscious of those who pretend not to see

      August 31, 2011 at 9:13 pm

    • Very deep Rox. I love your word usage and your flow. The message sucked me and I was hanging on your every word.


      August 31, 2011 at 10:14 pm

    • You rocked this! Deep into the insides. I look forward to more.

      September 1, 2011 at 3:31 am

    • This write hits like a ton of bricks. So raw and potent Roxy, Love these lines

      ‘Morphed into allowing ignorance to be hereditary
      We’re the lost children within children extracting children’

      And what you say here is the stark truth in so many situations. Well done!

      September 1, 2011 at 6:34 am

    • I knew you the moment you began
      Our Father shouts to all mortal man
      But little do we listen to right or reason
      Thinking that a fetus is just a speck
      A speck that might cause discomfort
      or change a lifestyle so heck
      Take a pill,or operation for the kill
      What’s one little tick in the body

      September 1, 2011 at 7:03 am

    • MizzFab

      woow. i really like your ink .:)

      September 1, 2011 at 12:35 pm

    • Poetry{Writer's Son}

      one word
      jus beautiguud

      September 7, 2011 at 5:35 pm

  8. David!!!.. Your piece is a walk through of aching images and reality..intense and heart pulling!

    Jason : “When friends have all abandoned the soul and loved ones have decided to disown the heart” I haven’t read you in a long minute but this was different from what I have usually read from your pen and I luv’d those lines!

    Frankie: I agree with David.. that piece was beautiful, passionate, and very much true!

    Mz Fab: .. whew.. lol.. You always come strong …”overly opinionated time bombs”.. I don’t often link myself to lines..but SHIT..lmao.. thats just wat it is..

    Charlene..Short/sweet/ and with an impact…i digz!

    August 31, 2011 at 6:24 pm

  9. OMG! David this is a truly touching piece. I feel like one of them and my only toy is my pen, cursed and blessed to play with it over and over again. Truly a work of ink masterpiece.

    August 31, 2011 at 9:03 pm

    • Thanks BP, I can’t wait for you to do what you do. As you see, the bar is set high up in this joint, so take your time, but hurry up!!! lol


      August 31, 2011 at 10:15 pm

  10. God Curse the Child

    I stand here staring through stained glass tears
    At the loss of innocents that traverse throughout the years
    I feel the fears, of those who youth were stolen expeditiously
    Yet there endurance is strong, they adapt to life’s pain repeatedly
    Appearance of a child, mentality of adult, so far from being grown
    Mama may have…
    Papa may have……
    But God cursed the child left to grow on their own

    Youth lost to the streets, a forever story being told
    Children raising themselves, was the only protection from the cold
    Although parents there, they weren’t, a tale we hear endlessly
    I bled hope, in hopes that hope would come, I guess I pretend to see
    That a child nurtured without parents can succeed even when they are truly alone
    Mama may have…
    Papa may have……
    But God cursed the child left to grow on their own

    August 31, 2011 at 10:31 pm

    • Wow spoken with a wise tongue.

      September 1, 2011 at 3:27 am

    • So many of us had to raise ourselves for whatever reason Phoenix and you got to the heart of that child here. Your first line was pure brilliance, and the magic just continued.

      September 1, 2011 at 6:43 am

      • Aww, I’m Blushing in honor of your gracious comment. Thank you Madam Queen

        September 1, 2011 at 2:11 pm

    • Strong piece

      September 1, 2011 at 7:05 am

    • MizzFab

      damn i love this . outstanding bp

      September 1, 2011 at 12:36 pm

      • OH Thank You Much Mizz Fab!

        September 1, 2011 at 2:12 pm

    • Poetry{Writer's Son}

      mi poetic brauh
      it was wrote to read
      so the pen did
      u muderer U

      September 7, 2011 at 5:37 pm

  11. David I liked you poem,,and this is a wonderful forum ,,kudos to all who posted,,Todd Carter and I just wrote a piece today and I would like to post it here,,a bit far out but definetlly on cue,,have to ask him first,,if not I’ll get back with something

    September 1, 2011 at 7:08 am

    • Thank you fever much. I would love to read your poem with Todd, send it to my facebook mail. I am glad you found your way out here and I hope we will see more of you. Welcome to the LAB!!!!


