Skip to main content

My Love Is Not

My love is not...

My love is not for the skeptical
for the terminally unimpressible
My love is not for the jaded
for the ones who like the world segregated

my love is not for the lovers of money
for those who think my pain is funny
my love is not for those who don't
for those who can't or for those who won't

My love is not for gangsta bytches
that only love thugs with whips and switches
my love is not for the material girl
for those who choose their fathers world

My love is not for the weak
for those who act hard but are too soft to speak
my love is not for the imitator
for those who can't see the visibilificator

My love is not for the fake
for those who can't create
My love is not for anything untrue...
my love is for you...

Ruminations at Twilight: Poetry Exploring the Sacred


Popular posts from this blog

The 5 People Who Make Life Heaven

They listen when you need to talk Talk when you need to listen They know your darkness Let you know theirs Without judgement and expectation You can talk to them about how you see things They don't get angry or anxious when you disagree Trust you enough to say what they really think Read tweets and novels Never make you beg or grovel Won't allow it Remind you that you're better than that Lay some of their burden on you Let you behind their wall Feel welcome behind yours You feel each other with heart and mind Even if you don't explain yourself  They get you You get them These are the ones that make life worth living Make you love to be alive Reflect you to you Teach and learn Some days the lead singer Some days the band These are the ones You can count on one hand (c) Ron Kennedy 

Poetry Tree

I saw no birds grieve No fallen leaves No branches on the ground None made a sound It wasn’t rotten It didn’t die in a storm Capitalism came In its progress form To take one of my last  Best refuges from me I may be the only one who noticed The death of my poetry tree.


Photo by  Gustavo Spindula  on  Unsplash Sometimes I check my neck to see if it’s still Half red, half dirty and half um Andrew, I’m still gonna need some Help with that Math We live in an era where Before you even speak an opinion You might be attacked For what you have Or don’t How you look What you might say How you act Who you love Where you live That you give a damn about facts That you empathize with those cast As villains in the common narrative Or even that you don’t naturally fall in line Being of your own mind Self-educated Self meditated Spiritually in moments sublime I lay on my back & count the stars listening to For Now Thinking on philosophies that rhyme Alone & feeling fine.