Bullet Proof

This stain won’t ever come out;
once it sets, there’s no hope.

One second it wasn’t there,
then the next it was
like one second you were
and now you’re not.

That soul will never return;
once that light dies, there’s no hope.

Thoughts and prayers,
vacant stares,
tears enough to fill
the drying seas
and
still
no
hope.

This hate will never end;
once it sets, there’s no hope.
How could you look her in the eyes?
How were you prepared to die?
How did you find the strength
to pull it?

The answer is clear
hate is alive;
the proof is in the bullet.

© Autumn Siders 2019

I’ve Got a Job for You

It’s been a while since I’ve posted something that is not a poem, but the time has come and I need your help. A career change could be in the cards for me but obviously one wants to make the right choice when it comes to one’s livelihood. These are some jobs a friend and I would might like to pursue. Vote below to help us make the right decision or give your own suggestion!

What is Pride?

What is pride?
Is it the opposite of shame?
Is it living with yourself
and not distributing blame?

Do you wake up in the morning
and love the one you see
staring back from the mirror
yearning to be free?

Is it the smile on your face
or the gesture small or grand?
Is it the love for self
and the love for fellow man?

One thing I can see
is that it’s not parades and flags;
it’s also not some white men
complaining about those fags.

It’s what is in your soul
and the product you create.
It’s in the love you give,
but it’s never in the hate.

© Autumn Siders 2019

Backdrop

Lights fly by
sixty miles per hour
against a darkened sky;
a city filled with towers
and bustling lives
roam the broken streets,
wind cuts like knives,
rain comes down in sheets.
Each pair of feet
has a tale to tell
and each smile you meet
has been through hell.

© Autumn Siders 2019

Never Gone

It’s like walking back in time
in a place where the past
is always present.
Old and new, juxtaposed,
with neither way
leaving anytime soon.
A people so willing to hold on
to their culture, the history
of the place they belong.
It’s a beautiful sight
knowing that yesterday
is never really
gone.

© Autumn Siders 2018

Albany

I never caught your names
but I know that matters not.
You could be Mark and Jane,
Steve and Sue, or Deb and Scott.
You bought me lunch
and we chatted about this and that.
Then we parted ways,
you on a cruise and I to buy a hat.
I got to know you well
even though I missed your names
and your kindness has ensured
I’ll never be the same.

© Autumn Siders 2019