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 Jun 2014
Poetic T
I was alive
Death has spoke,
The last breath taken
Exhaled is life,
Inhaled is the word of death.

The after life has spoken
Decay is the word,
Bones are thrown
To tell the future,
Of those who live.

But only time will tell,
For those who throw
   May end up
Being the future told
That which is death.
#Death #life
 Jun 2014
Camellia-Japonica
My spirit is one that has been through much.
My eyes have witnessed too many tears.
My heart has ached, and felt like granite.
My soul is imprisoned by good and evil.

And, yet I feel a spiritual need to cling to hope.
Spirituality is there for those who have been to Hell and back,
(So they say)
I've glimpsed Hell in my family, through secrets and lies,
they multiply, until you lose count.

Now, I wasn't beaten, molested or deprived,
I just had to live in a village where everyone knew everything.
About you, your family, your soul. Imagine that.
No freedom to be unique. To be you.

You kick, you scream, you try to be free, to flee,
but, the village brings you back,
time and time again.
It feeds off your fear, your hate.

Village life is not quaint, picturesque,
or even idyllic, it's full of grudges,
jealousy, hate and even ******,
(or two)

Families feuding over long forgotten grudges.
Families related, through marriage and hate.
Families haunted and taunted by their past.
Families dying with secrets on their lips, and in their hearts.

Along with this came religion,
as many chapels as pubs.
And as many ghosts as the living.
Walk through my mind, walk through my village.

Come, meet the dead
© JLB
21/06/2014
 Jun 2014
Poetic T
My life has chances,
Different ways to go,
I have a chamber of six
Different places
Different ways to go.

Each day is a chance
We may survive
It could be our last
Who knows.

I have the barrel to my heart
So my times broken,
What is one more.
My heart beats
I hear it in my throat
In each breath,
Will this be my last beat of my heart.

Click goes the trigger,
No end to my heart,
It beats another beat
I will not leave this world
With a broken heart.

Five ways to go,
Then four,
Then we get to three.

I put the barrel in my mouth,
So much trouble this has caused,
So many regrets I have said with words,
I gag on the barrel too far did it go,
I ease it back
Gripping
Biting the barrel,
The last word
Through the gap in my mouth
O god
I pull the trigger,
Sweat on my brow
As it expels air in to my mouth.

I spin again,
To my temple it goes,
I am thinking to much,

I have had four chances,
I two ways to go,
Thoughts,
Regrets
Sorrow
Happiness,
Hate,
Love,
So many thoughts,
I just pull the trigger,
They Say a mind is a terrible thing to waste,
Over the wall I'd agree
As one again the chamber,
Is empty.

I have one spin left,
I Spin
I look at the me.
I point it pull the trigger,
The bullet shatters the glass,
Shards on the floor,
I look at my many reflections,
I had six spins of fate
Six ways to go.

I am alive,
It is not my time to go,
I realise we have choices
To live,
To give up,
To end it,
To carry on.

I choose to live my life,
To take it one day at a time
My life is like the shards of the mirror
When all looked at,
Life can be seen in so many ways.
#suicide #Death #bullets #hate #love #mirror #reflection
 Jun 2014
Poetic T
I have a voice,
I wish it to heard,
My way is right,
All must believe what I say is right.

I will tell what you must do,
For if you do different,
Then the punishment will be dealt on you,
Our way is right,
By force we will show you.

We will show through brutality,
To those who are not us,
Those who do not believe,
Those of a different faith.

We spread are word,
Fear,
Hate,
Intolerance.

We are the new order.
 Jun 2014
Camellia-Japonica
We fight delicately, sniping, taking and giving verbal punches.
Our skin doesn't bruise, maybe our egos our minds,
but our bodies no.
Our velvet arguing is seamless, flawless.
Anyone listening would hear witty repartee.
A couple playfully bantering, no more.
Polite meritorious armament of words.
Primed to fire a salvo of cruelty.
Cruelty, covered and handled with crushed velvet gloves.
Textured, cultured, arguing.
Polite parrying, pleasant resentment.
A bottle of wine, remnants of a meal, wounds needing to heal.
Less or more cruel than a punch? This seamless linguistic pain.
Bruises fade, pain subsides, mental cruelty resides.
© JLB
17/06/2014
 Jun 2014
Ryan Jakes
The look on your face
as you realised you were still here
sent me reeling and shattered my soul
as your tiny voice in the silence cried "why?"
"Signs are good" update.
The time has come for me to go
the truth has been made clear
within the writing on the wall
I do not belong here.

I've hidden here in shadows dim
not reaching for the light
my heart will cast no shadow now
as broken wings take flight

But rest assured that you are loved
within me you will stay
with heavy heart I leave you now
on this my dying day.
 Jun 2014
Ryan Jakes
I wish I'd closed my ears
late last night.
I wish I hadn't heard
the riot you put as my ringtone.

It was him.
Defences shot up at his voice
usually gruff and hateful
now tear drenched and fearful.
My mind played word tag
filtering out emotion.
Found, out cold, machine breather, for now.

Today they'll wake you
from my nightmare
and plunge you back into yours.

They say "the signs are good"
A term I find strange.
How can a purposeful dance with death
Ever be a good sign.
 Jun 2014
Ryan Jakes
I'm feeling a little bit prickly
Like the ******* son of a porcupine
created on a misspent night with an over amorous cactus.

I'm trying to shake it off,
staring at blank paper
while it flips me the bird
as I **** into the wind,
feeling like the next government health warning
model looks on a ***** billboard
my edges tattered

Friends'll get you nowhere but down
thats life in a nutshell
pettiness and spite reign all
in "hallowed halls"
however nicely put.

