The moon slaps my face
With its brightly shining beams.
Now I remember that day
So many years ago,
When I feared the aliens there.
Now their existence
Is a mere fact of life.

People always say
That mistakes are okay.
But what consolation
Have we made in preparation
For when mistakes become a blight
That decimates our planet’s light.

I just forgot her presence
Simple as that.
But when she shows herself
Into this world of mine
I can’t help but feel disgusted
At my stupidity.

All I did was shut her out.
I’m an *******.

The past five days
Were not the best.
You could even say
That they were ****,
As you disgustedly spit
Into your spittoon.
But they were among
The best five days
That I’ve been blessed to live
In the five year winter.
I think the equinox is finally coming,
So I’ll start my vernal days humming.

Wings for Mary,
Donate her wings of smoke,
To carry my mind ever so higher,
Where the wind is softly blown.
Mary Jane sounds like someone
I’d like to take to the smoke-zone

The words you uttered just now
Reminded me of the place
We went to a year ago.
I was much younger then,
Take me back to those days when
I was hopelessly in love with you.

Now, I cannot say the same is true.

Tuesday, April 30th, 2019

A cold hand grasps my heart,
My emotions taken over.
The finger nails puncture like a dart.
I must’ve lost my four leaf clover

All that was left has been lost
I let out an unheard wail
Its thumb and fingers crossed
As it starts to drive in a nail

The pain makes me want to cry
But i must keep it all together
Even if I’m going to die
I will stay calm forever

But it’s all too late
My calm appearance leaves
I go insane, full of self hate
And drag a knife down my sleeves

When the deed is done,
My arms are bleeding, a smoking gun.
It leaves me in a state of despair,
Reminding me that it is always there.

This feeling comes whenever I’m weak.
It’s when I’m stressed or when I’m meek.
In the moment, i feel eased.
But my hunger is never to be appeased

All of you precious people,
all you precious men and women:
do not fret or fear,
you are never alone.
Just as I am here,
someone is there.
Someone exists
to repair your breaking soul,
and help you rebuild yourself whole.

No matter who you are,
someone out there loves you.
You may not think this true,
so then keep living
and prove me wrong.
You'll realize I'm right before long.

All work and no play
makes me a useful boy.

As long as I keep working,
people will see my lie as truth;
that I'm not a failure.

You have an idea.
It pops into your mind
like an unannounced prince;
sudden and wild, but welcome.

The idea is used,
your head leaks code
onto the glowing screen.
Now the turning mind
grows weary.

Your mind's fatigue kills,
and you are so close to done...
but secretly,
you know it's a lie.

Debugging awaits your arrival.

Lessons learned through progression of life.
Lessons I had unknowingly tried, and never met success.
Lessons I all learned at once yesterday.
Lessons I will now follow.

Life is what I am to make it,
So it is no longer an autumn hell,
For I terraformed it into a vernal heaven.

It’s ok to hate yourself,
As long as you’re trying to like you.
You will fall from grace,
But it’s ok, life is sour sometimes.
If you don’t ever let go,
Life will let go of you in your stead.

Before you love someone else,
Learn to first love your own **** self!

This isn’t right.
My actions
Are devoid of light.
I run bluff after bluff,
So apparently,
Living life isn’t hard enough.
I act all high and mighty,
But if I’m asked in earnest,
I’ll get an early start on my nightly

Breakdown.

Draped in a cloudy cloak,
The light is filtered
Onto this marsh once more.

But a crack near the horizon
Lets some straggling beams fall,
And reflect off the salty water.
Now all the marshen rivers
Are made of liquid gold.

As the walls come down,
There’s a look in your eyes;
My fear begins to freeze
As I recall all of those times
I shouldn’t have cried
And all of those times
I should have died.
But
I don’t mind,
Because you
Were so kind.

Sifting through the simmering desert of time,
The golden sand reflects the open sun,
Making this a bright, golden hellscape.
The sun scalds my damp body,
Donating my pale skin a rosy sheen.
I don’t know where I’ve come from, or where I’ve been,
But I know that all I can do is sift further,
And grimace with each step on the scalding sand,
Hoping to leave this golden hell,
And traverse to a green heaven.

