Claiming same *** relations
To be the pitfall of a nation
Cleansing complete souls
Causing shattering and holes
In the name of fictitious practise
Of a religion that asks us to act as
A dictated definition of normal.

A savage hypocrisy
Between finding love
And finding acceptance
With belief that
Same *** relations
Calls for some repentance.
We forced kids out of homes
Pushed adults to take their lives
Yet still claim we support
Their conquest for love.
Where kids held their heads in shame
As though they are ones to blame
For all the wrong turns the world gives
And all the insults they receive
cut deep into a part their flesh doesn't enter,
Into their hearts.

We tried to play god,
Generate a society of facade
And the resulting chaos,
Heartache and suffering
is merely a start.
So until same *** relations
Is fully accepted
We'd always be indebted
To those who walked
In silent shambles,
Indebted to those
Who became voiceless
Not from fear
But from tireless
Nights wide awake
Struggling between themselves.

We tried to play god,
But instead god played us.

I've met boys like you.
Sweet, so sweet.
I've met three, to be exact.
It took a year for the third
Three months for the second
Just a day for the first
To hurt me.
All three in different ways.
All three haunting me.
Part of me wonders how long it will take for you
To hurt me.
A bigger part of me doesn't want to find out.

He posts a poem
He sits and waits
Hoping people can relate
To the words on his pad.

He posts a poem
He keeps eyeing for comments
Hoping for critics and commends
To show his words have value.

He posts a poem
Silence.
Finally peace
With his internal demons,
He posts a poem
To silence the torment
His words completely absorbent,
Killing each demon within him.
He posts a poem
To extinguish the flame
That is to blame
For all his sadness and despair.
He posts a poem
Not for anyone else,
But for himself,
A seemingly innocent task
But an internal cry for help.
HELP!!!...

Silence,
Once again
As he posts this poem.

In 9 seconds it'll all be over
You'd hope you weren't sober
As it enters your body.

In 9 seconds it'll all be over
Pray on your four leaf clover
That it'll only last 9 seconds.

In 9 seconds it'll all be over
Time might feel slower
As you resist restraints.

In 9 seconds it'll all be over
But the stench of sweat odour
Will scar your remaining life.

In 9 seconds it'll all be over
You'll feel a burden like boulder
Too heavy to carry.

In 9 seconds it'll all be over
You'll never get true closure
But it's not a choice.

In 9 seconds it'll all be over
As volts of electricity pass your shoulders
And in 9 seconds it'll all be over.

I resist the restraint
That society creates
I see people paint
Outside of lines
Outside of times.

Individuals invested in impromptu
To distinguish themselves old from new
To let out a little light for those with a dimmed view
Just to give chance to dreams and hopes people pursue.
We all face challenges and blockades we have to go through
It's part of being human.
I'm a human, and you are too,

I want to say I love you but
I don't know where the line cuts
Between liking you
And loving you
Between beating red blood
Or beating blue,
I'm confused
Over what's the correct hue
Because when I say I love you,
What does that mean to you?

Does I love you
Mean I'll end up wifing you
Or we'll make one from two.
Does I love you
Means if you speak your words
Like 'wash the dishes' they'll be heard
Or is it more of a proverb,
'Like you can lead a horse to the lake
But you can't make him drink the water'.

I think my I love you
Is a complete different view,
It's a taste
Of sweet sugar on a rainy day,
The taste
Of cake eaten yesterday,
It's sweet.
It's more than sweet though,
It's a sight,
It's an array of lights to form a show
Like how I'll show you my life lighting up
When you repeat those same I love you's.
My I love you's
Is a sound
Not the rattling of chains
To keep two souls bound
But the sounds of bells
That gets dented and dinged by cupids arrows.
My I love you's
Is the smell of fresh roses
That tickles the noses
And shows how I'll keep you closest.
My I love you's
Are more than that,
Because even I don't know my I love you's
Because it's a sentence
I haven't put meaning to,
Not until I finally met you.

I've heard of men
Dying at war
Answering nations call
Or coming back
With a burden
Known as PTSD.

I've heard of hearts
Bursting from hatred
Flames igniting monks
To defend what is sacred
I've heard of hearts
Healing from love
And flames burning
For progression of
A society.

I've heard of people dying
At a battlezone whilst
Watching the alive
Die with them,
All suffering the same fate
Yet I'd never imagined
That racism somehow survived
Kept breathing and alive
By bigots who have no better cause
To fight for.
Racism somehow survived
By the flames that burnt
Destruction upon society
Rather than progression,
Racism somehow survived
As though bigots
Lacked the knowledge of sobriety,
Left their brain intoxicated
From all the colors they hated
Till they became rotten.
How the **** did racism survive,
When we couldn't even bring our soldiers home alive?

Brushstrokes upon the canvas
Drew herself in middle Kansas
Still wearing the bright red shoes
That sparkled like it was new.

Paint dries upon the coloured canvas
She felt like she needed more practice
As each paint spot smeared and smudged
But the brush held won't bend or budge.

The artist didn't change her imperfections
But described that each succession
Of brushstrokes that was made wrong
Was just the planned portrayal all along.

She says 'You see, people, we aren't perfect,
We may touch up with makeup on the surface,
But none of us is in anyway completely flawless,
So chaos,mess,destruction whatever you call this-

Just know it's a reflection of how humanity really is,
There's an edge, a curve, a bend,a bulge, a twist
And it is these mistakes that make us exists
As humans'.

She said as she took upon a new canvas
And freely painted her soul amongst the whiteness
And even though it might have been interpreted
As darkness or a dark-mess, to her it was her soul.

Our bodies are poetry
from soft to smooth to hard
our bodies are poetry
freckled, shaped and scarred

Our mouths are dancers
unchoreographed, with memory
our fingers are virgins
gentle and trembling

Our eyes, are passerbys
our noses, cuddling cubs
our arms, reconnecting friends
our knees buckle with every touch

Our bodies are poetry
fitting into every groove
our bodies are poetry
from hard to soft to smooth

How did I get lucky
enough to have met you?