Calls unanswered, messages lost
delivery reports mock my waiting
and bristle my backbone
with their happy chimes.
I want to slap myself so hard that my skin rings
but to what purpose.

Stupid is as stupid does,
the new mantra
stick it on a t shirt for the "tourists"
with the obligatory hashtag
for the smiley faced patronisers
.com .org  .bored
Just decided that whatever pops into my brain was gonna end up on here and that I wouldn't read before posting....there's probably a name for that within poetic rules but who cares....not me.
 Jun 2014
Poetic T
My jacket it is a snug fit,
It has shiny buckles,
They gleam in the light,
Above my head.

I have to wear this,
It is my blanket at night,
It comes in one colour,
Bright white.

I may struggle,
But this jacket
I will live in the rest of my days,
I see them looking through
My window in to my World.

All white like my jacket,
Padded walls,
comfy floors.

They think this will calm my thoughts,
But I just see red,
Anger,
Blood,
Hate.

I will always wear my jacket,
I will stay here for the rest of my days,
I love my jacket that I wear each day and night.
 Jun 2014
Poetic T
Old doesn't mean sell by date,
It holds knowledge,
Stories to be told,
I may seem useless,
But I know more than you right now.

My parts not as good as they were,
But I still have many years on the clock,
I could show you a thing or two.

I'm not meant to be just left in a room,
Feeling like I'm a burden to those younger than me,
I feel like I have been thrown away,
Forgotten,
Disused,
No longer of use,
But I am not passed my sell by date,
I'm human just like you.
we must respect those in wiser years they could still do so much and teach us a thing or two.
 Jun 2014
Poetic T
She was hunted by a witch,
Who was to **** her
By the name of white.
She sent the woodsman
To put an end to her young life.

Caught up in the woods,
She begged for her life,
On her knees, she did the deed.
Wood was in her mouth,
  Down the back of the throat licking
Lips after the deed.

Be gone said the woodsman,
She had secured her freedom.
She did run, into the woods
she found a home,
She smashed a window to escape
the cold.

She undressed and lay on the bed.
Asleep she did fall, then awoken,
She was startled as seven little men
Stood around the bed.
Do you like what you see?
If you let me hide here,
I will thank you in ways that a princess is taught,
I can be naughty as well as nice.

They talked and said all right,
She pleasured most of them through out the night.
Happy was used and abused,
But he left the room smiling from left to right.
One did leave the room with a grumpy face,
He liked his kin and sleeping with a woman
Had never felt right.

So through the night,
She showed them things
That only princes usually get to see,
And for a while they lived all happily.

Her name was white,
But she was anything but that.
She had the stamina
To keep these little men all happy,
Content they could live with that.

But time went on,
The queen had found by rumour,
Where she not so pure was at.
A plan was made to
End her life.

A candy apple sold at the door,
She said her thanks an shut the door.
She liked hard things in her mouth,
Licked with her tongue,
Took a bite and passed out.

She was found
When the little men came home.
In tears they where,
As they would once again
Have to use the wooden doll.
Splinters were never fun to pull out,
Used by many it was cleaned a lot out.

She was put in a casket made of glass,
Still a beauty to behold.
As word spread,
Princes from across did try to find.
But only one had found white,
A kiss on the lips
Would break a curse out right.

His lips pressed hard,
and a confused look,
as the kiss was salty on his lips.
Happy smiled as he didn't have a care,
A mouth is a mouth warm it was
When he pushed it in and out.
So he used it to satisfy his urges,
No one would know
As he did it in the dark of night.

She awoke startled,
So much time had past.
I am your prince,
I heard tale of a gargling princess
named as white.

They travelled the land
To avenge her near death,
By the queen of night.
Swords drawn,
The seven little men by her side,
They confronted the queen.

She said do you know what she did?
This woman called white.
She slept with my son,
My husband and me.
Turning each against the other,
Until I was the only one left out of three.

Her name is white,
But she is any thing but that.
She will turn one against the other.
She must die for her crimes against me.
With that the prince looked on,
As she said all is true.

But queen you liked what I did
Before you found out,
That I played your family.
You all got what was deserved
I have no regrets with that.

Then with sword in hand
She killed the queen
With a sword through the heart.
She turned her sights
On the eight men.
The prince fought well
But she was too good.
His head left his shoulders
Ending his life.

The seven were no match for her.
Drenched in red,
But named white,
As all were slain.
She smiled sitting at her rightful place,
The queen of white
That went on to conquer many lands
 Dressed in red but named white.
 Jun 2014
Poetic T
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your
hair, as her golden locks came slithering
down, a secret hidden.

Razor wire underneath, as it wrapped
around. Controlled from above, it cut
and shredded poor Flyn surrounded by
blonde blades, a smile from above.

A look of fear as her hair twisted tighter,
a thousand cuts, tortured by the girl in
the tower.

Never was it to keep love out, because all
that love has been a mirage of beauty,
hidden was her sin. She preferred to unleash
pain and death to those who thought she
was a prisoner within.

The girl in the tower not as fair as the tale
had once said. Hidden from those that she
wishes to do harm, the bushes fed by the
blood and bodies buried in shallow graves
around.

She was beauty that hid a darkness within,
her hair of blonde hiding death within,
nourished by the blood of those lacerated,
with the blades within.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel in a tower so high, to
keep you hidden from the world, for inside
the beauty is a secret, that is locked in this
tower, forever hidden protecting those from
the fairy tale lie.
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