It snowed all day today
First snow of the season
From the time I woke up to the moment I went to bed
The snow was so powdery
All there was, was glitter in the air
You see, I still want to tell you about my day
Because there are people that come in our lives
And they mean so much it doesn't make any sense
But they do.
I find myself still writing for you
Even though you don't want me to
But after a hundred poems it's hard to stop
My word's seem to come easy when I'm hurting
Often though, angry words are not meant
And actions are unfairly judged just through words
I'm not trying to get back what we had
But no one should feel not good enough.
We may accept the love we think we deserve
But often we deserve far more than we think.
And hush, you did. You do.
I keep checking in on you to make sure you're okay
And it kills me to know that you're not
What you consider flaws are simply the
Little quirks I saw back on your porch that made me smile
I hope you live; that you are more than just alive
Because I know you are a good person
Who deserves all the happiness and love in the world
And I would have gladly spent
The rest of my life proving it to you
Someone can't go from being the center of your world
Straight to nothing over night
I too, still think about you always ...
It's only been a week...
this morning i caught a familiar smell
smoke of the end of the world
the brief burst of space of time
i am required to fill quickly
it dries up just as fast
building into a crux
coming to this point
my final delivery
ready as tinder
am i surprised to see a flame
lapping, curling at the edges?
no..i've been expecting it
soon every word here
i've picked and stitched
with their roots and stems
must be thrown into the fire
their black ashes are needed
after they cooled
to make compost
nurturing the soils
room for the next stanza's chance
to take hold and grow
a forest burns to the ground
no one other than myself
or dare understands
the full extreme
i will leave you with this and my love.. http://youtu.be/UXs9pKV-7-E
I'll keep it bottled up inside
because I hate the cold outside.
Hatred for the world, and lies after lies.
They eat away inside, words I've left unsaid.
It can't hurt me now,
I'm simply already dead.
The people stand united
Each colour, creed and class
They move and ripple seamlessly
A single lifeless mass
So long, they faced each other
No sympathy was traded
But now they are as family
And enmity has faded
With peace for all humanity
And just one single need
To satisfy the appetite
One day you look in the mirror
And you give yourself a thumbs up and say,
"I'm a champion"
And the next day
Looking back at the mirror
You think to yourself that what you see is repulsive
And that what you see is so disappointing
And you're not satisfied
And you start thinking,
"Is this really how people see me?"
Not good enough and never good enough
And you give up
And you stop trying to be that champion you saw yourself as before
When you're a child
You aim for the sky
You cast your nets far and wide
And aim your arrows high
Until the day that you realize that eventually everything falls
Eventually, the arrow will come back
And you don't have the freedom you thought you had
When you were young
And now you're stuck
Constantly looking into that same mirror
Thinking about all the time and money and resources that you don't have to do what you want
Or even the motivation to do what you want
Because now you know
That's not how the world works
She appeared first in a dream
when I was fifteen. Yes,
she was the fire of ecstasy and those first licks
set my world alight.
She's a shape-shifter, sometimes
blonde, sometimes dark,
but always softly naked when she comes.
She often whispers secrets
in the molten nights.
But clumsily, when morning breaks,
and I'm alone,
I struggle to remember. Accordingly,
I search the cities, the subterranean rivers
and far off mists and mountains
every writhing, glistening day.
But it won’t surprise you when you know
about where I mostly go to find her.
It's under the volcano,
the place of endless fire.
It's where us dreamers and us demons
dance with our desire.
Mike T Minehan
Your first book into the amazing world
catapulted me into a mentality I'd never know
The Seam, the Capitol, the arena…
I grew into Katniss and developed survival instincts
I surely would not need
Peeta, Gale, Cinna, Katniss
when Katniss grieved, I weeped.
My life nearly ended
when I flipped the last page
I loved every chatacter.
I adored Lady, the goat, for crying out loud!
The movie was atonishing.
So now it is 2013.
Catching Fire has arrived.
November's here, forget the turkey
I don't want to see Charlie Brown specials
I want to see the Quarter Quell
And my hero rise against the Capitol again
from the Mockingjay dress to the water world
a spark to a rebellion
Finnick and Joanna
though I know the whole script
I'll anticipate every second
of the ticking arena
So Hunger Games, I do love thee.
Cravings for what we aren't supposed to have
Love is forbidden and nobody cares
The poor have no chance
with idle hands
making up rules with no second glance
And the people vote
Raise your hands
the verdict stands
a hundred years without hope
will there be any way to cope?
With wars running rampant and poverty
liars and thieves become the kings
The people bow to cloth, people & things
children remain suffering
This is a world of of the insane
Forgiveness is difficult when no one is sorry
Confidence and hope are replaced with worry
Faith flies out the window & prayers are hard to say
when injustice rules then no one can feel safe
Your laugh is the release from this world.
And I must say,
It is my guilty pleasure.
I lay on the ground, shivering.
The walls around me are made of stone, they fill up my world.
I cannot see beyond them. Have never seen beyond them.
Instead, I lay in this pit, on the cold ground, with a dark light surrounding me. It is the only light in the Pit.
The light is of the sky that blows snowflakes onto the Earth. Far above, I see this sky and it illuminates this world into a grey haze.
The beauty of it is undeniable. Yet, a snowflake never falls here. There is no white to marvel.
Outside these walls, the snow fills a surrounding forest of white birches and the cold ground.
I have never seen the forest, but it is there.
I lay on the Pit's stone, shivering; dieing.
The whispers of the Demons haunt me. They are the only other voices I know.
They tell me nothing but what is horrible.
But this Pit and the Demons of Darkness are beautiful.
They are my life source and I am theirs.
But the price of this pain is costly.