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 May 2017 AnonymousFerret
Jeremi
Let it be, I always say
The whole night, the entire day
Life always has its own way
Let it be, I always say

I will get through this, I pray
Keeping all my tears at bay
Let them be, I always say
The whole night, the entire day.
just watch them
I made my escape on that glorious day,
Seemed bleak at first but I made my way.
My suitcase was packed,
Riding the bus that would finally take me back.

Asking no one for favors, I embarked on this alone, yes, the ship sailed and the plane was flown.
To be far away from here, and all those near and dear, would grow to know loss like a common fear.

But my planet crashed, my ship sunk

I woke up.

Track marks scattered, floral robes tattered, Narcan kissed my vain, and became the pilot of that plane.

Oh to my dismay, in a room filled with fake smiles and "you're okay."
***** repair, blood pressure flair, on and on like a revolving door.

Ten thousand "sorry's", and a desperate party to see me sing and act.
With my IV leash, attached to a snarling beast, I gave them what they paid for.

So now I'm stuck where I started, wishing I departed, and made it all the way.
But I do how they do, and do what they say. Nothing is my own, not even the day.

My passion is gone, I exist without hope, I'm forced to breathe,and to shadow the pope.

You see, the pilot is to blame, he saved my body, but killed my heart with shame.

But I'll get my revenge, and I will live again, or save up for another ticket. But you will feel sorrow, for all of my gray tomorrow's pouring down from an endless spigot.

For you trapped me here, my exit was near, and freedom would have rang true. All that are dear, ridden with fear, and the one to blame is you.

Blame can run no where else, vindication sleeps in your bed, you played god and raised me from the dead.

You
made
me
live.
 Mar 2017 AnonymousFerret
Slam
I am beneath my skin
I hide myself within
What you see is my body
So real like everybody's

There is war within me
The clashing of authenticity
What makes the ideal
Who am I that is real

From my skin to my bones
I am tough as stones
Deep inside I am alone
I am no king sitting on a throne

I am free from chains
But a slave to the influence of chance
Falling for the hope of unknown
Trying to pull myself closer to be known

The darker my heart gets
When the light illuminates
Who I am is what I think
In my shadows I am at sink

Everything I see in the mirror is reality
Untouchable but seen
Scared from the feelings
The shadows that live within
You tell the tale of your perfect life
But you can't even undress your wife
Or spend a weekend with your kids
And visit your parents that you didn't miss.

You spread your arms to boast your wealth
But you didn't even mind your health
All those luxuries to feed your hungry ego
Can't fill you up and every night you bellow.

You act like a king in your tiny office
But you're just a parrot caged in your petty worries
In a cramped up square of your own limits
A boring building of dancing digits.

You spend the night with your circle of friends
But they don't really appreciate your presence
Wrapped inside your own bubble of vanity
A suffocating sphere nobody wishes to be.

You claim to be a man of godly proportions
But you're a sad case that needs divine intervention
Your life is certainly a rare work of art
But Leonardo da Vinci would tear you apart.
There's a monument outside of town
I go there when the sun goes down
And I listen....

The names upon that granite slab
Are worn and rusted, slightly drab
Still  I listen

There's a silence hanging in the air
Hiding the thoughts of those not there
And I listen

I sit upon the steps below
In rain, or sun, and even snow
And I listen

Thirty men remembered here
Though none of them are buried near
So I listen

I've met others beneath this pigeon roost
Whose spirits I have tried to boost
As I listen

I wait to hear them from the grave
The voices of the dead, the brave
And I listen

None has spoken out to me
I know they watch and they see
As I listen

I keep watch throughout the night
I head home when it is daylight
And I listen

During the day there's too much noise
To hear the voices of these boys
But, I listen

So each night as the sun goes down
I venture once more out of town
And I listen

I listen.....
My body ages…
as words stay young

Gentler written,
  more often sung

Fond memory’s child…
  youth starts to rage

All gray outside,
  blue-blonde the page

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
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