Deceitful lies, unrequainted cries
Sing sweet lullabies

Torched these chains
Yet, still they kept her bound

Freedom at a glance beyond the shutters
A picture much less hopeful to others.

Blistering sun amidst the icy slick trees.





Only fantasies.





A blissful dream, ignorant of reality
A world of escape, a risk she's willing to take.

One step closer, a rigid drop
A big bang, "POP"

Her bubble bursts
She comes back down

Those **** chains,
She's bound.

A touch so familiar for a thousand or so years
drifts away slowly...and abruptly disappears.
Waves crashing dully and precious pearls just waste
the bottom dwellers have a taste.

Disguised as a hero, he dressed highly as a prince
left alone to discover, yet again, she was amiss.
Her eyes led astray in a rosy tinted way
her heart followed loyally, what else was there to say?

Flowers lined the path, daisies, roses, and tulips
each faded and couldn't last, that princess didn't get the hint.
Blindly she continued down that growing starker road
that prince was returning to a toad.

Longer she walked not realizing she was alone
her head held high like a candle in a cone.
She followed crooked trees and dried up yesterdaisies
no one really knew what became of princess Lynn Phasey

She traveled days, weeks, and months
searching for something, she couldn't say just what.
A heart through hell and a dreary twisted forest
beating to swell for a promise once more, yes.

Pondering floats easily on choppy waters
Hope also floats, yet is seldomly seen
It's dragged down by the ships with heavy anchors.

She sits on the bed as the world passes by
time flies on, but she sits still
alone on this bed

people float in and out
none seem to stay
numb isolation

blankly staring, people blurring
world still turning
no one's there
more than she can bear

same old story, bleak and boring
she can't hold them near.
for fear of what they will hear

pride and anger etch this picture
she keeps herself on the bed
nothing more to be said.

The car seems too loud to stand
without music, words, or whir of the engine.

Absence

A loaded void of noise,
echoes our meeting.

Dragged out answers in
one word sputters
speech slowly grows.

A flower yearning for sun.
Her dearest hears what has been longed for,
her sweet voice,
a daisy transformed.

Blooming, the speech continues on
babbling like a young brook in spring
open and free, too soon shut down.
Confusion to the birds and bees...
ravens and wasps.

Clouds grow heavy with sorrow,
the daisy disintegrates under their tears
quietly she sits back.
Crimson leaflets tightly pursed and locked;
silken petals like stone
her silence stronger than words.

Densely fogged
under caked make-up from yesterday's tears
fakely disguised beneath the crowd
of masochists and nonbelievers

Hearts plead and bleed as one
based upon no one at all
seething fear pounded through fists of rage
anguish of lost hopes and lost causes

Where do I go
for whom do I show
should I grieve
for a land that is no more than make believe?

Despairing and looking for cheap cigarettes
they gather on their gravelly haven
spurning the world and hating
what it's become
nothing but **** and ***

Those who came before us
naive double standards fearing our new status
the putrid stench of change clings to our chains
burdened by the nonbelievers

Where do I go
for whom do I show
should I make believe
in the world we grieve