She is missing,
Peace is nocturnal,
And night never happens.

he said this
she said that.
a string of words
made up
with no sense.

promises encrusted with
beautiful lies.

misconception
dressed as
pretty half truths
and beautiful people
disguised in monstrous
shape shifting colors.

a world where lying
is considered as honesty
and truths
as decaying deceit.

Slipping and sliding
Back into the past
Foolishly buying
All the foolishness they've said

Stacking me against you
Pitting you against me
Does it hurt to stretch the truth
If the lie is so easy

Keeping us under lock and key
Mental Slavery

Under their thumbs
We're being kept
Simple pawns
In their game of chess

We take them at their word
This herd of talking heads
As we rely on every line
That we're being fed

Keeping us under lock and key
Mental Slavery

With the slightest of resistance
We feel we should fight back
But at our own insistence
It's ambition that we lack

So we follow along the path
Eyes closed to reality
Turning us against each other
Makes it hard to see

Keeping us under lock and key
Mental Slavery

Someday you’ll love you.
From the sparkle in your eye,
To the pitch of your laugh,
Even the color of your hair.

You will love every part,
From every wrinkle,
To every crinkle,
Every part of you.

But they will try to tear you down,
To make you frown,
To make you think you’re not worth it.

But darling you listen to me.

From the way you walk,
To the way you talk,
You will be mocked,
But don’t you listen.

From your weight,
To your height,
You are all wonderful to me.

Maybe one day you’ll see,
The beauty I see.
The way you were made,
So beautifully.

But until then,
Do not forget,
On how true beauty,
Comes from within.

thank god i can’t write good poetry
the best poetry comes from pain and hurt if you ask me
so although i can’t write like i used to
at least it means i’m doing alright

you’ll never know
probably ever
the impact you have on a strangers life
by simply being kind
you may keep them alive
so even on your worst days
be a nice person
because even if you want to die
you may save someone’s life

It's a wide open art,
from the start.
Rules are for schools.
Dont fret em,
forget em.
So
Relax with a syntax,
clown around,
with a pronoun.
Squeeze the ******,
of a dangling participle.

Free flying like geese,
creative words release,
make it up if you please.
Example--the plural of mice is meese.

Flowery language isn't the exclusive domain of the professional writer, it's for everyone!
To continue then,
about the writers pen.
No write or wrong,
nothings too short or long.
Mangled,
bungled,
butchered,
bumbled, don't matter.
We don't need a librarian to admire what we have done.

Words aren't hard,
fling them unbarred.
It's not arithmetic,
or teaching a cat a trick.
Crunch them uniting,
mix them combining.
Fling them,
meld them,
Verb them,
sell them.
We don't need a New York Times best seller to enjoy the art of writing.

Uncrate it,
create it.
Use it,
and abuse it.
Don't bar us
from a thesaurus
Or a dictionary.
The spiel
is to write real
tell the tale
seal the deal.
WORD HATERS live in the town called Fictionary.