Ode to snow,
There is nowhere to go.

A white blanket on the ground,
Falling softly, without a sound.

The unique pristine flakes,
No reproductions or fakes.

It’s a great day to curl up.
And hold a nice warm cup.

Its great to just sit and watch movies,
I enjoy this, very much, very truly.

There is nothing to do,
Yes I know, it’s quite true.

For a day everything stops,
Because of these delicate frozen drops.

I lover this fantastic, frozen weather.
Stuck in one spot, by a chilly tether.

The white parchment has nothing on it
No poetry to add,
Nor the story of a bleeding comet.

This writer’s block, it used to be bad.
Things go from bad to worse.
The paper beneath my hand feels sad.

Should I start with the rolling of a Hirsch,
Or should I resort to a sonnet?
Either way my pen is about to burst.

I can picture the lady, wearing her summer bonnet.
Brushing away another shadow’s kiss.
The pain of her life, painted clearly on it.

Only one more thing, will this picture miss.
It’s the pleasure of the pain,
While cupids taking a ****.

There is a difference, now and then.
Then you could taste the rain.
Now its just me, my pencil, and my pen.

He is smart
He knows how to articulate his thoughts
He knows who I am as a person
He knows Shakespeare
He quotes Shakespeare
He is someone I can share an awkward silence with comfortably
He is preferably Scottish
He is proud
He perseveres
He has principles
He is knowledgeable
He is open-minded
He is a risk-taker
He is optimistic
He is an inquirer
He is preferably a gemini, libra, aquarius or leo
He likes to read a lot
He is reflective
He is handsome (to my standards)
He has dark brown, wild, wavy hair
He has insightful eyes
He has dark brown eyes
He is insightful
He is caring
He is faithful
He sings
He dances
He plays almost every musical instrument under the sun
He is confident
He is self-assured
He is outspoken
He is bold
He is not afraid t0 show emotion
He wears his heart on his sleeve
He laughs everyday
He has a crooked, sweet smile
He has dreams
He has aspirations in life
He has goals
He has his life planned in a general outline
He is safe
He is prepared
He is spontaneous
He calls me beautiful instead of ****
He doesn't snore
He brings out my more intimate side
He is not my *****
He can play rough with me and not hurt me
He knows that I am not fragile
He knows that the only part of me that I cared if he broke it would be my heart
He is honest
He doesn't hide anything from me
He respects my privacy
He is not possessive, jealous, or overbearing
He lets my have my space when I need it
He respects me as a woman
He respects me as a lover
He respects me as a Human Being
He can clearly define love and what it means to him, and I agree
He doesn't base the strength of our relationship on ***
He does not push me into doing things I do not want to do
He has and recognizes that he has past lives
He is an old soul
He is one and at peace with his surroundings
He is spiritual
He is good
He is a healer
He believes in Magic
He believes in hope
He believes in justice
He stands his ground in a fight
He knows when to say NO
He comes with emotional baggage we can solve together
He depends on me as much as I depend on him
He can kick any ones *** in a fight
He is willing to admit his mistakes
He is not afraid to apologize to me for anything
He is willing to change for the better
We connect on a deep level
He has and recognizes that he has psychic powers
He is smart when under the influence
He uses his God-given brain
He uses common sense
He is perfect for me.

I’m so tired of men just looking at my chest
I wish that some would just
Take a hint and give it a rest

Once a month I turn evil
I rage I cry I laugh and more
My hormones just going out of control

Im so tired of men just caring about my chest
Go *******
It’s just ***

Have you ever been in darkness, when there was light?
Just because you do something, doesn’t make it right.

But if you walk in the light as ‘He” would be,
You are blessed, and released from the good and evil tree.

If we truly belong to him in our hearts,
By no other “savior” are we given so many starts.

There is no darkness in light, or is there?
Everything becomes right when we bow before him in a jeweled chair.

The way we live our life, shows as proof.
Live like ‘He’ does. Don’t remain naïve and aloof.

Which side do you walk on?
Which side makes your soul strong?

