Within my feverish dreams
lives passed ink smears,
designed by my scar’s.

My blood is the ink,
my passion is the needle
tattooing heartache and
suffering upon this digital
skin.

This grave I’m digging
is of my own design.

Watch me climb higher and
higher! Line by line…

The ghosts pound upon this post,
screaming in silence as I stitch
my design.

With a tear falling down my face
and a whisper from my dreams,
I write this poem.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

Riding the waves upon the
sun beams of yesterday,
the star's are colliding
as our systems are failing.

Justice lost its mind
alongside its followers.

The storm has just begun,
the winds are blowing,
rivers are flooding,
ocean's are rising,
COVID is invading.

Will we ever win?

Will we ever become
our dream selves,

Is this life a fleeting explosion
of none scene?

Is it worth the frustration and anxiety?

Who's to stand up for our communities?

Who's responsible for the damages and abuse?

Where's the government?

When people are abusing our screens with uneducated foolish delusional dreams?

Why is no one punishing the
criminals like Margie Greene,
Donald Trump and his supporters?

What happened to the American dream?

Freedom, opportunities and growth
all garbage because of the broken
ideas of broken minds.

America is divided by lies and truth.

Donald Trump never loved you,
he loves nothing but abuse.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

I am that like a dew drop
upon a withering rose,
I’m a bit late to hydrate
its weathered bad,
for death already stole
its last breath.

The perfumed lives of
rose’s, is a lingering
ghost that lives like smoke.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

Between the teeth of monster's
grinde the bone and flesh of
forgotten dreams.

As nightmares wake to shadow
and fear, my mind sail's the
oceans chasma deeply driven
by futures pull.

Reality forever leeps forward
into the depths of colliding
waves of experience.

Upon the rim I ride, I tip
slowly into the center of
lucid dreams like a dancer
dancing with its shadow.

These monsters that I create,
grimly I took a leep.

With a mouth full of inky grit
I spit my passion for expression
as poetry leeps onto the pages.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

Upon my waking hours,
I become a wildflower.

Slowly as my eyes open,
the mist clears, the fog
roll’s me over the hills
in my mind.

As the sun reveals her
glowing smile, dreams
fade into the darkness
as reality lights the world
bringing life to the shadows.

I am slowly aware of my freedom,
it’s like an itch burning to be
itched.

I am fully bloomed.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

I suffer from chronic illnesses,
it's a lonely path sometimes.

No one can see my pain,
it's like a bent shadow of myself.

Avoid of empathy, compassion
and vice, pain doesn't care about
your life, or your plans.

Pain separates us by it's great
chasm between nerve endings
and it's laboured breathe.

Like a thread, pain vibrates
from one end to another
with little resistance.

It comes uninvited for
pain is no one's friend.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

Oh such sorrow upon mornings
break soaks my pillow with
tears of grief.

Darkness vails what I
seek but patients and
company of others softens
the shadows and brings the
light of hope.

My mind wonder’s upon
the possibilities of release
from this doomed existence
that can be so bleak.

It is of heavenly design,
and faith.

To grieve is to know love,
to be released by emotional
stress, its to be freed from
the minds caged thoughts,
seeking meaning.

Ode to grief an unwanted
friend to many.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton