Losing my kids
Losing you
I wish it wasn't true
I wish you could see
You're looking for me
I saw a side of you I don't like
I wish you would say sike
Put things back where it all makes since
When I thought you were heaven sent

Dear Older brother
You're never around
My Dear older brother
it's seemed you've dropped your crown

I've grown up knowing you merely by name
I didn't grow up with you
I haven't seen your bad days
Thou I do know somethings to be true

I know of a niece of mine
She a daughter of yours
Her name is Brianna
I still remember after all these years

She's kind and sweet
very loud and obnoxious
though you neglected her
She's always been quite cautious

You're the ghost of the family
The so called black sheep
Disappearing from existence
though nobody seemed to weep

In the past you were quite the rebel
  You grew **** in pots
Shoved them high in the trees
But that was a terrible hiding spot

I heard father tell me
You were part of the wrong crowd
You became a well known drug dealer
Going around this old town

I called you awhile ago
To inform you grandma died
But you didn't know who i was
Don't worry about it I replied

Half the same blood
We hold in our bodies
But clearly nothing alike
We aren't carbon copies

I wish though sometimes within the night
That you could have been a real brother
And a real father to your daughter
Instead of a stranger like any other

But time passes like everything else
There is no point hoping for the impossible
So to my so called dear older brother
I hope you can care for somebody
If thats even possible

Nick

Dread spread through my head wish I was dead

Pain in my brain driving me insane

'Oh, when will you return, my love?' wondered Kourê,
   as she lays on the daybed, in the cradle of                        
          Spring's clime; how the nights and days make                        
her so weary, as the yellowed flames sway idle              
So many flowers sent,                                            
each rich with memory.      
Violets coiling around the triumphal arch;              
His smile after their first kiss under
the flushing dawn.
Starlings who sing ever so sweet;                              
the song of him preaching of her being
                       a bright glory before others.
Crystal chandeliar that hangs from the ceiling;
                            Her on a small bench, his hands massaging
                              warm oils between her fae-sculpted
      feet and toes.
The roses; a rouge kiss in the light of the shade
          The harp; a white daybed draped
                            with a scarlet sheet.
She yearns for a hug from him, bathing ****
          in light, as their hearts beat in sync
                              and reach the sky.
All she wants is a sweet rest, his hand on her
fine head;                                                
            stroking, sighing, eyes shining,              
                  water that trembles between fingers,
happiness linger!
A feather drifts earnest, the glittering of stars,
And now she cools, recalling their sweet        
goodbye as he rides his mare,
            snow cloak shines eternally.
'Yours is a beauty that will never wilt,' he cooes,
placing a rose in her hair.                  
A rose.                      
A rose...        
Her eyes falls on the white rose in the vase,
              lonesome, thornless proud...                  
We marvel its beauty, its earthbound performance                       
 She holds the rose in her hand, staring at its                    
its crowning glory; petalled virtue
By her ivory velveteen fingers                                          
long finger,
               slim thumb-
She plucks petal by petal by petal by petal
as she looks to the day-sky
                      with a dreaming mind
And when the crown is gone,                            
                       her face is touched by a frown                        
                and the naked stem,
                                    marred by her sensitivity-
                                            ***** of its own beauty-
                                                    for her hand's sake,
her yearning for her lionesque lover,              
                                         and aurorian prayers?          
The stem falls, naked and bald on the ground
    as she closes her eyes, saddened...
She cannot bear the sight of snow-kissed            
flowered bays without the sun,
                   her hymn-
                                  her shield-
Know the true secret behind the red, red rose  
As none know of its venomous mantle    
this Rose lingered in the vase only to be
defiled.
Taken advantage of only to
                            be dumped-
A laughing stock as another more beautiful
                            flower will take its place
Boiling with vengeance, the stem is hale,
jade with envy-
                                               barbed with thorns, a poisoned desire
                      to shield its body,
Its pride, its crown stolen-
                                     From snow to blood-
                                                    its pain turned crimson,
No longer will tears of dew fall!
'It matters not,' Kourê thinks, 'another rose will bud.'
For they, like many perennials and sentient life,
                          are conscious of its limited beauty!
'Mine own beauty and his will last forever.'
From the light beyond,
she sees him.
                                       Her sun that rides the mare!
She runs into his embrace- a pair of happy doves
Her fingers in his gold curls
as he bends the knee,
The air lovingly cold at this display!                  
Ever so content!
                                          Blessings upon the lily in the snow!
Upon her hands, the blood of a rose,
that swears vengeance upon her
for it will be the catalyst!
Blood for blood!
                                  The rose will rise and curse
them with pain ten-fold...