If I were a Wordsmith, with power in my pen,
I would write your demise, a slow, painful end.
I would cut you so deep, with my words you would bleed,
The pain overwhelming, with each word that you read.
You would choke on every promise that you had ever broken,
You would hear me loud and clear, though no words ever spoken.
My emotions catch fire, and now your suffocating,
You begin to understand, but all this time I've spent waiting,
Has made me cold and numb to all you may need,
Your cries fuel my fire, my thoughts gasoline.
If I were a wordsmith, with power in my pen,
I would make you feel the pain and the weight of your sin.

This new man has staticky ambitions;
Believes the future needs something to do
And talks to me in straight lines

The ****-flavored pears
Now littering my yard
Are only the beginning

For the sake of misdirection,
I suggest we **** Keyser Soze
But he's stuck on his previous observation

'I said, 'gravity's gone bad for you, girl;
Everything 'round you's up in the air.'

'Yeah', I tell him,
*'I heard you twice the first time'

I write you out
Give voice to the silence
I would talk about it out loud
An injustice though, for those unfamiliar
With loss
You hear the words
But do not feel them
Cradled arms hold close and tight
To memories full of soul deep and light
You brought so much joy
Jeremiah
Your name still feels whole on my lips
Life is always a stage
Some would say yours was a tragedy
I know better
An epic drama full of love, adventure
Comic relief
When the despair becomes unbearable
That is what I cling to
My oasis amid drought
A light house beaming bright
During storms raging against rocky shores
I'm still afloat with our laughter
I'm still afloat

Mourning
Has washed over but it's swelling tide
Does not ebb
Each day dawns in brightness
Many things for which I thank
Surrounded by love, by comfort
Yet even the weight of your arms fall short
This sadness has become a sickness
For which there is no cure
The rose tinted frames I wore before
Are now shadowed
The sun still shines
Birds singing
But it's always raining in my head
Leaking out to form rivers
From where I spring in cathartic feeling
Healing is no process
It is a journey
One that I will follow through this life into the next

Nature has deemed fit to bless the female form with monthly...troubles
Once taboo to speak of
Many grew up ignorant of their own blood
Only that it's purpose signified
Their readiness to be sacrificed
Lower than cattle, owned, bartered
A son meant continuation of line, of name
A woman was an acquisition
Nothing more
Many a young maid, trembling on her wedding night
Forced to open her heart, her ****** body
To a man, hopefully gentle
That she had only just met
Let alone speak to
A groom preferred his bride
Meek and mild
Untouched by even her own hands
To know pleasure was to be a wanton
Nothing pure could be so passionate
When our very nature dictates us to be so!
Society views our struggle as
"Having come a long way."
How reprehensible to say such a thing
When we are still victimized
Underpaid
Objectified
Abused
The media flaunts only those
That are deemed "beautiful" by a panel of judges
When in fact all of us radiate
For we are governed by the moon
*Our very *** harnessed by her silvery pull

You may not know me
You may know me a little more than you'd like
Sometimes even I do
A few things upon first meeting
You will notice
I have intense eye contact
I laugh easily
I was aptly named, babbling
You will walk away thinking
Smiling softly to yourself
"That girl channels joy."
I hope to leave every life I touch that way, full of hope
Come soak up the remains
You may never have to know of the scars beneath
I do my best to hide them
Often failing
Pleasure is universal
Spread the love
But pain...pain is private
My ***** laundry
Perhaps I never learned how to numb it
**Pain is only relevant if it still hurts

Please stop rhyming in poems.
Start using Kung Fu.
What is going on?
This isn't my universe.

I say
"I forgive you"
But knowing you want me when I don't want you
is the sweetest land-mine
I have ever buried.

You're mean.
You're nasty.
That's why God put me on this Earth.

You're full of hate.
How can you live with yourself?
A question I ask twice a week,
maybe three times.

When the sky opens up
and rays of sun blanket the homeless
sleeping on park benches.
I feel nothing.

Putting a sea shell to my ear and
listening for the tsunami to crash down.

Yep,
pessimism did **** the cat.
Curiosity was just a cover up.

I'd like to think that
I am mean,
nasty,
and full of hate.

Standing up to the sun and
shouting out clouds.
Tomorrow will forgive my sins
and give me false hope.

The world will spin backwards
and tonight I will lose myself.
The clock doesn't stop the child from crying
and neither will I.

In a world that is warm,
I am mean, nasty, and full of hate.

My skin goosebumps with the breeze
Early July melting silking soft, my vision
Lucy firing metallic spark neurons
Across the liquid night sky
Sulfur edges closer in it's hazing accent
Pool water lapping against the edge
Makes me giggle
******* hard, eyes wide
I take it all in
in awe
The laughter of our captured youth echos
Mountains stand in shadowed silent regard
Cradling our memories, pasting them
against our walls
I lean back in pure joy
Deep sigh of contentment
Overwhelmed by sensation
Sizzle singed, stretched thin, just need a little closer
Inhaling the scents of independence
Cut grass, twilight dew, chlorine
Charcoal takes me back every time
Chemical rearrange pulls spastic front to back
*All I can think about is having you here