run, run, run
run far away
for the battle is no longer play
the king lost his head
the jabberwocky dead
and the witch been slain
the truth is here
but it hurts our fear
our name will never wane
alone is too fragile
so minds not agile
it’s us or them we say
their hearts with no pulse
their lives that repulse
repeated so them we can flay
though many a doubt
bite through and throughout
weakness cries to remain
the king cried red
when he lost his head
but no wincing we could feign
the jabberwocky spawn
no longer wish for dawn
but we still let them go astray
the witch, she loved
but when push came to shove
we disposed of her anyway
so run, run, run
run far away
before the truth comes to say
there is no us
no them to slay
only violence possessed
to avoid dismay
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
truths are honest
but honesty is not truth
when each moment changes
all the world changes too
it was there seconds ago
but now gone from our lives
don’t search for the answers
for the words will not revive
instead know this
when I say it
know I mean it
that is all you can wish
but when looking to the past
trust nothing
trust no one
or this happiness will be the last
the words leave
but echoes stay
echoes of old vows
now longer in play
once true
now false
once warm
now cold
once freedom
now death
so trust my words not
and I won’t trust you
don’t look back
because we’ll lose what’s true
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
To ask the question who are you
Is to avoid the question who am I
Because windows shatter and mirrors break
But the dim light of the soul no wind can take
So follow it through, don’t bother with health
Why question the world when you can question yourself
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
the queen of hearts, she made some tarts
all on a hot summer’s day
the knave of hearts, he stole those tarts
and ran far away
the queen, her heart, it turned too ****
and filled her with dismay
and then the **** it changed her heart
now hear the mad queen say,
‘off with his head
off with his head
off with his head, my prey’
yes, the **** it killed her heart
and now the knave is dead
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 8:23 PM UTC
Times have come
When you needed someone
But I knew I could not be
That person you want to see
I did not want to be bound
Pinned upon the ground
I would only care
With a sentiment you did not share
But you needed a person
And though my soul did worsen
And my chest tore into two
I stayed for you
I do not know of love
A concept this world shows none of
All I know is that I stayed
And received nothing in trade
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
trees, trees
so many trees
they’re green
some are lean
why write about the seven seas
or what happens in winter to bees
when so many know the trees?
rhymes, rhymes
so many rhymes
this one may take me some time
I could learn and talk just fine
without using a rhyme
but no, deep is slime
without the help of a rhyme.
love, love
so much love
filled with white feathered doves
that heart always needs a shove
write about love
frilly and goofy love
and think of nothing above.
poems, poems
so many poems
but nothing rhymes with poems
why is the name
not the same
to play the strange game
and win the author fame?
poets, poets
so many poets
nothing rhymes with poets either
meaning, coincidence, or neither
the poets they cry
and the words they die
whenever the rhymers play
so now hear what I say
maybe a poem does not have to rhyme
a thought that would be just fine
maybe the name
is not the game
maybe the tree
can be more to see
maybe the love
can get over the dove
and see the fighter’s light
bring the world new heights
the silly thoughts
the haphazard lots
who think what they feel
is sure to heal
should quiet
to hear my riot
poetry is not for those
who want to gush and play
poetry is for those
whose world they can expose
and truths they can say
poets are the faint of heart
with their feelings they cannot part
truth-tellers on the other hand
well, I think of them as very grand
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
When the hand drops in exhaustion
The pen escapes the loose grip
And rolls across the worn floorboards
Venturing a new path in the dust
Uncovering designs none have seen for a lifetime
When the pen hesitantly approaches the rim
Teetering on the edge
Finally giving in and breaking the boundary
Falling down the rickety stairs
Pushing through the cobwebs
Stirring up what has rested for centuries
When the pen clatters to the floor
A sound much to sharp for such a still place
Reverberating off the walls
When the pen finally rolls to a stop
Basking in a single pool of golden light
Discovering a final place to rest
When the new becomes old
When all grows still once more
When the sound fades into the deaf walls
The day is done
The life is gone
The story has ended
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
This world was built on a foundation of perfection
No weight lies upon our shoulders
Each person needs no other to survive
No others need to be added to this perfect world
For perfection is perfect
But the storm rips us apart
I huddle by myself
Covering my eyes to make it not true
The pieces of the world cut through the air
Not just the air, but my flesh, my soul
The others cower alone as well
We all hide our sobs
And muffle our cries of pain
For Perfection is not weak
The storm moves on
And the world is now dull gray
The wounded tend to themselves
And the children cry alone
We do not reach for the pieces we have lost
But instead begin to build a new world
For Perfection knows no past
This new world is perfect
Each person takes care of only their needs
Nothing can be added or lost to make it less perfect
But the perfection weighs upon my shoulders
And slices into me like glass
It hurts so much I cry
But no help is given when I reach out
For Perfection does not care
Doors close
Windows slam shut
The people scatter as they hear my rage
They do not want to talk of or hear about the terrible past
The future is what matters, they say
For Perfection does not know pain
But I find another who shows pain
The other and I, we search for the pieces of the lost world
The other and I, we lay them out
But the pieces do not fit
What has been ripped apart cannot be fixed
For Perfection is not in the pieces
The other and I, we show the pieces
To the citizens of the new perfect world
The past stands before them
Some faces are masked
Some are in tears
Worse are the cries of anguish
But each person does not acknowledge any other's pain
For Perfection is self-sufficient
The other and I now realize what Perfection is
It is covering what's inside
And pretending emotions do not exist
It is showing your faults to no one
And not caring for another
It is thinking only of the pain you are in
And being swallowed by your own misery
So much that you forget that you can heal another's pain
Just as they can heal your own
For Perfection is a mask for those too selfish and weak to show the pain inside
For Perfection is forgetting there are others like yourself
For Perfections is not knowing
That Perfection is not real
The other and I, we stop putting together the pieces
The other and I, we leave that perfect world
The other and I, we begin to make a new world
Full of imperfections
The other and I, we do not hide our pain
We show it to our imperfect world
And because it is shown
It drifts towards the heavens
And because the other and I, we show our imperfection
The imperfections fill our world
And the other and I, we begin to mend
For imperfection is healing
They all begin to see
The happiness that is brought to the other and I
The other and I, we teach them
How to show their pain
To display their imperfections
To heal the wounds inside
For imperfection makes our world beautiful
When new pain is found
We display it to the world
We help others as they help us
We are dependent on each other
Losing a person fills us with sorrow
A person being added fills us with joy
For imperfection connects us all
To say our world is perfect is far from true
Perfection and imperfection should never be compared
Pain is in our world, but there is also happiness
Loss, but also gain
Every pain we feel is matched with joy for something else
For imperfection means to have emotion
For imperfection means to live
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 12:45 PM UTC