If you could change the things you've done
Would you jump and take the chance?
Or would you leave your life alone
And continue with the dance
If you could make some things better
But know that other things would change
Would you keep your life the way it is
Or would you choose to rearrange?
I wish I had a time machine
For I know what I would do
I would travel back into the past
To spend more time with you
I wouldn't change what happened
I would just relive the past
Because I love when we're together
And it's moments you can't grasp
Would you change the job you're doing
Would you make yourself real rich
Remember though if things you change
Time's  fabric drops a stitch
The things you do when you go back
Will change the things now here
So if you do things different
Your life might disappear
You can go make sick folks healthy
But that will change the scope of time
If I changed the things that happened
you may not end up being mine
I wish I had a time machine
For I know what I would do
I would travel back into the past
To spend more time with you
I wouldn't change what happened
I would just relive the past
Because I love when we're together
And it's moments you can't grasp
There are reasons that things happen
And there are  reasons some do not
Would you change the life you're living
For one that you are not?
I know that I'd revisit
The past for just  a while
And I'd leave things just the same
I'd go back to see your smile
I wish I had a time machine
For I know what I would do
I would travel back into the past
To spend more time with you
I wouldn't change what happened
I would just relive the past
Because I love when we're together
And it's moments you can't grasp
I'd leave time just the way it was
I'd do everything the same
That way, nothing would be different
And I wouldn't be to blame.
I wish I had a time machine
For I know what I would do
I would travel back into the past
To spend more time with you
I wouldn't change what happened
I would just relive the past
Because I love when we're together
And it's moments you can't grasp

With his eloquent tongue,
Quick wit,
And grinning eyes.
He made us love him.
He made us feel loved.
If only for a moment.
Then it got ugly.
Suddenly there were questions.
Fighting amongst ourselves.
Betraying one another.
Never trusting.
No one.
Not even ourselves.
He made us weak.
Afraid.
Spiteful.
He turned us into something we're not.
He played us all.
He crushed us.
Or tried to.
Without a thought.
Without a care.
With his crippled black soul,
Deadened eyes,
And withered self.
Hidden behind a handsome mask,
A gentle hand,
His lies.
His fear drove him.
His fear of being realized.
His fear of being alone,
And others seeing him,
As he really is.
For he is dark,
He is apathetic,
He doesn't feel what others feel.
He cannot feel remorse,
Except for in fear of himself.
For he only cares for himself.  
He claims he doesn't care.
He claims to be free.
Free of restraints.
Free of emotion.
Free of love.
But for what he claims is free,
Is imprisoned in fear.
For he is a coward.
Terribly frightened.
Afraid of others.
What they might say.
What they might think.
But mainly he is afraid of himself.
For he knows his noxious soul,
Will one day find him.
Abandoned.
Exposed.
The day he knows he is unloved.
The day he knows he is alone.
Alone with no one but himself.
The one he fears the most.
He will weep.
For nothing is stronger.
Nor more horrifying.
Than facing one's greatest fear.
To open one's eyes.
To face all alone.
The one you despise the most.
To see in the mirror,
The demon you've become,
As no fear is stronger,
Than that of oneself.

I'm sorry, but these words aren't going to spin a story from silver or light up stars in the sky
Sometimes, the poems just can't be beautiful

Beautiful is strange in that it has nothing to do with reality and everything to do with the pupils of your eyes
Like when I was little, I knew I was beautiful
Different beautiful than the other girls in my family-
Like a cherub with ringlet curls in the midst of hour-glass princesses-
But beautiful

I grew up a little and it had the opposite effect than you'd expect
Looking at my tall dancer friends somehow made me more stubbornly insistent that I was beautiful too
But differently, I noticed more now
More chest, more cheeks, all compacted into the rough shape of what a girl should be
So maybe more clasically pretty than a beauty

And then the depression, and then I lost weight
And for the first time, I could slide my hands up my sides and admit to myself that maybe they'd all been right
And that I'd been too fat and
Well, if anything good could come out of the depression it was that I was almost beautiful now,
Beautiful the way the world wanted me to be

And suddenly fear coiled around my throat, a viper paralyzing me with the idea that
I could easily fall back to before
A noose, for every time I tried to put food in my mouth

I started spending too much time by the mirror with my
shirt pulled up to my chest
So I could see the wedges of my ribs pushing through, like weeds cracking headstones at a cemetary
So I could run my hands over my collarbones and marvel at their solidity
Ignoring the cold cavern of my stomach and the shaking of my hands
Determining that 1200 calories a day was the recommendation to
lose weight at my short stature,
So I'd eat that, but somewhere in the back of my head it seemed simpler to round down to a thousand instead

You know what they say the difference between anorexia and dieting is?
They say that dieters have a goal in mind, a weight where they'll be happy whereas anorexics...
In my head, there was no goal, just less and less of me for the world to deal its deck of cards on
Because beautiful didn't matter any more and weightlessness was its replacement

I don't want to be like this
I wasted hours online, by the mirrors, shaking of cold and dizziness in my bed
I don't want to be like this
An alien structure of concavity and wasted bones the only end to this path
I refuse to be like this

I don't know if it works that way
But the laws of physics breakdown at some point anyway and so I will defy my own mind
I have watched this threat hurtle toward me, have seen it with through the pupils of my own eyes,
And it doesn't say very good things about my vision if I let myself be pushed to the side
A leaf ripped away by the wind

I will resist
I will feast on my fears
I will reclaim beautiful as my own, and project it, child-like, on every piece of my world

I refuse to be anorexic
And I will savor every taste of this life I can get
Before I die.