There were no lies
That could have
Choked me with
Their rose vines.
There was only truth,
A simple matter
Of a wild week.
The golden fountain
Of glorious euphoria
Wells up in me again,
Donating vitality
To my dying soul.

A single grain of salt
divided the ocean,
creating a rift
for the convoy of change
to triumphantly march,
and once again unite the ocean
in it's revolutionizing wake.

Picked up and put down.
Thrown into the ground.
Suffering from pain and hate
My mind goes a blank white,
My blood is stubbornly irate.
The day holds less light,
And the night now controls,
Filling my heart with empty holes.

Stuck wide awake,
After being given
A rather rough wake up slap.
Now a red rash of fear remains,
Stinging my brain with sharp pains.

As things continue to stand
In this land of the eternally ******,
theres no more room for an honest man.

The king was but livestock,
given to the next in line.
His death was a tragedy,
but another arose from it.
chaos uprooted justice,
and bit by corrupted bit,
the monarch transformed.

A demon came from the monarch,
just as a saint had come from the king.
However, since the king was ill livestock,
the monarch would drop like a rock.

Hail Macduff!
Hail the one who hath slain
a most fearsome demon!

To all those oppressors out there,
I say "**** you!"

I pray to all the masses:
Let the rabbits wear glasses,
let the pigs wear suits,
and let the accountants...
let them wear their favorite boots!

The cows can don their horns
and the sheep will wear their wool
while farmer brown scorns
the fool that wrought this chaos
into his farm stand kiosk.

A silver tongue,
Or a golden one?
I tend to prefer
Them motionless.

Just another fleeting instinct
That hops from one event,
One minuscule instance in this
Perpetually flowing spring of time,
To the next.

Four-k cameras
don't do a scene much justice,
but beautifully spun verses
can imprint a distinct image
into one's imaginative mind.

The anger closes in,
Like a thick blanket,
Ten degrees too thick.

My worldview is narrowed,
The blanket weighs me down.
Heat is rising at a rapid pace,
And my thoughts become colder.

The blanket is now
chaining me down,
And I feel useless.
I want to help another,
But I cannot help their case.
It violently tears me open
To be unable to help them.
And as I think further,
The blanket grows thicker,
And tighter.

A dulling gold plain
split into many pieces
by the high tide water.
The water flows steadily,
a rather small motion
that breaks the illusion
of stagnant salty ice.

the concrete bridge
stands like a gravestone;
marking the time of old,
and barely intact
to see the present hour.

The unfiltered sun
shines ever so brightly,
as if a golden amber blanket
is lain caringly upon
this dead winter marsh,

giving it light,
giving it life.

Hands in flaming hands
With the demons that once had
Control on my world.

the ashen flower
continues to grow on
after the demon's power
destroyed the world we thrived upon,
but more flowers will rise anon.

The wind moves like a whip,
As if making way for a storm.
The field, a dull golden amber,
Leans to one side in the fiery weather.

The wind pulls me away from myself,
Freezing my saddened body,
But releasing my tortured soul,
Pulling to the healing grounds
That I consider this field to be.

I’m such a coward
I run and hide from opportunity.
My regrettable cowardice
runs through my blood fluidly,
Causing my own grief.

Maybe if I was brave,
Life would’ve been better.
But I am a coward,
And I could never be proud
Of where it put me now.

As I sit ever so still,
I seem perfectly calm.
But on my visceral inside
Erupts a magnitude 9.

Slowly slipping as of late.
Im falling into a pit of hate,
My mind’s becoming irate.
I reluctantly anticipate
That I’m soon to suffocate,
Under the water that’ll inflate
And call an end to my fate.

Even now,
You’ve slipped into my mind, unannounced.
Once again, your absence plagues me,
And I attain more symptoms of love sickness.
I think of how much nicer this serene scene
Would be with you, next to me on this bench.

The cold weather
that’s striking our world
Would be less chilly,
with your warm heart
Resting next to mine.

