The sun enveloped in a black shroud
The dead of night hardly makes a sound:
Hopeless with silent cry's of the midnight sky,
The reproach of lost souls ;
Dark and misty, the clouds just an outline,
Of the glare eyes of the night .
Vague twinkling stars, in the dusty moonshine;
An eager bright star showing its position
Or else be lost in the misty cauldron.
Passionless grief of despair with no one who cares ,
Lost in the wind , One knows to never cross
The road's at night on foot .
The hooting of the night owls crying out
To the lighted moon ,
Distant frogs croak in shining black pools
A lonely dog howls;
A thud, a bump, a scrape on glass to get away
From what is hunting with anguish grief for you and me;
Is that foot steps I hear on the stone path?
Those creaking roof timbers,
Sure gives one the shivers , cold wind's ,silent stars
Of the midnight sky's ,
A time for quiet reflection ,deep thought and introspection;
The conscience magnified something hurtful said,
Rash actions and regret.
A sad love song that taken the heart deeper in with more
Pain with glaring eye's like you want to die ,
Sleep comes after midnight with so much on your mind ,
Respite for the weary intellect
Until the great yellow hope rises in the sky ,
Spreading its cheerful warm ray
Heralding a promising new day.
Hopeless , and grief moved on with the midnight sky's
Lover's song's of a nasty goodbye's
Passionless incredulous despair , half taught anguish Midnight air,
Another day and another night moved on why your heart
Still hangs on to what was and not to what is .
There are a few types of music
Music when you're happy
Music when you're sad
Music that makes you think of someone
And music that doesn't mean anything to you
Until certain things happen In your life
And it just moves you, speaks to you.
Pushes you through the through
Glides you through the smooth
Music that I listen to when I'm only thinking of you.
But I never tried poetry
And now I realize
Poetry can be used
To explain love in great detail
An image in a readers mind
But love can mean many things
To the writer.
So the reader has to relate to it in someway
Dig deep within the lines
It's like finding a diamond in the rubble
But when they do their eyes come alive.
See a poem has to flow
Tell a story in someway
Poems that only make sense to me
My mind is thinking of new
Lines every, single, day
See I never wrote poetry before I came here.
I see it as a land of peoples
Story's and Dreams
A land of people who
Get heat-broken and Shattered
And write about the things they've seen
People that write about the dark valleys in their mind
People who write poems about their lovers,
as you see their words come alive.
People who write about their struggles and addiction
A place where everything in their mind is in one place
and most of it is non-fiction.
But poetry for me
Are my Demons scrawled
Across these pages
And my story's to tell
This place is where I drown them
They lay there in that thing
The thing I used to call the Wishing Well.
If they're here, they're not in my mind
Emotion in my lines
But the reader has to Look, Imagine and Relate
But when they do, their minds come alive.
Now I know this
Poem may not be the best
And It's not meant to be
Because this is a poem that will only make sense to me
Just another Demon
I have thousands and this is just one less.
But now I come here everyday
In the hope I can feel something and relate to somebody else in some sort of way
People who I don't know but I can read and read
Pages upon pages and for a moment my mind becomes less tense and I start to believe.
I didn't mention the Angels
Because they're quiet
They only come when I rest
I think a lot
But I know they're always silent
During the Test.
You said you don't even know me anymore
my moods, my personality, my characters
keep on changing like the weather
Morning when it rains
I am sweet , gentle and romantic
afternoon, when its hot and humid
I am mean, I am harsh and I snap at you
...a little grouchy
Well, I really dont know...
but here is the story...
On one sunny sky bright day
Our love story started to bloom
and the whole world cheered and clapped
to celebrate this greatest love story
When all of a sudden a dark cloud appeared
and stole the sunshine smile away
love went into coma... for a year or two
The monsoon rains and again we missed
the gentle love on wet cold nights
Inseparable in the love nest we built
Glued together the whole rainy days
It was midnight when we had a storm
We were forced to build this wall
and kept our distance again
A whole year in complete vacuum
missed the love nest
but preferred the cocoon better
Today is a warmer day
The sun is coming out lazily
a little bit of warmth in the atmosphere
I tried to smile a little
and I said Hello
You grabbed my hand and told me
Never to change the weather again
I smile with tears in my eyes
reminiscing all the weathers
when we used to love and hate
How much time have we wasted?
This is me... This is you...
We are so much in love
Why must we change with the weather?
I might be Tornado in some days
or hurricane in another
but my heart beats still the same
despite the weather changes
My love I never changed
Beyond passion we embrace the dark
A bodiless bliss as we make our mark
Temptations tease, even want becomes need
Fulfillments fulfilled, even pleasures are pleased
We draw to the surface the quickening quench
Bathe in the purposeful fingertip stench
We lurk in the shadows cast by the meek
Who have inherited a world ruled by deceit...