An oxymoron, dark and light. They can’t be together.
Don’t be held in place by sins tempting tether.

I looked forward to your class,
It made me happy when I walked through the door.
But it was like walking on shredded glass,
And I always came back for more.

You pushed my limits
When it came to my own form of art
You made me look into my heart, deep withing it.
As a whole I wanted this moment to be more than a part.

Sometimes all we did was read.
Being at my best was quite a feat
For you, I tried so hard to succeed
I only had everyone in the pod to beat.

Ogling something more than the books.
Persuasion was out of the question and moot.
But how can I help it when my teacher had such good looks.
With a perfect personality to boot.

Take her by the reigns,
Whisper in her ear.
Silence your pride, have no shame.
Ride her again, go on year by year.

Caress her soft mane,
Utter her intimate praise.
Sweeter than the warm rain.
Love her, in passion induced craze.

Cup your thighs tightly,
And hold on for the ride.
Repeat your love, reveal the insight.
Roar like the master of the pride.

Gallop your way across the plains,
Similar to the love you both share.
Neither of your existence can be called bane.
The question is no longer when, but where?

Ride the wind,
Sound your inexplicable joy,
Let natures game begin,
And unfold her hidden ploy.

Your thoughts together,
They will always dwell.
This life can only get better.
None of your mares have ever ridden quite this well.

Scars are there to remind us of memories,
Painful, harsh, depressing, or not.
They are there for us to ponder, and give thought.

These scars are there to forget what we went through,
But still bear the marks and scorns of time.
Their phosphorescent glow, they seem to shine.

A way to bring us back down to reality,
A way to resemble the past,
What dark shadows and thoughts we have cast.

Accidental, mutilations, carefree times of glee,
These scars are the price we pay,
And memories of what our body has to say.

So many scars.
They litter my arms like phosphorescent trash.
They are the evidence of my blades sorrow and my extreme lack of balance and grace.
But the white unmarred flesh around them, shine with a beautiful glow.
The blue pulsing veins that sliver and slice through my limb beat to the rhythm of my heart.
They remind me of the unimaginably gorgeous and amazing life I have been gifted with.
Then I focus back on the scars and realize that I have wasted so much of it.
No More.
My blade goes down the bag.
And my friends and family are now my artificial grace and poise.
This is all I need in my rehab.
It is all I can to to start picking up the memories of the Scar Tissue Trash.

You walk by and it hits me
Like a brick wall.
It is subtle, yet powerful.
It washes over me making
that warm spot in my lower belly
even warmer, yet it sends chills
and shivers down my spine.
Spicy and dark, it hints
at a hidden passion.
The darkly seductive ***-god
that women so desire.
But a hint of your day,
only makes you more human
and approachable.
Autumn waves over me
months too soon.
All because you carry the
crisp leaves in your skin.
You are palpable and delicious
and sweet and cool to the touch.
Hold me now, or I fear
I might never let you go.

Rest assured by the sandy shore,
A wee lass, pines her love on the moor.

Leave her ‘lone ‘till the ‘morrow,
And let the wee lass release her sorrow.

Her Child's cry from within thy womb,
Darkened, double bairn in her bodies room.

Och, the lasses pain will remain,
But her mans e’er lasting love will keep her sane.

Bein’ glad for the child,
‘Twill be hard to consume her wild.

From far away, comes a distant cry
Not a cry, a song
From a maiden so sweet, and ever so sly,
Looking upon her, one would think that in the world there was no wrong.

Sweet, from high and low.
She will hum, calling, calling,
To tempt the men and fluster the boys, just for show.
To move in for the ****, she is only stalling.

In the dead of night,
Her song will entrance,
Those willing to aid her plight,
They come for a kiss and a dance.

A kiss and a dance one might receive,
But a mysterious ****** would soon occur,
However, beautiful eyes are hard to deceive,
All because of a longing to spend a night with her.

