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This is Me.
The final part.
From one broken home,
to one broken heart.

Hidden behind the mask
of the old porcelain doll,
cracked and tortured.
I have seen it all.

Uncombed hair
and clothes that are rag,
Behold my feelings,
I am but sad.

No one would listen,
during my youth,
when I was a young man
or drinking my *****.

The alleys were dark
with walls caving in.
Hearing voices inside me,
that's where it begins.

Sitting alone,
by one candle light,
I saw pen and paper,
blown by surprise.

I started to talk,
with the pen in my hand,
writing muse on the pulp,
trying my hand.

I was confused,
my words were a mess.
To me, there just jumbles,
I must confess.

I read them back,
and started to sigh,
Because this is my sad story,
It made me  cry.
Part 4 of 4
What is snow
Flakes of frozen precipitation
A blanket of winter's grasp
Holding you with its icy grips.

Or is it simply reminders
Reminders that no matter how many people there are
We are all unique
And free.

Snow flakes remind us
of what it means to be human
Always Different
Ever changing
Always moving
hurting others when we all gather up at once
Covering our tracks everyday
sometimes doing a good job of it.

Once we compare ourself to nature,
we soon realize how much we really aren't different at all,
How insignificant in the vast universe,
Why is it so hard for some of us to grasp?

We are all our own little snow flake.
 Oct 2014 Emmanuel Coker
Q
I'll write a letter
To those who matter
Because, though I won't be there to see
I want to imagine the faces of those
Who I'm not writing to.

I'll write a note to him because he still intrigues me
It'll be a cowardly note that says everything I couldn't
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins,
I'll pray he didn't care for me
I'll pray it doesn't hurt him
Because he doesn't deserve it.

I'll write a note to her because she's his
And he's hers and that still hurts me somedays
And because I love her like I love him:
In a million, million ways.
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins
I'll pray she's enough to get him to stay
I'll pray she doesn't care so she'll be okay.

I'll write a note to her because she birthed me
And I'll explain the importance of contraception
And I'll tell her I don't blame her and give absolution
And then take it back in the next sentence.
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins
I'll pray she hurts until she can barely breath
In the same breath, I'll pray she forgets me
And uses the rest of her life to be as free as she wanted to be.

I'll write a note to him because he's my sister
And I'll explain the way I hate him and do hate him
And I'll explain the way I never stopped feeling the rage
Of every single wrong he did me over the years
And then I'll forgive him because he doesn't need me to
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins
That he'll understand the simplicity and importance of tact
I'll pray that he gets everything he wants in life
I'll pray he understands why I couldn't wish that
While there was still air in my lungs.

I'll write a note to him because I hate him and I love him
And it'll explain the way child abuse lingers for years
And it'll say how much I wanted to see his grave before my own
And it'll say how I never wanted to see anyone live forever besides him
And it'll explain how he hurt me by withholding unconditional love
It will explain how little I cared after the first decade crept by
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins
And I'll turn over to pray
I'll pray he gets what he's due
I'll pray he finally dies
I'll pray he gets some happiness
And I'll do it all in one word: Why?

Those are the notes I'd write.
No one else I'd explain to.
Those are the people who've impacted my life.
If I keep death bare and simple.
I'm not crying this time.
I'm not just on the brink, about to go
I'll think, just as I always do
But there's no indecision anymore.
This is not a place I want to be
Not a life I want to live
But I still have a single ambition
I've still got one last wish.

So I'll do it.
I can be my own shooting star.
I'll get that last dream done
And open a vein? Or step in front of a car?
When I'm done with that I'll write a will
Containing three items:
Burn all my stories and poetry, delete my existence
Cremate my body, funerals are too expensive.
Be honest in my death, express your abhorrence.
The sky falls down,
we try to see through the mist,
reaching out in desperation,
we touch the unknown.
Poetry deserted her
Words
Are all dried up in her heart
she desperately
tries to gather
her scattered thoughts
as her heart bleeds blue
09/28/2014
An Angel and a Demon, above the world, filled with chaos and destruction. Debating over saving humanity or letting it fall into devastation.....

This world is worth saving,
You see the good ones down there,
Praying and helping?  
Good beats evil, every time.
Letting things fall apart would be a crime.


My angelic friend, you're too high in the sky,
Grace us; come down from that ivory perch.
It won't take much to see through the lies,
Not much at all, to see what they're worth.


Dear demonic soul, don't you know?
Their worth is not in question.
Their value is more than our weight in gold,
Have some more appreciation!


Right--between war, the crucifixion and ****,
These humans are just such lovely things.
They aren't filled with a single ounce of hate,
Oh, come now! See the atrocities they bring!


The things you say may be true,
But there's so much good down there.
Remember Noah and the Renaissance?
The missionaries and volunteers, they still care!


Oh, goodness! Yes, how could I forget?
******* Priests with their souls to sell?
Rich lead the depraved farther into debt?
Your precious world is going straight to Hell!


No, you monster! How dare you talk like that!
These are human beings, not toy things.
They'll prove you wrong, peace is coming.
Go tell your puppet master to cut his strings!


Don't PREACH to me of puppetry, fairy!
Whatever happened to your God's free will?
Compared to Earth, Hell isn't that scary!
**** rat race! ***, money, egos, and thrills!


I'll preach what I have to, to save these humans souls,
Spineless creature.. You're wrong on so many levels!
I can't wait to dance with glee, while you unravel,
Dragging your worthless shell back home to the Devil!


I guess the horrors before you aren't enough,
You must want your sandbox to turn to doom.
These aren't falsehoods--this isn't a bluff,
Say what you will; Hell's running out of room!


.... And there Angel and Demon bickered, for what seemed an eternity. Purity prospered in parts, where death and deprivation brought others into declension. At odds and ends, they both returned home, leaving Earth to fend for its own.
Such an amazing experience collaborating with the great Frank Ruland,  we enjoyed this so much!  Hope you all like it too!
The Past is the Past ..
loneliness creeps right in..
the heart stops for a second
makes one wonder and ponder what is going on..
Tears fall like raindrops on a dry day in March
Spring slowly creeps in and surrounds us like the misty dew that it is..
those that shine through the deep mist of life will be like fallen snow ..
that sparks through the distant on the edge of the inevitable fade of the life that once begun..
Folds of mountain streams
like a breathe of nature's curves
spreading around the cascading rain
the moments I felt I belonged
were seconds that I was actually  alone
nothing familiar comes my way
as I lay here in this forgotten grave



Blessing my friends..
Debbie Brooks 2014
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