No matter how many times I wash my hands, the stains are still there. No matter how much I try, I cannot silence the screams. I know I shouldn't have done it but it is to late to worry about that now. Inside my room that closes in on me every time I open my eyes. Just one drink too many, that is all it took. I walked away without a scratch, but two others lost their lives. The blood will not wash off of my hands no matter how much I try.

Yes hell is real, I have lived in for a while. The cartoon creatures of my torment live all around me. They have many forms, but all are there to steal my joy. Some are no more than floating heads I see on a video screen. They chatter on day and night with out every making a point. Others are shiny and bright but they are hollow inside. They glisten like a polished gem but when they open their gaping mouths, they **** in every good thing and leave you nothing in return. There are still others that are mumbling faceless creatures, buried in a black swamp that has on bottom. They lurk around waiting to see if you need something so that they can make you wait out the eternity. Yes there is a hell and it is called a bureaucracy.

Jonathan Campbell  1d
I was wondering if you would be interested in this project im starting up. I wanna post spoken word poetry audio on sound cloud and youube. non profit just for the artists

Like a Black Dahlia, she sits in solitude. Her Essence is intoxicating and draws you in with her mysterious ways. To touch her is a delight, but be careful you don't get lost in her. For what may appear to be a delicate flower, is simply an enticement to get you into her web. In truth she's poison, she has been the ruin of many men. So if she happens to Blossom in your path, beware the dark flower.

I see the mighty Oak in a vision or a dream, I am not sure which it is. I look at a trail filled with many tears, I am sad because I know I do not belong here. The great plains are silent but once they thundered with a million hooves, as the Bison rolled across them like a wave that did not end. I see the tall mountains that could not be climbed, now scarred with the signs of mans greed. I sit high on a hill and listen to the wind, in it I hear ancient songs that now only exist in memories. The great Eagle screeches in the sky, but we are now few and our past is being forgotten. I want to remember the wisdom of those who came before me, but the voices of my ancestors are being silenced each time the old stories are not told. I see that we are fading like the grass from the Prairie. How sad to sit and watch a people and a way of life die.

My tears have fallen for many whom I have loved. My tears have fallen for some who do not know me. My tears have been wept in silence when I had no words to speak. My tears have been cried at the Masters feet. In hours of temptation I have wept for myself and those who could not cry. Soon a day will come when I will no longer need to cry. I have grown aged and my sight has become dim. It is hard for me to kneel though my body is bent with age. Soon I will no longer weep for I will see a beautiful land. I will kneel one more time then I will be called to stand. Before my saviors throne I will hear well done. Welcome home my good and faithful son. In that moment I will shed one last tear, a tear of joy that will be wiped away with Gods own hand. Then I will cry no more because I will be home at last.

Evergreen Pine Spruce and Cedar covered in decorative lights. Silver Bells and colored ornaments shining bright. Waiting for presents to be placed beneath on a quiet Christmas night. Christmas trees throughout the land giving children joyful Delight. Here for only a momentary season then they return from whence they came look for a few brief moments they bring joy to so many lives.