here i am
writing once again
a story so full of passion and greed that i scream myself to sleep

there was a boy
who loved a girl
but she was dead and so was he

they both lived under a dying tree
the girl wished to be free
and the boy couldn't see


she always helped him
to stand up from his knees
in the summers he would always sneeze

and the girl would be there to clean
one day the blind boy asked the girl
how does she feel

tears in her eyes she said
please master, can i leave?
i am no captive, like a bird, i want to be free

the boy said through his teeth
i agree
so he unlocked the shackles on her feet

grabbed her by the hair
and suffocated her to sleep
now, she was truly free

but the boy
ravaged by his pain could not sleep
so he starved himself and died next to her rotting feet

when judgment came
he asked if he could once again
see his beautiful Annabel Lee

but *** declined
and he was once again blind
living under a dying tree

and searching
for his next
Annabel Lee.
Martynas Nov 2018
what is life?
do poets matter?
are we all a black mass
inside an endless spiral
what are words?
does writing matter?
we want to be free
but the government has us
what is a canvas?
do painters matter?
they color our lives
with the darkest patches
what are hand?
do gloves matter?
if they cannot touch
a delicate body
what are eyes?
if only green matter
we can not look at
one another
because my eyes are full of lies
what is death?
do funerals matter?
we all die
its just a matter of the burial site
what are pyramids?
does history matter?
why do great men die
poisoned by their sin
what is ***?
if evil still roams free,
if a father crucified
his son
for his own sins
what is religion?
if it divides us
and only woman
reunite us
what is alcohol?
if wine is all-knowing
it stimulates the brain
the way sweet words
stimulate fame
what is sin?
if we are all born in it

i envy those
who lead a miserable
life
for they know the struggle
of woman and wine,
today i die.
with this poem  
i leave the misery behind.
watch me be reborn,
as a bottle of cheap
red wine.
Martynas Nov 2018
black death gave me a kiss
with warm and sweet lips
upon my chubby cheek

and now we dance
and feast
with the poets ages lost

here i sit with William
as he pours me a cup,
Charles smiles, as i shout: bottoms up!

t'was the plague that
ended me
and a kiss that finished me

now i will go to sleep
i am full of food and drink
and i found my room inside a palace, in Paree.
Martynas Nov 2018
****** and ***** around me
an out of tune guitar
and a **** soaked floor

eyes bloodshot red
a single tear running down my cheek
waiter, please bring another gin on the rocks

im ******* myself now
too drunk to pass out
i throw up, thinking my wife hates me now

i fall down on the floor
break my nose and jaw
smear my face with *****,  i look beautiful  now

the waitress picks me up
i reek of **** and ****
give me a kiss, on your red wine lips

i finally leave,
find a lonely tree,
say goodnight to the blue sky, the gin puts me to sleep.
Martynas Nov 2018
I don't want to see no other eyes
I don't want to hear no other laughs
I just want you to be mine
I just want to say my goodbyes.

No other green eyes will shine
No other laughs will make me cry
Baby, can i see your smile
Just one last time?

I just want you to know that
Your blue hair will be my sky,
Your red lips will be my wine
And your voice...

That was the demise.
My love, may you shine forever bright.
Martynas Nov 2018
i need more wine
more wine to understand my love
for you

its deeper than my thoughts,
its deeper than the ocean itself,
my love is endless

i will love you when you are with him
i will love you when you marry him
i will love you regardless

but now i must drink,
i must find the words i seek
because you are more than the poems i speak.
Martynas Nov 2018
it was a stormy december night
the wind was howling
and *** was singing with all his might,

the horses were shook
when they heard
a demon singing a flute

in the tales of the old
t'was a bad omen
but for us, we were lost in the moment

we didn't care for the demons looks
nor how he burned our books
all we knew - it was bottles work

in the mountains up high
we died that day
but the flute still remains

charming every man
with its play
be careful fellow man, its the devil's play.
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