was a universe
love hate heaven hell
passion apathy beauty ugliness
freedom captivity strength weakness
innocence and guilt
It travelled back and forth
her albatross was a
perpetual quest for balance
other times she was certain
she wouldn't want it
any other way.
Where evil lives, goodness thrives
If there’s no dead, there’s none alive
Angels come because demons kill
Peace exists because blood was spilled
If there’s no hate, then there’s no love
If there’s no hell, there’s no heaven above
The same pattern seen repeated here
Do you get it yet? It’s all so clear
That if there’s no you, then there’s no me
So stay, don’t go, for this I plea
Take one step, and I’ll be no more –
Don’t come back, you were so sure
And don’t regret, cause you chose this
You’re not someone I’m going to miss
Oh, that’s a lie, but I don’t care
It was just a silly love affair
But if there’s no pain, then there’s no gain
I’ve walked all year through the pouring rain
Finally now, I see the sun
Back then I lost, but now I’ve won
So siplme and sewet
yet so nescesray
our letters juxtaposed
to make words non-imaginary
we read and define
strive to find the line
Where words stop being words
a literary crime
Our slang, out of control
tongues tangled, terrible truth
Txt spk bcmes natrl
It feels so uncouth
but what’s important is the form
of communication we seek
face to face, heart to heart,
a poem so meek
as to lighten the soul
and give hope to the lost
a poem is best
Why don't people write poetry
when they are happy?
Because you don't need to digest happiness,
you just let it wash over you.
What would happen if, instead,
happiness through words
and poured struggle and sorrow
onto our heads
so it dripped down our chins
and leaked in our minds
and slid down our shoulders
and made a puddle of tears at our feet?
Our books would be filled with joy
that generations could read
for years to come.
And they wouldn't think us a boring lot,
but find smiles
in our words,
in our memories.
So the ground would be covered sadness...
it would water the plants,
and strengthen our souls,
and nourish our minds,
and that wouldn't be so bad
Because when it's all said and done...
you can step out of a puddle.
But if a pen is a sword
and the words are it's ink
I'd much prefer those words
to be loved.