what does it mean
when home
no longer feels like
home?

Silence,     screaming lies
The lion in the sun
Bathing     in the bubbling      s p r i n g s
The grass towards the sky kissing
Lips, dead or try
Harder, faster,      cry
Now,   again   , on high--
The pastor, to the choir
Sing PRAISE                        Hallelujah...
Lord!     Oh my and my fingers
Round' your ears, caressing skin
Me alive, as long as I'm here
                                           By your side.

The breath from her lips my enchanting vice.
She calls with silent motive in fluid flight, My name
I hear my name on the crest of her *****
In the break of the wave I'm an Argonauts Knight
Beckoning to my Siren.

My Heart races in the ocean foam
My blood marches to your pheromones
She's the promise, a prism of Masters eye
Mystique proscenium.

Her smile floods my thirsty soul
Jealous as the west wind embraces
Truth is you're more than mortality speaks of
You bathe in the full moon of my mind
Where visions echo dreams
That make me race to you at night

THAT'S NOT FOR ME

Oh, no--that's not for me
this crowded mass-chatter
and clamour
of the market-place
(so many expectant faces
so eager to make quick deals
and enter into ' attractive' transactions-
money talks
titles are displayed
claims are loudly made)
' I am Sir Richard Bull--
Chairman of Rich & Pull
that's my Rolls--over there
yes,  can you see?'

the lust, the greed, the flattery
hands too ready to grasp-
the temptation is just too strong
opportunities not to be missed-
' Quick, quick before that item
is snatched by someone else'
(fortune favours the quick and the greedy)
the oozing of fake charms
' Oh, you made my day'
shoulder-rubbing
back-patting
even stranger-hugging (as long as there is gain)

here I don't belong
I want to be free

the noise drowns me
the air pollutes me
the smoke blinds my eyes
I must flee
before the contagion
seizes me

only one brief life
no more than a tiny fragile leaf
in the tree of nowhere
buffeted by wild winds
which shake and toss me everywhere
suspended in time
between the here and now
and the hazy time to come
I am but drift-wood
in the nameless sea
where would the gentle landing be?

only this I know-
tempus fugit- verily-
that which will bring
all things
to their final inexorability

and why should I
bother about that
which would bring me
but misery?

all that glitters is not gold
in the market-square
but dross and soot
dust and sand
(sadly most people don't understand)

I have saved myself
from this mindless debacle

to be free
is the only way
to be happy.

Words,
Thoughts,
Emotions,
And life
Surrounds me in one.
As I begin to write
It all turn into fun, then as I continue,
It starts to turn into violence, and shoot out like a gun.
Everything is so peaceful,
In other people eyes,
But the stream of words,
Titles
And thoughts keep coming in remind,
That I am a poet.
I get the urge to write.
I’m like a crack addict,
Addicted to writing, staying up all night.
Afraid to stop.
Paranoid that the words will
Stay.
Troubled by my thoughts,
As Ink bleed in repay,
Of redemption and
Sequel  settings
The hard times of one’s life is mine,
Which is not forgetting.
I seem crazy and quite threating to others.
I talk to myself,
Just quiet,
Unexplainable mutters.
Poetry took my heart and ran,
Made it paper thin,
And red ink span,
Grey lead as a tan,
Poisoning my heart, and making it into flying paper
Cranes.
In only minutes,
Seconds,
I am done with a poem,
That is ******* with the ends of my storm.
I am the devoted,
Thoughtless,
Emotionless,
Lifeless,
Poet.



-Marci H.

She stares at her keyboard
wondering what to write next
she has so many things that
need to be said;

I'm tired of hating myself
and aways searching for
people that will accept me
for everything that I am,

I love myself now and I'm glad.

That's all.