Poezja

Problema
 
A priceless pearl, she was daddy’s girl, 
until she was lured away from home
by the temptations of the world.
Her dad, a retired policeman, was loyal
to the law, and dutiful to his girl
up to that fateful, stormy night
when he caught her in his sight,
forcing him to make a choice, choosing
between love and his ideals of right;
trading love for the law and its duties. 

She had hidden her habit for a while
behind white lies and an innocent smile,
but ruled by the dictates of desire
an endless, unquenchable fire,
each day, its flames growing higher,
she couldn’t keep herself from her games,
and in life everything has it’s price,
to pay the tag for her using ways
she would have to make a sacrifice,
betraying her dad for the pusher man.
She had planned on the sly with cash stashed
but with the loss of each nickel and dime
she ran herself further into a jamb,
until her bank account was bone dry,
savings drained away by king cocaine. 

Costs mounting, she didn’t know what to do
except to break into her father’s safe
and make off with his cache of jewels,
one at a time, sure he wouldn’t miss them!
Excusing herself into his bedroom
when he was napping or in the basement, 
fooling around with his machines and tools.

She had gotten by, but with the tick of time
nothing can hide, it all comes to light.
Maybe it was the storm brewing that night,
but dad, he forgot something upstairs
and that’s when he found her standing there,
his clown’s hand caught by the cookie jar, 
breaking her dad’s heart, lives torn apart.
He called down to the station, turned her in.
Cuffing her, they hauled her off to the pen. 

Shame doubled by another tragedy,
in jail, she learned dad had lost his sanity.
The absurdity made him lose faith in life.
For love, he committed suicide,
breaking in pain, his life lived in vain,
for upholding the rules of it’s games.

Daddy is now out of the picture, 
but not his girl, held in jail,
her life hell, she is left to suffer.
She sits in torment over her sin,
betrayal of herself as daddy’s girl.
For her, will healing ever begin? 
Or will she burn slow in the heat of her woes?
 
Reflection

While reading Kierkegard’s ‘Fear and Trembling’ 
and writing my memoirs, I fell to reflecting, 
mind meandering into a rambling 
incoherent state, I became stuck between 
law, faith, life and all that it dictates. 

Life is like trying to snare a fox, 
full of absurdity and paradox. 
Since the opening of Pandora’s box, 
only hope leads us on, but the law
sees our flaws, and life is a poem,
with no easy solutions. We come and go
like the rain’s ceaseless cycle,
and the catch is loving these passing shapes,
while realizing they are but charades. 

This life that we all participate in
has held us imprisoned since 
our beginning, through our suffering
we hope to gain a piece of heaven, 
paying lip service to codes, regulations, 
maintaining the illusion of control, 
afraid to break the mold, secrets untold.

But is the law our salvation? 

Maybe dying before death is the key,
but how, when it’s this life tempting me?
Upon living, reflection
is easier than participation. 
I for one, feel unworthy 
of the task as it is given. 

Now that I have spoken,
old crow laughs at the joke.