When walking down the hall today,
I heard that only the Worst deserve the Best.
Why do the Best never have a say?
Can’t the Worst stop their ways, and give it a rest?
Why are the Best stuck to take the arrows and scorns?
And deal with the Worst because it is a birthright.
Why do they deal with this so calm. These sad thorns.
The opinions of the Best are so often contrite.
How many will withstand their silence in suffering.
The Worst have made their impression.
Words have always been baffling.
The Worst are the reason for this terrible recession.

If you wished me to be prolific,
You should have been more specific.

If you wished me to be gentle with you,
You should have specifically told me what to do.

You know what they say, rules are meant to bend.
Specific instructions are the ones you should send.

“Mommy, Mommy!” The little girl cried.
“Mommy, Mommy, its story time.”

“Little girl, you wish me to tell you,
All the tales of glee they say aren’t true.

I’ll tell you a tale,
About the ferocious dragons golden scale.

I’ll tell you a story,
About the princes undying glory.

I’ll tell you about a time,
When there were no nursery rhymes.

I’ll tell you about a little boy,
Playing with his shiny new toy.

I’ll tell you about a little girl,
Whose house flew away in a tornado whirl.

See for yourself,
The smallest little elf.

Ride the wind,
And let the games begin.

Surf with the whales,
By God girl, I will give you a tale.

Some people say it isn’t so,
Tell me yourself, and look out your window.”

Level with me Doll.
How is this going to go down?
When are the shots going to call?
Don’t ail me with that beautiful frown.

I might be walking to my grave
With these wounds and a bottle of ***.
Lovely one, you must be brave
But know, if I lose, you must run.

I think he said it started at ten.
This situation is already bad.
I think I will wait till nine after then.
Death is only a phase, don’t be sad.

Some might call me a coward
Others might dub me a hero
But we must always march on forward.
We burned it to the ground, just like Nero.

Pack your bags at once.
Be ready on the fly to flee.
If I am a fool, I will be a dead dunce.
If I survive, know that I will be back for thee.

Know this my darling Katherine
That this deadly roadside cult,
Even when the end didn’t begin,
This was never your fault.

A God bless you, to all my teachers.
I know it was hard,
But you definitely managed to reach her.

In  Gupton's Math,
You managed to make me laugh
When the rest of them wouldn't dare cross your path.

In  Lotvedt's Social Studies
It was hard staying awake
But I think I managed to make us buddies.

In Phibbs' Science
I learned a little about my body,
and you taught us a little self reliance.

In Vinger's Writing,
you had a great sense of humor
and managed to teach me the art of citing.

In McLeod's Reading,
The place I loved and learned the most
I learned to put my trust in the love of succeeding

Catch me in your net,
Study me with inquisitive eyes,
The future I have foretold has been set.
Beware, my captor, of all of your compulsive lies.

Stuck in a jar,
A sealed glass cage,
My people separated few and far,
My dying life suspended by rage.

The scratch of your pencil screams,
Against the yellowed papyrus page,
Colored ink closes in the seams.
Look closer, you will see, I’m not blue, but a golden sage.

Your little girl finds me fascinating,
Only a few things I will ask,
Give me back my wings for flying,
And please ask your daughter to stop shaking the glass.

Your scalpel brings me no joy,
Removing my only span of hope.
I am not a toy.
No never again will my wings and I elope.

Press my scaled soul like flowers,
Label it very precisely.
I have been stripped of all my worldly powers,
No revenge I shall exact will be done the least bit nicely.

The day has come,
You have let me go.
The world has lost its color for some,
This only goes to show.

The reds seem dull,
The blues seem shallow,
Helpless I cry, helpless I pull
My once beautiful body has come so low.

I’m to curl in a corner,
Beneath my old favorite petal,
My lifespan forced shorter,
Every move I make, it’s like i'm made of lead metal.

My last few moments,
In natures once beautiful land,
Even a winged angel cries and laments,
And comes to take a broken butterflies hand.

A gloom night looms, inside her sweet dark tresses,
No one thing survives the trippy nerved crevices,
No one knows what shadowed secrets, she suppresses.

