selena-atlantis
http://hellopoetry.com/lady-dlos/ - revised 2014 / / I have written since age 11 and am going onto 37 years of writing. Most were part of my journey through life that have been unshared, some given away as gifts to those I loved. A piece of myself spread. / I cannot claim any degrees, though I have attended college to learn geology, philosophy, mathematics, and other aspects of human nature that interest me. / Almost all of my writings inspire emotions we are afraid to face. I believe that by facing our darkness we grow to be free of it and become whole. Because to deny any aspect of ourselves is to lie about who we really are individually and as human beings.
"Hey ya, I'm gonna **** you up!"
I hear as I pass in the hallway.
"Yeah, you! Come back so I can teach you a lesson!"
As if I need to learn.
I hear all kinds of **** in this world and I swing
The line outside the mainstream.
I don't give a **** what you think you need,
I'm not gonna play your game.
You're another whiner wanting to be heard, a jack
Without the crowbar.
You lost your mind sometime in the past
And think everybody owes you something.
Well I don't owe you **** so get off my path
I have bigger fish to fry at home.
Back off and find your own lost means and cry
Into your cheerios.
I said back the **** off and leave me be 'fore
I turn around to 'listen'.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
Poetry is a magic spell.
A ritual of words
With emotions for the tools.
I cast the ideals of what I want to be
And watch them unfold before me.
You see, what we write for ourselves
We create in reality.
When we write about our sorrows,
Do they not seem to increase?
When we pine over loss,
Does that loss never leave?
What do you want
In your reality?
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 7:08 AM UTC
Follow me
Follow me
My love
Into the deep blue sea
I can show you
I can show you
Many things
You'll never see
The blue of the sky
Dies in your eye
Babe, but
Follow me
Follow me
Into the deep dark sea
Love
Follow me
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 6:58 AM UTC
Forgive me Father for I have sinned.
I cross my heart and heat the pin
To burn out the angels and tarnish my soul.
Dark Father, I have forgotten your goal.
Our Cathedral stands atop basalt
Chaos churns its eternal assault
Across the horizon where my tears were shed.
Forgive me Father, I should be dead.
The Throne upon which your eternal flame
Rests on my brow - a crown of shame,
Has beauty and light crossing it's face.
Forgive me Father for kissing Grace.
Take my heart as if your own,
Make it bleed and make it moan
It's confessions upon the cold earthy ground.
Forgive me Father, for the Light that I found.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC
What is Melancholy
But the sound of a clock
Echoing its tick through the room,
Reflecting the beating of my heart?
Or the quiet tears held in check
Unable to trace a path along the cheek?
The breath - labored with heavy chains
That drag along the floor of my mind.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
I have been to the highest step outside the gates of Heaven;
Gold flickers from the light beneath the south within.
I have been to the deepest caves of Hell
Where basalt lays as soot on the layers of my skin.
I have traveled the strands of Grey between
The extremes of Black and White,
And have worked them to aid and heal,
To defend and to start a fight.
I found there are many roads that lead
To Heaven or to Hell; I promise,
No path is traveled alone unto itself.
They weave amongst each other.
The Grid that nets us all as One
Exists for those who seek it.
Sacred lines of world geometry
Expand in quantum existence.
I have kissed the hands of Saints and Angels,
And the lips of devils too.
Shadows bleed across my vision
Where Light and Dark blend to grey.
I have been to many places that are
Reflections of us all.
But in the end no one is different,
As we fade on the singular point of Death.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 8:08 AM UTC
The Enemy is our closest friend
And our best teacher in the end.
We cherish them for challenges made
And save them so our strength won't fade.
We love them to death, and hate them the same.
For some, the enemy is the best part of the game.
And we pamper them while shaking their hand.
Then turn around and ravage their land.
War is bound by the blood of all men;
Brothers in battle, and with ale at the inn.
We save their lives so that when battle is won
The game continues until the final one.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 8:00 AM UTC