Never will the raven,
ever fly the same.
The scars on broken wings,
will always remain.
The darkness that follows,
None escape its reach.
We're all touched by shadows,
But shadows can be breached.
All it takes is light,
whether small or dim.
Without light, it's blurry
Where life ends and death begins.
Life; a story you're writing, conscious of the fact or not
We can choose abuse being snake bitten and rot
raising tense stresses into a self-induced blood clot.
Yet I won't relinquish one single red drop, to a moment I don't give consent to
Faith bled through having left school for not wanting to have to wear that bruise
Rent's due, hop out of the pool put on your shoes and proceed with the program
even if black and blue
I can squeeze in a nap first though, yeah? Coo'
Z speaks heat keeping me from lucid, leading me to secretly seek guidance from the druids.
They said I need to travel to a mindspace less polluted.
Dance with your soul outside the confines of institutions.
Stop with the concept of timeframes, and shooting blame at the moon
It is you, and has your back at high noon with a bird's eye view
Respect it's ability to shine true, seemingly alone in the dark.
The evidence grew, pulsating passion pushing you past the place you first found your spark
This is your territory, now is time to chart.
It's all a game, and you write the screenplay ruled even by the thoughts you don't say
Feeding energy into the flame that has lead us unto elevated states.
The ground shakes and high richter reading earthquakes break your world apart
Rocks into sand into dust into nothing, to realize the only truths were not in your brain,
but rather your heart
With every reflex bursting from nerve-endings, there's satisfying new start.
Inside infinity within forever your being is slowly seeing its' mark.
Release the resentment and anger that lays wait in your brow
For existence flows in whatever reflection you allow
Right here you have the choice to either fly or drown
So believe that all that ever matters, is now
will the ebon raven ever soar,
the seven sins tethered bore,
black and rotted to the core,
Covering a brooding door.
A deep regret if you explore,
Good for nothing, evermore.
Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe,
What are my favorite things?
Where do I begin?
It's hard to cut the list down, to my favorite ten
Naturally, at the top, I have my friends and family.
I appreciate them all,
my friends, thanks for having me.
Parents and my siblings, they don't have much choice,
But we put each other first, we come together and rejoice.
And where would we all be if we were all, without love?
It's when I feel the hate, that it's love I'm thinking of.
Cuz love is ever-present, deeply felt and omnipo-tent,
And between that and hate, love will always be my choice and,
With love comes this feeling, it's what the doctor ordered.
For any kind of healing, you should always pay it forward.
Cuz even if you're broke,
you can always give.
I swear that it's no joke, tis the only way to live.
It's the small things that count.
That really make my day.
They bring the sunshine out when we're seeing skies of gray.
We focus so much on life, we forget what really matters.
It's work for life, or loving life,
We should focus on the latter.
All work and no play,
makes life pretty boring.
I play video games and love music, they paint the bestest stories.
I love this sport so much,
some think I'm off my rocker,
So if you really know me, you'll know I'm talking about soccer.
I love all kinds'a food, but nothing beats mexican cuisine
And if you haven't tried some, then where the hell have you been?
It's heaven in your mouth,
And nothing in the world,
can beat my momma's cooking.
Last but not least,
there's Holly, my one and only.
With her in my life, I will never again feel lonely.
She makes life worth living, loves me so, I love my life.
Knowing that one day I'll be her groom, she'll be my wife.
In my possession is a notebook. A special notebook with the ability to kill anybody whose name is written in it. I've had this skill forever, and every kill remembered. I told myself I would use this skill responsibly. So I started putting names in the notebook only of people I thought deserved to be in there. Killers and rapists. Crooked cops and corporate thieves. I've done this so long, it's natural to me now. I've never had a great struggle with it. I always justified it by saying they deserved it. That the world is better off.
There's been a string of murders lately. Horrible, gruesome murders. To this date, the murders were the worst. And at the list of awful humans, this killer was the first, at the top, i wished he'd rot, he'd get caught by honest cops but I digress.
It's probably for the best because I'm justifying again. This killer was the worst.
One starry summer night, after hanging with the guys, my best friend and I were both sitting outside. Both drunk and incoherent, liquor lowered defense, my buddy with excuses, then off he went. He left behind his wallet. I picked it up and followed. It took me a while but I caught him. But the next scene was surprising. The tension kept on rising. My friend was standing over a corpse. Dark red liquid was slowly pouring out. Then suddenly it made sense. My friend was the killer. The one that I was after. Worst of all, the corpse, it was my lover. My rage was quickly growing. My ire surely showing. That's when I reached out for my notebook. But as I grabbed my pen and as I opened the pages...
I stopped and hesitated....
My words are mixed messages,
The work of a madman,
My poems come in hazmats
I'm on a pen and pad ban,
My mind's running like lab rats,
Or running like a black lab,
Crazy like that lab rat's mad hat,
Tell me, did you catch that?
If not, say "no nintendo"
I think that's spanish and it means "no comprehend, yo"..
Yo no comprendo either but how can I under stand?
When I'm sitting over sneakers,
Being loud, I'm never bland,
So let me expand, this man is too big for his own good,
My bark's bigger than my bite,
I got a tree with old-grown wood,
Strong as an oak tree, lil ol' me's never board.
I'm not a playwright but I write many plays on words
And here onwards I vow to always entertain,
I'm a poet, and I know it, that's my middle name.
But actually, it's not. Because I don't have one.
I've grown too sick and tired
Building ire, flames and fire from my hearth,
They feed the inner struggle, daily rumbles, jumbled in my heart,
At times, I lose myself, both in the moment and the essence,
I just wanna be, like Common, but my sense, it lessens me,
I called Death, weak and dying, I arose from fading ashes,
I've learned to live my life more as the present passes.