When grandfather strikes a dozen
The light of my “friend” starts to shine
Shine so brightly, the lady in white.
When I gaze upon her, my heart begins to pine.

Sit she gently upon my bed,
I’m clueless, whether to embrace her
Or pull the covers over my head.
My dear lady in white.

Whisper a meaning of life in my ear,
Hold me tightly,
Wipe away my tears.
To some, I can imagine this being quite unsightly

The grandfather clock strikes the first,
When she fades away my soul begins to burst.
Such a shame she can’t stay.
But then again, tomorrow is another day.

The killer in me whispers to me now.
Nocturnal urges creep up too.
Inspired by the musical chorus of How?
The killer in me sees it all to true.

I don't know why. I don't know how.
But the killer in me wants to **** you.
A bemused idea really. A psychopathic vow.
All I know, is it is there, I know it's true.

How poetic, romantic it is, really I must insist.
An emotion, an urge being all on its own.
The reasons of allurement I cannot list.
Why I should be the one, on this throne.

The killer in me, sees with cynical eyes.
She knows the beauty of the Death.
And grants the victim an indulgence through lies.
Sees, understands the gift, the favor, of every breath.

I am the killer that observes the light leave,
That takes no remorse in wrong, exciting deeds.
I watch the sick, unseemly fantasy I weave.
I know it is the killer in me that yearns and needs.

The killer in me says that it is perfectly, consummately OK.
The fundamental guidelines do not apply to us as one.
This is the way we are, our prevalent, primal way.
This is how we quiet the voices, this is how its done.

Cold and precise and splendid, the killer is an artist.
Taking pride in her work, making it true craft.
"The killer in me will never surface." I insist.
But when I said that, she just smiled and laughed.

She wears a mask,
To hide within herself.
There is no need to ask,
For everyone ignores her cry for help.

All the hatred inside,
Locked in bond with the loss.
Only singing emotion can abide.
No one can see her tears gloss.

The mask says “Hello!”
Here eyes say goodbye,
Nothing is what the mask shows.
Because deep inside, she cries.

“Is there anyone out there,
That is anything like me?”
But thru the mask, no one could hear.
She was all she could ever be.

The mask won't come off,
No matter how hard she tries.
Surveyors will laugh and scoff.
But the true story is in her eyes.

Sooner or later, you will see,
The loneliness hidden behind the mask,
Everyone seems so happy,
And my dear, this is no easy task.

“Why can’t I be like that?”
She tries to call for help,
But to them she is only a number stat.
Or a worthless, depressed whelp.

She sees no one who looks like her,
On her knees she asks,
Why she is this way forever.
But her only reply was a roomful of masks.

The old house groans
The old house moans
It moves, it creaks
What new leaks will we expect this week?

The lady in white says…
“This house is alive.”

The attic breathes
The basement feeds
The kitchen dines
The old staircase whines.

The lady in white says…
“This house lives.”

The windows are crying
The doors are scrying
The floors walk
And the ceilings talk.

The lady in white says…
“This house is your soul.”

I’m in love,
Help my soul arise.
I need a little help from above.
Little girl, keep your eyes on the prize.

How do I rise?
To the top of the roosters crow?
Look into my eyes,
Tell me the truth, just like so.

I hoped to hell the angels heard
My sweet and innocent request.
I hoped they told that little bird
That I’m willing to put my faith to the test.

My deepest desires just happened to come true,
The angels really heard.
And I couldn’t be more in love with you,
I’m so glad they listened to that little bird.

Loud and clear, I hear them say
“Always be who you wanted to be.
Don’t let your love fly astray,
This evidence, don’t you see?”

These are the days of my life.
These days were grand
These are the days I learned to stand.

These are the days of my life.
These days were grand
These are the days I learned to stand.

Sweet rain drizzles on fields of purple Heather.
You sit, watching through your latticed casement sill.
With this kind of pure, unmarred, untainted weather,
You can skip the distasteful daily ritual of taking your pill.

Then the sky clears, leaving only a damp reminder.
You can go outside and walk the misty grounds.
“Marco!” you hear. You know you must find her.
You start to run, while doing so; you hear all of natures sounds.

All in due time, the mist starts to clear.
You feel the Morning Star welcome you in its rays.
Thinking, pondering, it is clarity you fear.
You want to go back to the dark, where everyone else stays.

You hear her familiar feminine laughter.
You stop to see a tempting shady tree by the sea.
You are quickly reminded you must be quick to go after her.
You have to wonder, where she might happen to be.

While this game can go on for hours,
“Polo!” you scream in a loud raspy voice.
You see a figure, but the picture soon sours.
As you run closer, you realize that only you have this choice.

A full grown woman, resorts to darting behind trees.
To escape her pursuer, her courtier, her lover in secret.
But then she falls on her knees.
And tells you a secret that must be forever kept.

It’s a fickle thing.
Time…

A golden glass,
Held in place by a string.
Time…

A calculation that is too
Quick to pass.
Time…

One lost it cannot be regained,
It’s all to true.
Time…

It is something that cannot be restrained.
So don’t spare seconds, minutes, and hours to waste.
Time…

Quickly now we must make haste,
There is no time to spare.
Lest we find it’s a waste.
Not other aspect can compare.

Crying out loud
******* inside
Hearing my own sound
Sanity denied

True calling made sane
Foreseeing others brutal fate
Now it’s me
True calling to be

Shrouded in white
Within a blackened haze
Only bits and pieces
Will remain

Slowly going mad
Life slipping away
Blood coming back
And I think its
Here to stay

I’m flying in the light
I swallow my pain and fear,
As I hear angels and devils fight
I can shed only a single tear.
Entrancing ghosts circle the air,
The feeling of terror is waning,
The virginal silence starts to tear,
The one tear I shed, is staining.
Words in the air, the quiet is going.
Colorful vapors hover over the path.
Sticky life, hangs on to the crying spirits.
Once more, I feel Gods wrath,
And hear his cherubs haunting lyrics.
Oh Jesus! God’s queen is sweet.
Strangely, it’s peaceful behind the light.
I must now bow down and kiss her feet.
I can only help myself in heavens plight.
Red bugs ooze from crystalline water.
I stomp on them with my shoes.
She gazes, knowing no one can stop her.
For me, this is surely not good news.
An angel’s child I am to bear.
Awaken! The birthing is hard.
This one child I cannot love, I swear.
From now on, I cannot fault my guard.
Deaths life is unafraid,
But I know that his love for me is hesitant.
This life of death I have made,
But my lover’s fury is notoriously unpleasant.
My chance to flee across the river Styx,
It finally arrives, just on time.
A bribe to the rower is my quick fix.
I tell my beautiful evil child everything is fine.
But then I can throw her off the boat,
And tell her that her next life will be better.
I know it’s over when her curls cease to float.
My last words to her, were that of my last only love,
To tell her that if God had a better plan,
He had better start working hard up above.
I have relinquished his holey wingspan.
But now with who can I seek my final shelter.
For a price of passion I can take a final board.
This mans love is enough to make life swelter.
But I know I can end it all again, with this rope and cord.

I want to be remembered by a complete stranger, because I did something randomly and significantly that he or she witnessed or was a part of.

I want to be the person whose shoulder people know they can cry on.

I want to be somebody who made a difference in some other persons life.

I want to be the person who laughs everyday.

I want to be a blessing.

I want to be a leader.

I want to be remembered.

I want to be defined as a good, unusual, and unique person.

I want to be remembered for starting a movement that affects a lot of people in a positive way.

I want be recognized for my intelligence, among other things in relation to that.

I want to be the person that people come to for answers.

I want to be the person that someone can truly rely on.

I want to be 5'9".

I want to be irreplaceable.

There are many things that people 'want'. Money, jobs, a home, lovers, life, possessions, miracles. In this case I would say that only 50% at most would get what they wanted. But when you want something that requires a little thought or material effort on you're part...well that's when things that you want to happen start happening. Only you can change you. Only you can make a difference in that department. Respect it. It is one of the few things in life that you have absolute and awe inspiring power over.

Touch her here,
Touch her there,
She wants to be touched everywhere.

Slow and passionate,
Or fast with your heart in it.
Either way, you must stick with it.

You could be on top like a dove,
Or she could be the one above.
All these are ways of making love.

To have and to hold you
The rest of my life
These words would only **** me
As if they were a knife

Afraid of commitment
After to many breaks
Only you could guess
The chances and the stakes

I can give you my body
But never my mind
For I’ve already
Had it taken away
For an everlasting
Hate
That would put us
Both in binds

I’m sorry to say
That I can’t say I do
For only one to me
I know will be true

-me

I though I had a friend in you
And maybe one in you and you
Little did I expect?
That you’d just think me a wreck
And now im stuck with me
That shows what I know about you and me

Why am I denied this,
This simple pleasure in life?
I have everything to risk.
But I would give anything to be your wife.

I watch you day by day,
You mind always perplexing me,
I know, from her side you will never stray,
But I offer myself to you, can’t you see?

Subtle signs say you notice me too,
But when will your will of iron break
Only too long, can my emotions brew?
But, we have everything at stake.

It’s not really my business,
But I know for a fact its true,
I know you will not risk ‘Us’
But, I can take so much better care of you

Cool nights, breathe upon
The dark lover’s lips.
Glisten will you, the moons song
Graze the horizon, scan for the sunken ships.

Wait would he, upon ghostly moors,
A passionate feeling arose in his chest,
Within closed eyes, he poured
Content with the image of her lovely *******

Minutes, upon hours, upon days it seemed
He waited quietly, silently for her,
Until the heart stopping moment,
at which he heard her screams.

He ran fast and far, searching for sure.
Upon her, he soon arrived
A sad ****** mangle her body was.
*****, broken, and beaten to death, it was there she died.

A random target, for fun, just because.
Not only a lover, but a loving friend he had lost,
Down he went, on his knees he cried.
He lay beside her, curled around her;

He knew what her love had cost.
Down he lay forevermore,
Down he lay till the second he, too, died.

Woman, Hear my cries.
Woman, here she lies
Woman, don’t turn away
Woman, So powerful are they.

With your haunting eyes
And your seductive ways
Only you can match
The game he plays

You can make it end
A sway of your hips
I swear lord
This is just one bad trip

Woman, hear my cries
Woman, here she lies
Woman, don’t turn away
Woman, so powerful are they

All you have to do,
Is work a little bit
Of your natural juju
The man is down with it

Fire in your fingertips
Heavens known in your lips
Won’t you cast your magical spell
Honey it will do us all well

Woman, Hear my cries.
Woman, here she lies
Woman, don’t turn away
Woman, So powerful are they.

Baby you can put them in their grave
Those ****, worthless knaves
Thanked by a woman’s generation
No more silent contemplations.

Yeah it’s safe for all.
Come listen to the woman’s call.
Clad in only her leather black.
Only till she’s needed will she come back.

Woman, Hear my cries.
Woman, here she lies
Woman, don’t turn away
Woman, So powerful are they.
  
Ha!
Not anymore Babydoll.

A deadly passion
Fueled by hate
Running away to
Forget is the
Last thing on my mind

A fatal love
I have for you
Call your name
Is all I can seem to do?

A dark tunnel
One which has no end
Keeps calling me back
Again and again

Come close this time
My hearts beating faster
And faster
Touch me, hold me
Love me
It’s all I ask
And I’ll return the favor

Despite what people tell you,
To yourself, always be true.
Stick to yourself like glue.
And always remember to be you.

An outside influence is nothing.
Take it as it comes
No matter what is coming.

The only person you can hurt
When all you rely on is yourself,
Is the person you rely on,
For your mental and physical health.

You can be your own best friend.
But remember to step aside sometimes.
Your life’s complete joy can very quickly end,
When you exclude acquaintances from your life and times.