      September 1, 2011 at 12:23 pm

      • Glad you finally thought to invite me

        September 1, 2011 at 6:49 pm

  12. Lost Echoes

    I sit in my room with passion conflicting with desire Yelling hearing my words bounce off the walls I hear passion My pen starts to spit out words that make sense in my head But spoken they bounce off the walls for every one to hear the echo Whispers as I walk by is this chile gone mad I say no All the heart, love, and soul in my words have no place to go They fall on your deaf ears not received well because of your ignorance If you hear closely the pain I speak is the pain for you I wonder why do you sit idle repeating the viscous cycle To blind to see that kids imitate what they see.
    But you yell and cuss them when they do what you do Your mind is so closed that you don’t know the meaning of free Because your born in the ghetto don’t mean future generations Supposed to repeat like a never stopping revolving door. This happens because the example they see is idle. I’m yelling and hearing my words bounce off the walls why do I have to explain the ignorant action of the pusher man. To my 5 year old you still whisper turning your nose up at me because I’m not in the cycle that bounds you called ignorance.
    You walk around with your sagging pants and you satin bed caps with no pride for self. Acting as if life owes you but you to blind to see that you owe life
    Yes I’ve gone mad I mad as hell I’m so mad I’m altering my personal environment
    I refuse to be a statistic and reason for the stereotype hype that y’all get mad at but won’t do anything to prove them wrong and change. Next time I yell and my words bounce of the walls and you catch the echoes listen hear the words may be you will understand.

    September 1, 2011 at 12:36 pm

    • Bravo!. I’m feeling your emotions and the message on this one. That is one of our duties as a poet, to get the reader to feel your pain. I felt it my friend and I am so glad you came by. Welcome to the LAB. You are a powerful poet with great conviction.


      September 1, 2011 at 1:31 pm

    • WOW! So much passion in your words Chas, it screams and commands the attention of the reader. The truth is the truth, at times we blame the youth for something which we gave them as examples. We curse and chastise them never looking in the mirror to see what they see, THEN WE WONDER WHY THEY DON’T LISTEN! Your piece is a passion of truth, words of proof that it begins with us who walked the path. How can we straighten the crooked mile if it is us who bent it in the first place. Magnificent scribe my friend.

      September 1, 2011 at 2:22 pm

    • Its sad that the cycle is a revolving door, brought on by ignorance and cronic pain in the issuee , and mimicked by the idolar, This is a true cycle that needs to be broken// Well inked Chas

      September 1, 2011 at 9:34 pm

    • ‘Next time I yell and my words bounce of the walls and you catch the echoes listen hear the words may be you will understand’

      Powerful write Chas, you got it so right, this is so true. Love your INK

      September 2, 2011 at 4:04 am

  13. Thanks for reading. The thing is the cycle has to be broke. But the key is if people have the sense that it has to start with them

    September 1, 2011 at 2:29 pm

    • Poetry{Writer's Son}

      okay m standin
      clap clap
      snap snap
      guud all the way round

      September 7, 2011 at 5:38 pm


    Listen here boy!
    I’m not going to tell you this again!
    Take your lazy ass and get some work done
    While I sit on my lounge chair and do
    You see, hard work is something you kids no nothing about
    You walk around here thinking homework is all playing the only thing on life route
    While I sit here, collecting welfare, drinking my cold beer
    I’m trying to set an example for you
    All you got is good grades and scholarships
    Any child can succeed in school
    You think I suppose praise you, and thank you for being smart
    HELL NO!!
    I’ve shed blood sweat and tears
    Hustled bean these bean pie for years
    Living off the fat of this land and the wealth of the man
    So you go ahead and think you something special and better than me
    Keep on thinking education is gonna get you ahead of me
    And when you get you so called good job, and pay all them taxes
    I’ll be sitting here, on welfare,
    In my same pitiful lounge chair
    With my cold beer
    Hmmph! Try to school you kids but ya’ll never listen

    September 1, 2011 at 2:41 pm

    • Took years of street schoolin
      To sit and do nothin
      To laze about on taxpayers fat
      Ain’t it somethin how doin nothin
      Can be thought of as tuition
      That introduction into welfare and graph
      Loved your INk black

      September 1, 2011 at 9:28 pm

    • WOW! awesome! So many ‘Parents’ think this way and the kid who has aspirations is laughed at. I love this take on it Phoenix and unfortunately, we do have ‘parents’ with this mindset. Great INK

      September 2, 2011 at 4:07 am

  15. Bravo, David. Whew …. had me with tears and visuals and even feeling the heat but with an empty hopeful heart. i felt for a second in tune with the children of the lost! one of your best to date!

    September 1, 2011 at 3:28 pm

  16. Beware Beware

    She awoke in stark fright in the middle of the night
    The room was cast in a dark yellow light
    Glowing from a sea of young vacant eyed girls
    In soiled and torn dress
    Their skin chalk paste fragments
    Their hair matted crawling with vermin
    Each ones mouth moved in silent cries
    Don’t go anymore to the chapel next door
    Beware beware
    The devils inside in black frocked dress
    We dwell in distress in the alters recess
    He sings Psalms and Hymns in a mellow voice
    But does so with crossed intent
    Its your virtue he’ll steal and toss you aside
    After slitting your throat
    Dead girls tell no tales
    Beware beware
    We know you, your us and we are you
    And we beg you yell, scream and plea
    To the authorities and all who will listen
    This man is evil he hurts little girls
    Put our souls at rest
    His evil to death
    Save the children

    (clarice) 9/01/2011

    September 1, 2011 at 6:44 pm

    • So many ‘men of the cloth’ were really devils in disguise Clarice. This is one powerfully true write. Well done!

      September 2, 2011 at 4:23 am

  17. id give my last breath to let your life be filled with no worries not to go thru the struggles that i have faced throughout my life i sit and pray that you three shall never feel the pain that i have felt and wanted to die from never do i wanna see you hurt be strong and take care of each other forever dont let nuthin seperate you two wether it be mates or money yalls blood is worth more than you can ever profit

    September 1, 2011 at 8:09 pm

    • Great write. Thanks for coming through. Welcome to the LAB.


      September 1, 2011 at 10:00 pm

      • Thanks David. This was based on an actual preacher who preyed on young 8 to 10 year old girls

        September 2, 2011 at 4:05 am

    • Every good mother wants for her children to stay strong and good to each other. I love the heartfelt plea in this INK Paula, well done

      September 2, 2011 at 4:21 am

  18. People Out On The Street.
    By Todd A. Carter and (clarice)

    People out on the street..
    walk around in defeat….
    Beggin’ for blankets but.
    settling for sheets
    Tattered and ragged with blistered feet!
    and all the while the media tries..
    to separate the blue from the skies..
    feeding us lies and alibis..
    while the world cries…
    Not the leaders though….
    acting like they don’t know…

    Down in the ghetto up on the hill
    pills, booze and weed give temporary thrills
    Molly’s got a friend who turns the key
    once more to be preyed upon by demons harsh sea
    Fly to the sky in a ship of maggots
    Eating your soul like bandits
    A table of Angel Dust the tea service
    the glass house crumbles into hells thermos
    Chased by ghosts so real
    in sight sound and feel
    Molly’s friend left her no peace

    The story is the same immersed in the game
    but the game is insane, foolin’ your brain..
    Tricking Jack Spratt into dining on Phat
    Till they watched him Splatt with a rat tat tat..
    We’ve become a calamity of inhumanity…
    while they preach piety to a lost society..
    Try stoppin’ the Lie by stoppin’ the supply..
    how many more mothers must you watch cry..?
    Shedding rivers of tears as her children die
    Schools in session but you forgot how to teach..How to reach
    Up high on your podiums to smirk inside as you preach

    But the trust has been breached..

    The night pushers summon the damned to hells demons,
    Money is loose as the goose is cooked
    to diesel the needle hungry
    But Molly’s past caring , not sharing or despairing
    she’s on a morgue trolley, body gone ghostly..dead !
    The politicians stand contrite vowing to set it all right
    To curb the flow that took Molly’s soul on a slow crack night
    Their right hand raised in pledge,
    left hand greased with greed’s bread
    And down on the street pushers fleet of feet cast their wares
    As the book slams, the lambs damned, casket sealed
    Epitaph reads ‘Will your child be next?’

    Colab by Todd A Carter and Stormy Dormire (the poet clarice)

    September 1, 2011 at 9:22 pm

    • This was awesome. I can tell the differences between your writing styles, but they mess well. I love the depth, the imagery, and the message of this one. Also, I love the story telling. Great write and collab. Thank you for sharing

      September 1, 2011 at 10:04 pm

      • Thank you David,,Todd is an awesome writer,,and really great to work with..We each had an agenda to get across and I think we really accomplished it with this piece,,I am really looking forward to writing more works with him

        September 2, 2011 at 4:09 am

    • Chillingly true. This is the ‘Norm’ for so many of our children. The imagery here is magnificent and the story is one happening all around the world today. Well done guys!

