You said you wanted to play a round of Sorry,
but that you didn't know the game,
instead you used Pictionary to draw for me,
but every scribbled messaged looked the same.

You said you related to Snakes and Ladders,
I guess because you like to go up and down.
You hope that I fall off and my leg shatters,
and the snakes eat me on the ground.

So go on and roll the dice, pretend to take a chance,
so go on and play nice, I know you've mastered that dance.
We don't need anyone else to play,
the two of us can share the blame.
So what do you say? Let's play another board game.

You suggested next Monopoly, your greed would help you win,
I think you just wanted to beat me, then wanted to rub it in.
I asked if you liked Risk, though strategy was never my strength,
your "no" came out very brisk, you never liked games of length.

You said you would love a round of Battleship,
I guess so you could shoot and bring me down,
watching me sink within my crypt,
right until I reached the ground.

So go on and roll the dice, pretend to take a chance,
we can play the same one twice, you'll keep your winning stance.
We can do it all your way, rules can keep things too tame,
so what do you say? Let's play another board game.

As a child your favourite game was Trouble,
but not because you're a living cliche,
you claim you liked to pop the bubble,
hoping each time it would break away.

It was a graveyard and overcast sky
and I sat with book and accordian in hand,
hearing the world with its screams
swallow up around me.
The people whom I had loved and lost,
Papa with his silver eyes
Mama her sharp tongue and tough love
Rudy whose hair the colour of lemons
and questioned why, the living and dead,
worlds apart, yet both did not have a choice.
I stood and screamed so that everything shook
the burning rubble and ash and dust
willing my words to bring it all back
but it did not come, and my breath rose in gasps.
Death had looked me in the eye and said,
“It’s not time yet.”
I would shut my eyes to the world
only decades later.
I will understand that there was hate and pain
there was sadness
but even more so, there was love and joy.
I will know that the people I loved had reason
to kiss goodbye
whether it was their own hurt
or saw it as a necessity,
but they were never truly gone from me
always somewhere nearby,
in the thick and thin
frail and worn
of times.
I would learn
to forgive Death that day.
I will understand that
and I will be hurt,
but I will be okay.

~

Not all deaths are sad.
Some, meant to ease their own pain,
Are called freedom.
While some,
Meant to ease the pain of others,
Are called love.

© BT

Shakespeare wrote, "All
the world is a stage" So when
I laugh at myself

I'm only being
an engaged audience and
when I applaud at

the end I am just
thanking God for his good sense
of Hamlet humor

I am love, unconditional, under certain conditions
You have to have the right views, and the right color of skin.
And I define what's right in this closed mind of mine,
You are all my brothers and sisters,
If you have the right bloodlines.
I praise God, I am God- your king,
So praise me when I sing His hymns, my hymns
You are all filthy humans, wallowing in sin.
Sinless and clean, I am as righteous as Him.
I am love, we are one- if you are like me.

-SLuR?

I look at you like
You put the stars in the sky

When you drink its as if
You tear them all down and
Right before my eyes

You change

I have so much love to give
But no one finds it as a gift.
I'm cursed to hurt in loneliness,
People only care when I bare my skin.
When I peel it off so they can see within,
They run away into the forest of The Vain.
And my veins ache for the comfort of a blade,
So I can control the pain that everyone gave-
That everyone gives.
Day by day, this is where I live
In the solitude that rejection emits
Look past my skin, look past my curves
Look into my eyes and see that it hurts.

Why can't anyone accept me
Unless I bare everything
Except my thoughts, ideas, and feelings
The whole essence of my being?
I'm just another body,
To be used and then forgotten.

-SLuR

A form shifts from mighty spit; fermented knowledge.
Across our land these feet will sift, isolating ignorance
To this world, a gift, skin holding potent opinion.
Encephalon encased in cogitation, thought born
To burn through waste made from infantile contemplation.
A cerise snake slithers through grey; cerebral circulation,
With intelligence it’s stained, rusting the cave of veins.
Plotting mischief, flesh is torn and split; by way of swift tricks,
Life is drained of blessed crimson; a torpid ocean of wit
Spilled into cursed vases. A liquid meant to pass lips,
To share what was been gifted; mixed with honey drips,
A nectar sweet mead conceived by the passion of ugly greed.
Given to gods, and accomplished artisans to savor and drink.
While lesser beings taste that which has been excreted.

-SLuR