A Poem today for a One Word Prompt

Dynamite

A destroyer by invention
Never has built or constructed
Tears things apart and people kills

Like food chain pyramid members
Consumer* dynamite would be
With the law and against the law

Come fireworks or revolvers
Sparkler toys or bad guys' weapems 
Depends on whose hands are holding 

Dynamite  
 _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright,  Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Marian in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2019/10/just-one-word-dynamite.html?m=1

* "... groups of organisms that might compose a food chain. ... Producers — bring energy from nonliving sources into the community. (or) Primary consumers — eat the producers, which makes them herbivores in most ..." (Google's answer for a "food chain member" search) 

A Poem for Midweek Motiff

First Hour of My Day

One day after another
are they any different
I'm awake sixteen minutes
before the alarm,

seems there's no snoozing
anymore so I turn it off
and get up

Making the coffee is a matter
of pushing a button,
I prepare it the night before

The TV's on from last night
I dare not turn it off for fear
it won't come on again

My first breakfast is the same
as yesterday and the day
before, the small half of the
granola bar

With the bar and coffee in
hand I settle in the chair
on the left, I always sit there,
my feet go up, network news
just started

Mesmerized I sit chew
swallow and sip
until the bar and coffee are
down, glad I didn't
get up any earlier

Had I done that I would have
heard of the killings here
during the night,
six or sixteen it might
have been,
one police death perhaps

Doesn't count those
killed by car

Watch world threats by bully
leaders, seems they aren't
heeded anymore,
see which country
was invaded while I slept

They talk about coffee being
short--will supply and demand
rule or should we ration

King of Sian takes another wife

and pay the water bill due today

I hobble to the kitchen for
another cuppa, seems I've left
my cane in the loo
retrieve the cane coffee in
hand settle down and wait
for the Mate to awake

Signed, sealed,
first hour of my day
 _ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Rommy in the Poets United   Midweek Motif  at http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2019/10/poets-united-midweek-motif-everyday.html?m=1

 - For more Daily Grind routines for Rommy click on the link above

A Poem of Lament

I want to heal, I want to feel
What I thought was never real
I want to let go of the pain I felt so long
(erase all the pain til it's gone)
I want to heal, I want to feel,
Like I'm close to something real
I want to find something
I've wanted all along
Somewhere I belong
(Somewhere I Belong -- partial lyrics, by Linkin Park)
_ _ _ _ _

For that one and the music playlist by Sanaa at toads:

When There's Nowhere

What will I do
Where will I go
When will I know

Somewhere I belong
even though you've gone

My life is empty without you
I miss your touch and your feel
still I know
Somewhere I belong

Now that you're gone
and I've nothing left to own
nothing left of my feelings
feelings I had for you

But you're not here
and all I have to own

is in this little bottle
I'm taking contents now

And when I awake
there'll be another take
I don't know where it'll be
for sure you won't be

Goodbye now this world
Still even though I won't be
My remains here will be
but I will myself no longer be

You can cry for me now
I'm crying no more

Somewhere I belong
I'm finding it now
but not here ever more 

[Business Insider, 10/10/2019]
_ _ _

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved 
 - I'm linked with Sanaa Rizvi in the Imaginary Garden at  http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2019/10/october-when-poets-dream-lament-and-sing.html?m=1 

An October Prose Poem for the Pantry of Prose at Poets United

The Little Girl at the Dollar Store

I had been reparking the car after letting The Misses out by the door. She went ahead to find some fake flowers for her mother's grave. As I walked into the Dollar Store I asked the clerk where the fake flowers were, but as she started to point the lady was interrupted with, "I'll take you there."

My rescuer was another lady in her late thirties pulling along a little girl about two. I think this little girl had not seen a man using a cane before to help him walk. She may not have seen a man a old as I was either. We will name her LGAT for "little girl about two". 

We found The Misses coming back with eight dark red and twittering on the verge of orange. Very timely for this nice October month.  As the four of us walked rather leisurely to the cashier the mother and The Misses talked of burials and the upcoming Halloween holiday. But LGAT and I were eyeing each other with what is next with us?

I finally broke the ice and asked what she was going do to for Halloween. "Trick or Tweet" was her guarded answer. We didn't talk about me but in a bit I asked her about a costume, she said a witch.

Misses stepped in and asked her if she knew the song, "Witches on their Brooms*" but her answer showed she wasn't into listening to things like that (the only witch song I remembered then was the 1972 Eagles' tune, "Witchy Woman"). She did have several comments about witches that I really could not understand.

The Misses then asked her what she thought I should be so she said a witch also, though I think she wanted me to ride my cane like a broom. 

They left after their credit card was approved, without 'good-byes'. LGAT was walking half backwards half of the time trying to keep an eye on me. I am sure she will talk about us, me the more, and ask questions. I would have liked knowing of her grandparent's status.

LGAT may remember this episode for days, I will remember for years.

*YouTube song, "Witches with their Brooms" link  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2-_wvob4ZEw
   _  _  _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
 - I am linked with Magaly Guerrero in the Poetry Pantry at Poets United, http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2019/10/pantry-of-poetry-and-prose-october-is.html?m=1 

 - Our instructions by Magaly were to write a prose poem of 369 words or less in the vein of the month of October.  I have exactly 369 words including the title.