Two heads of confluence,
Makes a tranquil gleam of streams




*-When love is true in many ways, it is true
when voices meet without vocal perception, because at glance you speak-

she was a poet,
and he was her pen.
in him,
she always found words to write,
songs to sing,
thoughts to think.

he'd smile,
and kiss her softly,
and say,
"write me a poem."

and she would.
she'd put poe,
and whitman,
and shakespeare to shame,
and she'd write a poem that made his eyes water.

she'd compare him
to a rose with no thorns,
a book with no end,
a world with no poverty --
the things we all wish for,
but can never attain.

//

he asked her one day,
"what am i?"
and so she picked up her pen,
and began the usual:
you are the shining sun after a hurricane,
with rays that open the eyes of the blind.
but he stopped her after those two lines,
and said that this time,
he didn't want any metaphors,
or similes,
or analogies.
he wanted the truth.

and so on that night,
as he slept,
the poet picked up her pen,
and she wrote.

she wrote,
then thought better of it,
then started over again,
and this cycle continued well into the early hours of the morning,
until suddenly,
she wrote, frantic,
if i can't love you for what you really are,
have i ever really loved you at all?

this, too,
she thought better of,
condemning it to the trash.

the next morning the poet was gone,
her final work a mere two words:

i'm sorry.

(a.m.)

If the sun lighten meadow,
were to fall to a land forsaken burrow
A shelter it once was, full of decadent greenery,
But, never it may be again the land of lavishing brewery

If the sun lighten stream,
would fade out into dim
Becomes a melancholic and forgotten drought,
An eye-sparkling land it was where all life would spread and sprout

The embellishing jade and lapis,
Deeply tainted to the faintest
By work of all demons alike,
The bright ruby can never be in our sight

Our treasures soon gone into abyss
Our jewels alive but shows no zest
Our land fainted and made
If only we kept out of the shade

                  -Sometimes sitting there in the shade will only diminish what you call light-

Your eyes, while you shoot daggers at me, makes me miserable.
Your mouth, as you talk, makes me want to be alone.
Your ears; your laugh; your smirk, is enough to make me do some things I never even thought I wished I to do.

Don't judge me, You don't even know me.
Don't push me, I might fall off.
Don't tell me such things, You will regret it.
Don't do it, I never even did anything to you.

Trick or treating is tomorrow
Many costumes to borrow
If not, they'll be in sorrow
And they might **** you with an arrow.

Kids everywhere
Trick or treating anywhere
It's the month of October
And It's a night to remember.

It's in his shadow we plead
Under his wrath we bleed
His destruction leaks hate into the weak
Leaving the unsubstantial reaping his critique
His actions scorned through years of neglect
It's in his perception only, that we become wrecked
Why do we follow knowing wrong from right
Pushing those we love away from the light
His power is without doubt equal to the greats
Although derived from stray minded it opens the gates
The gates into the souls of those who are tattered
Turning old memories to ones now shattered
Although through it all, we have nothing to fear
For he is nothing more than a broken mirror
It just takes practice to realize his weakness
All his power is nothing to the strong but bleakness
It's in his own prison he will rot
Although it's up to us to become the Juggernaut

-Joseph B Schneider