You say I have a choice
This is your decision
Do I have a choice?
Your decision is my decision
Your opinions are my opinions
But what is mine?
I want to stop
I want to be free
What to I get for my yearning?
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
As my mind floats a drift
My thoughts begin to shif
To your words
That handful of letters
That lost their betters
Those words turned to hate
As I lost my faith
Your hands once so gental
Turned into scorn that was oh so mental!
My body can not take all this fear and this hate
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
k a watson 2 days ago
The bell jingles
The door opens
The little figure hunched over
A parchement long forgotten
In time and space
My hads skim the volumes
My nose inhales the fragrance
Emotion over comes my being
I begin to run
Down the isles and up the stairs
Grabbing beautiful lights at random
Laughter bubbles from inside as I dance
Among the tall shelves that hold precious life
It is over too soon
My father calls to me
He tells me to pick only one
My happiness evaporates
How could I just choose one?
We soon leave
I empty handed
And his arms filled with knowledge
But I would return
I would return many a times
To relive that memory
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
An empty stage
It lays it wait
There's a certain emptiness to it
Does it know that actors come and
Go?
The performance is over
Yet my heart still lingers
To that Music Man
Does the stage know
It was my first and last?
My heart feels the weight
Of what it's leaving
A family bound by
The music
I wish to sing all
The songs to the
Stage that has
Become my
Obsession
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 11:16 AM UTC
I have seen love in many forms
From those who martyr and those who scorn
Love a gift not a right
For those who take flight
Upon wings of autonomy
I set my sights
For what plight
Do I have to lay claim
To such a wonderful gift or blame
I have seen love come and go
For now it is only for me to know
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
Where does all the light show?
Does it shine with the crow?
Or does it retreat into the night?
Only to blaze brilliant and bright
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 1:01 PM UTC
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping—rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping—tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door:—
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore!”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon I heard again a tapping, somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing more.”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he: not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no
craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered, “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope the melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore.’”
But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and
door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath
sent thee
Respite—respite aad nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked,
upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both
parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard
Humanity i love you because
when you’re hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you’re flush pride keeps
you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house
Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it’s there and sitting down
on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity
i hate you
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
My face is marred with infinite scars
Ones that seek no regard
I lie in wait for the day to come
When I am able to be loved
My face waits for the hand of fate
To stop its monuments wait
When the scars can be shown for all to see
And to no vary of degree
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
The mirror haunts my very soul
Fallowing my eyes as it goes
I look and stumble into hate
But what blindness can be compared to fate
Whoever has come to hate
The grotesque image that they seek
I for one am afraid to peak
Yes the mirror haunts my very soul
And none can offer any sweet console
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC