I looked upon a tree tonight,
The wind caressed my hair,
And in my broken state of mind
I saw Him standing there.
There once was a flower
With beauty in it's solitude.
I remember my hands with anger
Ripping it without care.
I placed the flower in my room,
The next day it was dead.
And in my heart there was the trouble
And sadness in my head.
I looked upon the tree tonight,
And saw that empty space,
I turned my head, with tears, upright,
And pensive, saw instead,
A bud, still blooming,
Then another still,
All the way up to the top,
It's true, the tree was filled.
Though I killed my beautiful love,
There's hope in life, and hope above,
And God is here, what I've mourned of,
Is passed, and gone until,
I reach my hand
Up to the sky,
I have tonight,
And watch the stars
Above, burn bright,
Oh what loving,
Delicate as a flower, I blossomed with power, to be a leader and to change peoples’ demeanors.
The view in my eyes are that most are blind, open your mind to a new age in time.
Rationalize the mistakes, because hard times are what it takes to mold a diamond in the ash, as we learn from our past.
Like an entity in disguise, I see the lies. The answers of our demise are in the sky, so give thanks to the maker for Mother Nature.
I'm back at the grind feeling mad as a hatter.
Still floating on. A poetry carpet.
No friction or pressure or fear I will fall.
Swooping and turning my belt is unbuckled.
Standing with toes hanging off.
Hands out for balance.
What the hell rhymes with balance.
Oh. Ladies and gentlemen if you look to your right
Niagra falls is a vision at night.
There goes a guy on your left on a rug.
Pass me a screw.driver so I can debug.
We will be landing in fifteen minutes.
In. Front of the sphynx.
After that captain sully sullivan is going to takenthe wheel.
The carpet guy is going down on a wing and. A prayer.
Then back to his house.for a much needed nap.
Good night and sweet dreams.
She is drawn to SATAN like an addict to heroin
She burns her fingertips, edging them into candle wax, mourning in the absence of Lucifer
“Dear valentine “she cries in the stark midnight, she won’t give in this time
She licks her raven shot gun, lining all the bullets in the form of pentagram
All she can hear is ringing in her head, he has made her weak,
Dangly calves, wrists scarred, teeth marks on her neck & heart scattered-
Like the ashes of his past lover’s
Traits of an incubus, seducing naïve women
Toying with their hearts, Masking his destructive tendencies, like a Russian politician
Eyes all pleasant lies, lips uttering praises for the rival’s spoken lines
Rough sex wont her mind, her heart wont subdue to his crimes
She is a fighter, he is a sinner
Smoke edged fingertips, lips turning into a wicked glee, bow down to the madhouse queen
Insanity is a welcomed relief, freedom from his infidelity
Pressing on the lever, pointed directly at his cerebrum
“Venomous mind, you should’ve have never thrown your heart in confines, you would have been alive”
CRACK! Led by a passage of dead silence, later morphed into scavengers screeching and agile flapping of inky wings.
Dark side feels a lot more attractive when your naive,but when you have tasted it,you want to run.
Quite often to you.
No, you can't say things like that and expect it to not hurt.
No, you have to think before you act.
No, you don't do those things.
No, because I love you.
I love your voice.
The way you look right when you wake up and just as you fall asleep.
The things you say and the way you're important enough that it can cut me to ribbons.
I don't know.
Its not a sexual thing. I just need you, I love you and want to hold you
I can't explain.
So I say no.
I can't tell you that
Its not important
Why those scars look so new
Or that one word makes me start to sob
Or how my face is so bad at listening to my mind.
I love you.
So I'll say it again.
She told us we would never return home.
I believed her, why wouldn't I believe her?
She'd taken me far away, further than my
Basic comprehension of geography could fathom.
We were beyond the hills, past any meadows
That I could still recognize as being home.
It was all gone, we were gone, our lives were
Only to become a faint memory, possibly a dream.
The clanking of horse hooves was burnt into my mind,
As the endless journey continued on and on.
Pitter patter, clink clank circled through my ears
Until my mind was emptied of everything except that rhythm.
I looked out from the back of the wagon
Peering past the trees and into far off distance.
Gazing into this unfamiliar world, untouched life,
I gifted myself to the beauty of it all.
I reached into my bag and grabbed a sliver of paper,
Scribbling as best I could in the darkness of night.
Throwing the paper to the soil herself,
It glowed in the light of the effervescent moon.
Amy O'Connor, age 11. April 1848.
Goodbye Virginia, hello California. Be good to us, Ms. Nature.
it's been 5 months and i still can't stop writing about you
To wish, to wish,
To dream a dream,
To writhe in nightmares of the obscene,
To ask, to know, to whisper, to scream,
The Waters of Regret, with tears, it teems.
The Night has vanquished the Softening Light,
The mind and heart, as one, in flight,
They try to spread their wings but unfold
Blackened remains of dreams so bold.
Skeletal and frail, they represent
The nothingness, the loss and lament,
They creak as they move in their fragility,
They yearn to wander eternally,
It happens that I do, indeed, readily
With Love and its "virility".
Happiness is a virtue, a privilege,
Not a tome, a text, or pledge,
It holds steady in the worst of winds,
A Northern ship in the tides and spins,
The pitch and yaw of each barrage,
Makes one wish for camouflage,
From life, from loss, from all heartache,
All who I know regret me, their mistake.
Be at peace, I'm at peace,
It's the rest I need,
I try and remember when you were happy
There's not enough love to give these children.
I've lived in my father's shoe to know
that brutes like him cut through the vein
and let the blood seep
into the deepest crack in the ground.
I tailgated the women that formed themselves
around philosophy and art--but not so much art
because they knife the stomach of the
very word as they put on their pretentious
stockings for those men--those men
who flick their pound of ash into the gutter
and claim to be gods of ethics
with their monotonous blather,
and I swear if I take one more shot
I'll become part of these sheets--
part of you, and those weeds will
be a beast to rip out.
I sit at my desk
With an empty mind,
An empty inside,
In an empty house
in an empty room
on a lonely street
in a lonley town
without anything to eat.
"she" wont let me be free
im alone no matter what i do,
theres no escape.
theres nothing i can do,
"she" will take over you.