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An infinite joke was played upon me
When I realized paradise
Was nothing more than but a dream
The illusion feigned proof
Distorted my reality
Blinded to the truth
Overwhelmed by too much of what I feel
Unaware of my inability to see
Beyond my own hopes
Of making this dream corporeal
Seeds for birds, and seeds for me. 
Seeds that grow for me a tree.
Nature grows, and flows, is free;
As the way I share my seeds.
More from my poetic banterings
Yonder burns the vigil,  that beacon that guides me ever closer to the hearth where I once lain the burden of my  innocence with another on that faux bare skin rug. If only I could reclaim it, but only to surrender it again.
I was bantering some poetric quips with a buddy last night. I really dig when that happens. Poetry is its own beautiful language.
a lifetime is not sufficient to Love

a person completely,

same is the case of hatred

it's hard to understand a person completely

because of this lack of understanding we do try to defame some people
Don't judge a book by it's cover
Copyright Louis Brown

There is a past age
That no one can alter
And tomorrow will be
What tomorrow will be

But here in the middle
Is one precious moment
A quicksilver instant
That challenges me
Unburdens the dusky river

dreams of flow dead in the bog of hyacinth
harvest burnt in the scorch of aridity
ripples robbed by the silt of dogma
sunbeam denied by the **** of creed


I was meant to reach the sea,
now I would never make it.


I pick the river's shattered pieces
with my own from the wintry dusk.
She doesn't recite poems in the darkish sunset

like golden corns dying to be reaped
she needs a hand to cut her through
reach to where a fleshless lust is still not ember.

Seasons come and fly away.

Her own poems withering
she pines for one simple nest
to rest.
Merry revellers
cast one glance on me
before your mind wavers
throw me one penny

My eyes are deep in socket
but ears are sharply keen
catch jingles in your pocket
silver's pompous din

Pray not be too aloof
need a lil of your pity
a penny can't buy a roof
can buy a crumb for belly

It wouldn't hurt you much
for one less from too many
merry revellers before you rush
toss my way one penny.
Being dark, goth, emo, scene, or anything else...
None of these are true.
I am not a label society has given me.
I am not dark.
I am not emo.
I am not goth.
I am not scene.
I am not gay.
I am not dumb.
I am not an outcast.
I am who I am.
I am me.
For the ones who are persecuted just for being who they are. The names all these kinds of people are called are not real names. They're just labels, and no one is a label. Everyone is human, and just the same. They are not indifferent, and they are not emotionless. If anything, they see the world differently, in a way that "normal" people cannot see because of how blind they truly are.
Just close your eyes
From the hatred
From the rejections
From the sufferings
From the pain
From the anger
From the corrupt
From the cruel
From the bullies

Just close your eyes
But not your mind

Open your mind
And fight all the injustice
And make others' eyes open

For a better world
For a better tomorrow
For a better planet !

Just close your eyes
But don't be blind

Just close your eyes,
To recollect the energy in you
To be the sight for the real blind!

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