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 Jan 2013 J Christmas
Tilly

                                                A           ­                                 
                             swirling                            
  requiem      
            ­    of                              
                                unsung  ­                                
                                              promise      ­                                    
                            ­       through                        
                            chipped                        
    ­                daylight                            
                      shines                 ­                              

;)
Ok let me see Old Testament says seven days
Well six in fact as God stepped back
And like all men, job done! Sat on his ***
Seven days to do all that on week out of 52
52 that make the year that times us here
Now God you see thats my rub because creation was so long ago
We did not orbit quite this way and days and weeks where different then
Six or seven, eight or nine search me God I don't know
But your figures don't add up you know
Big bang I think and primeval soup
Won't sell like Moses other stunts!
So God or Hawking heaven or hell
Choose your own I'm lost as well
Not today you ******* thing
Two days early it isn't fair!
Mother natures evil work
I'm like a grenade waiting to go off
My stomach aches burning hot
Don't speak or ask me what is wrong
I'm a woman you ***** it's obvious!
Give me a hug x No don't touch me now!
For I'm the moody PMT cow
I love you I hate you god your a man
But next week I'll want you if your still around
My secret thoughts reside
in the backyard of my existence
where darkness cries out in shivers
clear to my bones.  
I wake up to find them
packed neatly on shelves in my mind
and wish I could just crawl away,
be left alone.

They come from my emotions,
dressed in sadness
with no intention of ever  comforting
what they transform.
There are days
when they make a decision
to rearrange the places I stand
until I am left without hope,
forlorn.

My secret thoughts are the lyrics of my being
which bid my heart
to walk on a white canvas
of the purest snow.
Oh the damage
that could be done
if I spoke them aloud,
my true feelings revealed
with these eyes full of woe.

I cannot bend or I'll break
so I hide on these shelves
in my mind,
packed neatly away
from all that challenges
my tree of life,
such as falling leaves.
My secret thoughts control
how my tongue refrains
from speech,
So my true feelings,
you will.....
never see.
Copyright @2013 - Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
I'm not fooled, though you've my attention
time you were schooled
given detention
you're dropping each line...             fumbling each word
but that's fine

you're running scared--

                    give it up hand back the crown

cause queenie this jester put you DOWN

chucks my boy I've got his back

you've been derailed        ===========                       you're way off track



here's a tissue wipe your eyes

cause these words like Embers never Dies
this is for Chuck and his rap (joke) battle lol
 Jan 2013 J Christmas
September
There's a world that sits
in the tip
of
your cigarette.


There's a city in
that spark.
That amber ember. I've told him once before.
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