I’ve started coming here daily,
To rest and ponder.
My mind will aimlessly think,
And my heart will slowly wander,
Cycling in front of my mind,
Obstructing my rational thoughts.
And each day, these cycles grow longer.

With each strike of the hammer
Embers launch themselves out
From the source of such a clamor,
Seeking a space to seed doubt.

The seeds are forever sown,
But the farmers are soon neutralized
They never get to see their work grown,
They only started getting them unionized.

But each earthbound cooling spark
Is just a part of the movement’s progression.
The real movement is each hammer mark,
Created from each act of oppression.

As the weapon of war is finished,
An army rises, and an empire is diminished.

I sit in my throne of pride,
Saying I’ve got nothing to hide;
"An inhuman person, holding face,
One will never see his fall from grace."

The tension starts to strangle,
And my body I’ll continue to mangle;
"A hardworking soul, who’ll never tire,
Even as the bar raises higher and higher."

My love increases, yet I sit and wait.
It’s over my head, I’m starting to suffocate.
"Married to his work, he will not love.
He lies not in such concepts, but far above."

I don’t know what’s happening to me,
My life is continuing into uncertainty.
"He knows what to do, he’s set on a path,
His definite success will fill him a bath."

I don’t need attention, the problems are mine.
I won’t ever worry another, It will work out fine.
"For him, things will always go right.
He’s hand in hand with luck’s vast might."

Things always find a way...
"His present & future are rather gray..."

I built a castle,
And burned it down,
Watching the ashes fall
And fireflies rise.

A paper castle of much grandeur
Can’t hold a candle to a flame.

It’s a way to calm oneself
After a tough day of work.
Clearing your mind,
Or filling it with other thoughts.
You feel refreshed at the end,
But it all hits back on you,
Like the hammer hits
The glowing metal,
Sending sparks of joy away.
Then you feel like
You should meditate again,
And so you do.

Using System;

Namespace Poem
{
     Class Program
     {
          Main(string[] args)
          {
               Console.WriteLine(“1 or 0”);
               String dec = Console.ReadLine();

               bool life;

               if (desc == 1)
               {
                    life = true;
               }
               else
               {
                    life = false;
               }

               string msg = MADNESS(life);

               Console.WriteLine(msg);
               Console.ReadLine();
               life = !life;

               Console.WriteLine(life.ToString());
               Console.ReadLine();
          }

          Public Static String MADNESS(bool life)
          {
               bool suffering = false;

               if(life == true)
               {
                    suffering = !suffering;
                    return “madness ensues.”;
               }
               else
               {
                    suffering = false;
                    return “madness took over.”;
               }
          }
     }
}

I want to run.
Travel far away.
This place is hell
I have no idea why
But my blood’s boiling as well.

My mind is hell bent
My blood is pumping,
But...
I can’t break anything
My fear is overtaking.
I want to break something,
Yet I’m breaking nothing.

I don’t want to be here
I don’t want to be here
I want to ******* run
I want to cough up blood
And wither away.

Split myself open again,
Laugh at the sight of blood,
Ride the wave of serenely
Stabbing,
Butchering,
And ultimately
Mutilating pain.

Home is where the heart is,
But my heart has burned away.

The caring child,
Who hopes for
The goodwill of all,
And believes in everyone.

The caring child,
Who listens to metal,
And writes dark poetry.

The caring child,
Who enjoys cutting
Himself right open,
And has attempted
To take his own life
A regrettable 4 times

There’s a helping hand
That holds me back
From doing what I desire...

Like asking for help.

I know I’m Li’l late,
My love’s just a dying shield
That shelters my hate.

My mistress of sleep,
Slowly, silently, and seductively
Slips off her vantablack velvet robe,
And squeezes herself into my head.

She beckons in my mistress of dreams,
And seduces my mind into a sleepy *******...
Of sleep.

What else could it have been...
Jeez~! you people have ***** minds...

START

FORCE STOP [PROGRAM]

END
//(read the notes)

Above the ever changing trees
Lies the ever growing tower of stone.
A swift mountain breeze,
Causes the stout wood to groan.

Like a pebble
Being blown lightly
Across a desert storm,
I was unknowingly blown
Off of the towering stone.