.
The street lamp barely pierces the gloom
as darkness fills up Nature's room.
Any icy breeze blows down the street,
the air is full of rain and sleet.

She stands beneath the murky light,
one of a few out working tonight.
Her clothes do not reflect the weather,
miniskirt, t-shirt, long boots of leather.

Pinprick marks upon her arm reveal
a habit to hide all that she feels.
A daemon that has to be well fed,
from money made in a punters bed.

A low rumble, the quiet is disturbed,
creeping slowly, pulling up at the kerb.
Quick furtive words, a deal is complete,
she opens the door, slides into the seat.

Sometime later she has returned to her place,
crying and shaking, blood on her face.
The blood on her shirt is already dry,
and purple black bruises adorn her eyes.

She does not complain, she does not speak.
It just happens. At least once a week.
There is always one will have his way,
beat her about, and refuse to pay.

Give her a minute to fix her smile,
she will be back in just a short while.
Waiting tartly to be once more defiled,
hoping tonight she can feed her child.

She dreams her daughter will never see
this sick, dark side of her society.
For her sake she hopes to escape
the drugs, the violence, and the ****.

Maybe one eve she will not show
her charms under the street lamps glow.
Has she escaped to a better life instead?
Perhaps she is in the river, floating dead?

But 'til then she walks the pavement.
Big smile, **** out, making a statement.
She won't wait long for another ride,
she will block out whatever happens inside.

And the cycle repeats almost every night,
beneath the lamp with the murky light.
This is her spot, her street, her world.
This is the life of a poor street girl.


© Pagan Paul (03/03/17)

I've known of the man called Freedom,
His eyes pristine and his hands of good gesture,
He gave to all he ever saw,
Even those who wished he'd be dead.
You see, Freedom is a nice man,
He had given us the chance to be one,
Yet some see him as a hindrance,
That he'd be the one to cut the bridge to their horrid ambition.
It's true Hell's already empty,
The Devils are already here!
And they'd tied Freedom to the podium!
And they'd ready their  flames and *****!
"Witness! As this hell of a saint be exposed before your very eyes!"
The Demons wailed and shouted.
"Light the flames! Expose his treacheries!"
As the demons hissed and the ***** lighted.













Freedom speaks.











Friends, my brothers, people of all brethren,
Ramble not, for I shall tell you truth.
Ebb is the fierceness you encounter,
End is the beginning of your hate.
Dawned to me, you have lost your innocence,
On the edge of light and darkness;
Mourning am I to you all.

Never the same are your reasons to fight,
Earnest are you to your reasons,
Vague, yet, are your answers.
Earthbound will be your rationality,
Revolving in wrong, your right.

Demonstrate not crudeness, but kindness,
Ice the hatred and let the good burn within you.
Enough of the foul that has come to be,
Sing the words that are your harmony.













All is silenced.

















Freedom opens his eyes.
The flames, gone.
The hissing, deafened.





















Freedom, is you.

Zinging the zen-zone I was in
A zany request zig-zagged my way.
Princess Zinnia from the Zuider-Zee
Required a zippy line or two
To paint the zeitgeist of our times.

With the strength of a Zamboni-
With the power of a Zeus-
And an uncommon zeal I set out
To zap the doubt that slowed me.

With the flair of a Florenz Ziegfeld
And his zoftig choir of beauties,
I morphed into a zealot
Gamboling in the zephyrs
That wafted in from Zurich and Zaire,
Not to mention Zanzibar.

I felt like a Zacharias
When my zealous work went bust.
The writing turned into a zonk-
The accolades were zilch.
I felt like I’d been zippered up
Like a zebra in a zoo.

I lost my zest for going on
And slopped around in old Zoris,
Listening to zydeco’s beat
And feeling like a zit.

But then the Zodiac-
My zinging-singing sign
Came to my rescue
And I was marching off to Zion.

I was one wowie-zowie-zucchini
As I zipped across the pages
And zoomed from one idea
To an even zippier one.

So here, Sunprincess, is your verse
I’ve used up every letter zee
And gone from very bad to worse
But of this challenge, I am free.
                         ljm

This evening,
slow drizzling,
peace accompanying
eyes drooping
And I start dreaming

This land , I go
The place no one knows

There are unicorns , there are fairies
There are roses , there are lilies
There is rainbow ,There is waterfall
But there is no worry at all

This is my hiding place ,
A place ,where my joy stays
A place ,where stress goes away
A place ,where I hideaway from trouble
A place , where I stay inside the bubble
A place that protects me from reality