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Avondale Kendja Jun 2015
The anger I didn't have has Vulcan's hands;
it forms new bonds, breaks the old
dogma of alienation.
Broke from the shield of the one's who
raised me; love bonds and bands.
  
    It was not quite fear,
   Yet not waiting to take the stage.
   More a self-induced cage
   of denial and artificial bliss.

It was a long time coming, but I'm growing up.
I'm starting to reach the heaven,
Nirvana, true bliss
Olympus, I will sit with the gods  
  born of a vain, mortal mother.
And I'm starting to to realize  that
I am alone, and I will be
happy, whether Time will be by my side.

It is time to deal with the hurts,
and struggles,
and mistakes. This time, they'll be
mine to deal with.

Ignorance is not bliss, not for them,
Not for me,
Anymore.
Avondale Kendja Jun 2015
Beauty is forever parallel to power in this life:
The hungry souls, crying out;
Unfufilled, empty dreams turned sour: I sharpen my knife.

Divide and conquer the spirits the spirits; no given peace in the afterlife.
Give power to the beaten! but mask the drought.
Beauty is forever parallel to power in this life.

Take shame for husband, vanity for wife.
Empty yourselves of such a notion as doubt;
Unfufilled, empty dreams turned sour: I sharpen my knife.


It birthed destruction of a white rose, resentment the midwife.
You and I lost, no surviving the mirrored bout.
Beauty is forever parallel to power in this life.

I try to adhere to your eye with it rife
As ego's pressure on a soul's sacred route;
Unfufilled, empty dreams turned sour: I sharpen my knife.

Under ice and snow my own soul cries, and in strife
It marches against my beauty, of which I am devout.
Beauty is forever parallel to power in this life.
Unfufilled, empty dreams turned sour: I sharpen my knife.
Avondale Kendja May 2015
You are not what I want,
I wish you'd stop "loving" me.
How am I supposed to know Love?
She eludes me on her angel wings until
  my branches can reach
  what humans ignore above us.
And I can't blame her.
I wish I could hide, too.

You, with your angst and growing needs;
They aren't forefront in my mind
As I am for you
  A swan at her best,
  A cuckoo at her worst,
And if possible, I'd dazzle all
  with my blue-green plumage.

I wish I was ready;
I can't fly just yet.
Avondale Kendja May 2015
Something happened here, before I woke up.
I know that there was more than substance; ruins,
But several bombs over the years have developed and tested me.
And the worst part is I can't remember.

The suffocating dust, bleached bones, and dilapidated buildings
are all that is left of before,
but I don't want to go back in there.
I'll only be reminded of the lost thoughts and misreality.
So I trudge into the the wide void of caked dirt,
hot sand,
and mirages.
To start all over, and no one left from before,
left with complex remorse.

What is the use of survival? Alone and confused
with budding thoughts; unwelcome
What did I do?
Avondale Kendja May 2015
Little "us" beneath the stairs
Passing notes, the other knows not;
Our souls doubt, but our hearts bares
Secret, surreal urges we fought.
No one truly knows how hard we tried and try
Not to hurt the loved with us then.
We aren't  ourselves, addicts of of the high.
"This is too good to stop", our natural zen.
A connection of imperfect spirits; so full of "us"/dust
We forget the lives we have built
With them, the ones we truly trust.
"Us" is just a fainter breeze, yet exhiliarating.
We can't stop, even as reality is fading
Avondale Kendja May 2015
"Applebee" was your name for me, the old one
gone away with the old me.
She stood there, waving to all new lovers.
Never belonged with the times, so unlike a standing tree.
She had no story to tell and was spinning .
An unripe apple, green and hard,
forever to stay hidden under 100 years.

With the appearance of seasoned hands, I
softened; you'd always be there.
You'd say, "Applebee"
I'd say "Willow, willow, willow..."
to reply, to show how I knew I'd slip into a game I'd lose.
Don't hear me, because I feel that we are prehistoric, waiting for our Mother to take us back.
I know we'll never stop, there will be more times like ours.
But I also know we are done whenever we begin.

Gods are forgotten in another hundred years,
but you alone , are different.

You
were just an immortal, neither holy, nor sinner
creature for a angel,
Oak and green pine for a willow,
An elder for a lover,
A beautiful and miserable secret kept between a generational pair
like us.
Avondale Kendja May 2015
Fear is a constant friend for me in this old town,
It numbs, yet excites in the men's old tin drums.
Everything else runs away and hides in the imminent
  twilight.
It keeps us old folk happy, and us young folk safe, even if I'm
anesthetized in street dances.

The love of your life is in that next building, honey, looking over his footprints for the future.
  And if he's not it, live with it. Keep Him happy, so that you're safe.
  Never stop fearing...
Love was never in the cards for any of us;
why would it happen for me? I wasn't any more than us.
A distant longing quenches a soul with doubts for only so long though
...making the white hum and breed black.
  A lone sound amongst the silence with its soul thirsts for what has been hidden.
  There's no sign of true life without something more, bigger than you and us.
  How can there be, when true loss is unpredictable, our founders said.
  It has already been spoken in a prophecy...
    
   Perhaps, for me it is different, what then?
Do you pity me?
  them? I do.

But there's something wrong with the little party I didn't plan, yet didn't cancel.
There were people overseas, beside you and me that have died for what   I have been avoiding. Why?
    Perhaps my own parade needs a little rain,
    or a blazing hellfire to make way for the reality?
The transfiguration I've been dreaming for,
has watched me, and cried for me while I watched the town parade,
riding on my dad's shoulders.

But we have been anointed by the bravery and hope I've dreamed about when I saw us walk away.

We need to leave this ghost town,
where beasts of my blood  roam the streets. Where fear
overtook me and mated
with me in an incestuous ceremony.
  A true joining of true , lost ones
  Created in the beginning to love
  lost their way, found home
  with the one and only
Reason, not to fear....a goodbye.
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