With the wisdom of ages to guide our flight
We exist unnoticed under cover of night
We live for love yet hate sets us free
We search for truth in a world deceived
A simple twitch of an eye reveals a white lie
The calming of a heart as a nagging fear subsides
All is still as the dawn peaks the tranquil hour
Blinding rays of solar death seek evil to devour
Yet we are safe and sound from such a demon trap
When the forces of nature consummate our final path
Yet beware of such freewill that leads to new sin
For we are all mere mortals that fear an end...
You shop in Hollister,
a store targeted to popular teens,
but I stop by Hot Topic
made for fangirls, nerds, and scenes.
Inside of Hollister it is dark,
and you can't see what you're buying,
an overwhelming aroma of cologne and perfume
will make my eyes start crying.
The store is built to look like
it belongs in California-
and every piece of clothing
(and here is logic for ya)-
every piece is decorated
with surf boards and gulls and bikinis
cos everyone apparently forgot
where we live it's only 60 degrees.
The bags you take out with you
are covered with pictures of teens
with sagging bottoms and rippling muscles
and fake tans and bikinis obscene.
They play bad music
at a super fast pace,
and the girls inside
act like they own the place.
Now Hot Topic is a different story,
I feel that I must mention,
almost like an escape for losers,
a We Love Nerds convention.
Here you can get a size
that is bigger than zero,
and instead of cool surfboards
are screened with bacon and superheroes.
T-Shirts and suspenders
ties, belts, and wristbands,
with smart-aleck sayings
and merchandise for fans
of just about every
like Hetalia, Doctor Who,
or even just random
things like bacon or
My Little Pony,
(I'm getting a wristband that says
"I'm a Brony")
Funny little quotes
on buttons and pins,
on little odds'n'ends.
They people inside
are hipsters through and through
with hanging-off-the-frame Beatles shirts
MissMayI, Doctor Who.
This is where I feel safest,
among a million people like me,
instead of that stupid Hollister store
filled up with people I have no desire to be.
a cold night in warm summer.
i feel sad
is all i can remember.
he raped you,
with every touch he whispered
'love' into my ear
her hair was dark as the stars.
I'LL KILL THAT SON OF A BITCH
no. he didnt mean it.
her lip quivered
he loved me
i couldnt understand the defense.
he is in a bad place
her eyes wouldnt meet mine
drugs. alcohol. his dad was a bad man.
tears fell off her soft skin.
why dont you run?
my mind wouldnt stop
stay here with me
i reached for her hand.
with a twist
i will write.
you know that
she began her leave.
i love you.
i yearned for those swaying hips.
i longed for a simple touch.
i prayed for her nimble thoughts.
I awoke this morning sprawled in heat
The sun rose hid in gray pillowed haze
Proud broth of dark liquid splendor call
Me awake to the hours and lists to do
Plights to manage, tenderness to assuage
Chains of recoil and creation unfold
Heretofore, In my lap and in my eyes
Now is the strike of the bell’s clang
In ears clogged with passing halloo
We break our fasts in numbed pleas
And wonder along our life’s slumber
I had a soul, once, like a live animal
full of life and love and excitement.
It is dead now, quiet,
hunted,and gunned down
by enthusiastic hunters and self-infliction and wine that drowned
and bled it to death, skinned and hung,
with bulging eyes glazed like glass,
leaving only sun-bleached bones and foul odor.
I had a soul, once, that flew like a bird,
and spread its wings at your voice
and the call of God, who has grown silent,
whose conversations once held in trust in dark places
are deaf to answers and questions.
It was beautiful, once,
beautiful enough to be part of this beautiful world.
Everything was a succession of fireworks,
Bursting bright with color and light in a loud, dangerous
and glorious display of life and passion, and most of all love.
It has withered, now, like a dead flower or an old man,
back bent, senile, ignorant, and
too broken to be a semblance or remembrance of its once former glory,
The feelings and thoughts of being alone
how you open up to people about how you feel
But no one really understand me or what’s in my minds.
How I truly feeling alone and like no one understand me
like they never would or why should they
I sit alone in a dark room feeling hopeless
And praying they people will stop judging me and the way I feel,
The hopelessness stated to rise in me.
The fear come and the thoughts that you will always be alone.
Like you are now and how I wish I could stop judging myself.
the spiders came,
and the blue and gold walls painted over.
I lost some weight,
I was asked about it at your wake,
but I felt like
Cold he was,
and quickly he left
So I turned to cold cans of soup in the pantry.
Cold cans of soup
patting my dog
That was about it.
And sometimes the central heating would disturb the silence
and sometimes it would make me feel sick to my stomach
But I know one thing,
Happiness in suburban houses never lasts.
Sunshine, summer, parents, first loves
They are fantasies thought up in the grass.
I love you, he murmured
Why did she die? I pleaded.
The air was warm
but we lay in the dark.