Welcome to theOmen's Blog

The reconciliation of a person's birth certificate and death certificate is the realization of a well lived life or a catastrophic one... #ayodeletim ayodeletim.com - Segun Ayodele

MAYBE YOU SAW ME Maybe you saw me the rat at the art show strung-out greasy addicted probably thought I was the artist but I wouldn't put that shit on a wall Two suits and three dresses stare doe-eyed bleeding care at a frame with a hopeless girl inside sitting on a crumbling porch on the corner of church and Dixon that girl's name is keesha I gave her, her first strawberry picked from the trash where I fed dirty dishes into "the whale" who's detergent burned the skin off my fingers I bought weed from a cop there once right on that stoop true story and next to that in black and white that's the second to third floor stairwell of  Prescott  apartments one day I found a bra on those stairs a faded purple double-d cup and I made the piss and beer and mold that you can't smell in that picture I put my fist through a wall in that building over a stripper the wall was stuffed with newspapers I read them late

Down and Out Who cares to notice the penniless? Who cares how they became ripen? Griping you to their desperate chest, So jamed and bashed crossing to beg, Limps and crawls from spot to spot. . My chest flames to such doleful pleas, Clutching hooves strolling thier way, Smokes my heart to hear them cry out, ‘‘Oh how will I succeed, Oh how do I live?” “I crave you with every breath I got in me” Old and weary, young and lanky, Resting beneath bridges for warmth,  Feasting on scrap wearing tatters, Without buddies, no family, nor us, No one seem to see or care little. Having nothing that matters to the rich, Pleased with what they receive with hope,  From break to night, twenty four seven, Lay noisy tummys by slumpy gutters, If they disappeared who cares where to? Miserable basking on side walks, Faces pale like out of oxygen for days, Targets of hunger, cold and epidemic, A smile can warm a paupers lifetime, Let them in, they knock, share your little. By Bassem Ayamore

The VISITOR Meeting his own ghost on the stairway 
coming down 
the old man stood transfixed on the landing the evening sun slanting in  the empty echo rooms
 whispering  of yesterdays passed away
 the ghost stood looking down
  a knowing smile in the shadows 
passed between them high over head, above the house
, a hawk circled riding the wind, waiting for the moment to fold his wings then descend spiraling into the conversation the moment is complete By David Wetzel

Life of a Con Life IN Porverty IS NO Good FOR Nobody It’s like a convict that’s getting old Life in streets is no good for nobody. Good when you are high and bad when you are down low Treat her bad and she will treat you right And treat her good she is pain Life is never simple  But a labyrinth of choices and confusion Choices Choices are illusions that seem to flitter here and there  Is there free will and no strings attached?  Though it seems  We are all playing our roles in this play And we play them too well I was once innocent like you A dreamer A lover  A man of Peace  Until life happened  But I needed to live  I needed medicine for my daughter I needed food for my stomach I needed A Way Out Was I wrong to do what I had to do? Convict Such an ugly word  Derogatory Deprecating As life unfolds you will learn to see meaning  Meaning in my words  Meaning in my choices  If I had any  Because my friend I would have chosen better  If there were better choices That is my life as a con

MUST LEAVE Sorry baby sorry honey, The trip i must embark, So narrow and hallow, Is the road tomprrow, Yet must leave for us. It's just for a moment, Just a little while afar, To toil for warmer days, Ahead before time halts. All my bones to rest. My heart with you i give To watch and protect, You from the forseen, Safest unill my return, To part no more. By Bassem Ayamore