      September 2, 2011 at 6:23 am

  19. I really appreciate this David……Clarice is a real Pleasure to work with..We Think Alike! And her verses really Hit home..She’s a Great writer! I’ll be back to read more later…Awesome page you have here, Thanks for the Forumn 🙂

    September 1, 2011 at 11:24 pm

    • The pleasure is all mine Todd…Your writing is terriffic

      September 2, 2011 at 4:11 am

  20. My Lost Children
    By D-Cipher

    I’ve birthed flows like children from the canal of my soul
    I have elevated building until they were out of control
    I have jotted down masterpieces on paper towels and napkins
    Spitted out rhymes, half asleep, out of dreams then back in
    Concepts have been constructed and laid out like diagrams
    Some have been lost before they even reached my diaphragm
    Paper towels and napkins withered and faded
    Rhymes from dreams disappeared like I never made it
    These are my lost children, poems that never reached the paper
    Lost in between the soul and fate that divides them from the maker
    I continually search for them in dark corners and quiet spaces
    Grasping for rhymes schemes, words, or entire phrases
    They keep slipping through my fingers as time passes me by
    But I’ll keep reaching for them until I’m gone and I pass and I die

    September 2, 2011 at 4:35 am

    • WOW! and I thought that I was the only one who thought of my poems as ‘my kids’ LOL… this is absolutely brilliant David. You have such a fantastically poetic mind and you have really raised the benchmark with this topic. Well done!

      September 2, 2011 at 6:27 am

      • Thank you Frankie. I also feel that way with music or putting out a CD. These are labors of love to us. We birthed them and that’s why we get emotional when people talk bad about our work. “You can say what every you wont about me, but don’t you DARE say anything to my child.” lol. Poets, we are funny creatures, huh?


        September 2, 2011 at 1:32 pm

  21. Lost Words (inspired by David’s write)

    Thousands of them waiting
    Patiently for my return
    My children of the lost
    Lost words in my brain burn

    They know I will return to them
    My love has endless passion
    Never could abandon them
    Their brilliance I must fashion

    Give to them the dignity
    That spot they well deserve
    Dress them up in finery
    To touch the readers nerve

    Make their presence strongly felt
    So proud of what they say
    Drenching the crowd with excellence
    Swooning lost in word foreplay

    My babies lie in folder beds
    Or recline on memories stick
    Kept warm and safely swaddled
    Till the words and inkblots click


    September 2, 2011 at 7:55 am

    • Brilliant! I often go over my poems from my memory stick and replay what I was thinking of when I wrote them. Again, we, poets, are funny creatures, but I wouldn’t change who I was for the world or a Starbuck. lol


      September 2, 2011 at 1:35 pm

      • Amen to that David, we are a weird bunch, but, like you, I wouldn’t want to be any other way. Thanks so much.

        September 3, 2011 at 12:30 am

    • Poetry{Writer's Son}

      the wurds have spoken
      n said…..

      September 7, 2011 at 5:40 pm

  22. David,

    I know I am late but this was hot and I will add something to this.


    September 2, 2011 at 2:43 pm

  23. The Lost Within Our Hearts

    They wonder the streets sad and lonely, finding shelter in whatever alley they happen to wonder into. Every day is a struggle to find food, a shower, to find someplace warm. Lost within a busy world full of uncaring souls, their voices falling silent, engulfed in the loud noises of cars and the talking of others. They cry because they no longer have hope, a home, or a life. Their lives begin to spiral into a downward slope of lies, crime, and death. When will we learn that it is our actions that will affect the children that dwell within our lives? One day it could be our children running around the streets looking to others for the home they feel they never had. Is that what you want? Just to add to the millions and millions we call the lost children? You decide, here and now. It’s up to us to help our children not become another unspoken voice. Don’t let them get lost in your lies. Help them realize, home is in our arms.

    September 3, 2011 at 6:12 am

    • This is beautifully written. Such a wonderful and powerful message.. Great Job Sarah.

      Uncle D

      September 3, 2011 at 6:14 am

    • So very true Sarah. Every child deserves to be loved and for that love to be shown without any reserve. A great write.

      September 3, 2011 at 7:25 am

  24. Poetry{Writer's Son}

    Lost Children (The Blind leadin the blind)

    no care for nohing
    or no one
    refuse the silent
    envy of you
    so they hate you-
    is there self defense
    what ever doesnt make sense.
    The truth is confused
    wrong is right
    dont bump them
    you’ll lose your eyesight-
    never ashamed bloody murder
    is there game
    getting goals accomplished
    is the ignorence
    this is not a lie
    there om the rise.
    Help the community
    its getting worse
    ther the liven society
    violent is who they be
    fight back now
    or dead is what you see.
    If you say this is history
    were living the devils misery
    thats the lost
    thats the blind-
    no more being silent
    stand up
    for the truth
    right now
    not later
    if you have to
    be violent.


    September 7, 2011 at 5:22 pm

    • Wow, “we are living in the devils misery”. That, my brother, is deep.


      September 8, 2011 at 2:32 am

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