Feast on my words
for I am the dead poet.
Ink to the paper
the past is my moment.

Written down to the second,
the minutes might say.
History's forgotten
the battles will rage.

Sentenced for crimes,
my expressions are free.
Lock me up in the cell,
nothing taken from me.

The thoughts in my head
will always remain.
Touched by the emotions,
the abuse and some pain.

Pent up with the silence,
speak up with the truth.
Explode with your pen,
no moment is mute.

Now I lay in the ground,
dead as the others.
Remember my words,
fellow poets,  my brothers.

"You can't really love someone you've never met."


          He's the first thing on my mind
   when I open my eyes,
             the last thing I think about
    before I go to sleep,
           he's in my thoughts all
    the moments in between,
his face takes away the nightmares
             and fills all my dreams.
       *How is this not love?

I  am  a  sight  so  sorrowful
I  cannot  bear  to  think,
what  ­little  children  feel
when  they  stumble  upon  me.

When  I  n­od  to  show  them
what  my  intentions  are,
they  turn  and  ru­n  from  me
and  watch  me  from  afar.

When  I  smile  and  bec­kon
them,  to  come  to  me,
I  sadly  have  to  see
them  cringe  a­nd  cry out loud.

When  I  beg  them  to  stop
and  listen  to  my  song,
they  look  at  one  another  
and  stare  at  me  in  awe.

Oh ­ why  can’t  they  come  closer
to  see  my  beady  eyes
a-blinki­ng  with  my  tears
wherein  my  sorrow  lies?

Oh  why  can’t  they  come  close  e­nough
to  see  my  shoulders  frail,
bent  forward  by  the  wind­
and  rain  and  storm  and  hail?

Oh  why  cannot  they  see
my­  body  hanging  limp,
a  lifeless  shapeless  pity
with  only  w­ithered  hope?

A  sad  and  lonely  scarecrow
standing  in  a  lonesome  field,
destined  to  spend  my  days
­in  endless  sorrowful  ways.

Sit inside the tube of eternal thought
Hearing the train roar by
Clack clack on the steel
Erasing memories of the bleeding brain

Pick up the ribbon of sorrow
Blind yourself with nothing but temptation
Silent tears pound the pavement
Rectifying my existence with pain

Cross my emotions with rooted aggression
Tempt my fate by the tangled noose
My toes sweep the chair, tipped over
It grips my neck, one last breath

Take me away from the sharp icy heather.
Come walk with me.
Pray take my hand.
On the craggy land, may our feet be liberated.
For I want not to slide unto the land of Duncan.
May my feet be firmly anchored, upon the hills where Robert walked.
Should we focus our eyes together, as we give due regard to the fowl soaring in the firmament.
Then to the smoky tavern we shall go.
To drown our sins with a warming dram.
As the evening will stoop, fast becoming night.
We shall slumber into the morning.
Tomorrow for the loch we shall depart.
Once again shall we march.
Escorted only by the rising of the winter sun.
©Livvi