See I've got this question,
when's all this karma gonna set in?

The worlds like a large set of intestines
too much room for the bad to sept in
and not enough good for the rest
But in ALL of us there is a fight
between what feels good, and what is right..
See we DO have the sights!
You just have to be in the dark sometimes to see the light,
To appreciate the fight and to know it's right!

But why is god like Kryptonite in a society that freely mentions cupid?
& When did 'offensive' become a viable reason to refuse the free speech part of our constitution?

Oh and RELIGIOUS people condemning other peoples idea of him
is just absolutely putrid...Why shouldn't other people if you did?
That's only ever been hypocritical and useless

and if that's what religion is I refuse it ..

When I was a kid,
folding chairs
were my kryptonite.

That moment the bass drops in a favorite song
Submerging your body from the core inside the musical trance
The first few strides in the open air after days of isolation
Open eyes opening once more as the daylight kisses them
A smile appearing where your lips were caressed by another's
Blossoming as your fingertips trace the fresh tracks of a kiss
The soothing heat that spreads through your body
Bringing a cool breeze gushing from your core within
You didn't have a drop to drink to feel this drunkeness
You sit in silence yet the music is still felt
You were never imprisoned to feel the freedom of open spaces
And your lips have been untouched for days unnumbered
But the memory is still there, fresh as the grass beneath your dreaming feet
As refreshing as the waters of a forgotten stream lightly touching your palms
Bringing a sorely missed kindred spirit back to its other life
Complete in it's entirety and clear in view
Without lacking in touch, smell or others alike
Oh love, it's real, more real than we could ever fantasize.

The black and white butterfly is now stained red and purple.

When I was 16 my mom decided that the best way for her to feel good about her body again was to get plastic surgery.
Now my mom was always beautiful.
She was petite, had a tiny waist, full hips, and an overall curvy body.
In my eyes, she was perfect and I would've loved to look like her.

But she was unhappy.

Her stomach wasn't flat enough.
Her thighs too big and lets not even talk about the **** she felt was too small.

So cut, cut, cut away.
Tear her open.
Take the undesirable parts away and throw them out.
Never speak of them again.
But add some there.
Too little.
Not enough.
Don't worry about the person under all that skin.

Make them pretty again.
Make them pretty again.

And now look at her.
Hunched over because "beauty is pain."

And the butterfly tattoo on her lower back bleeds and red and purple, the colors of her bruised skin.

Oh it's sad to see the summer go
When we just began having fun
But it's terrifying to think
That soon we won't be so young.
Next year we'll be gone
Out of this town
And away from these people
That we've grown up with all along.
So it's time to make a change
Leave our mark and take control
Scream 'forget it all'
And just let everything go.
And if we don't return someday,
To these streets among our journeys
We still won't forget;
It'll live on forever in our memories.

Lofty

Aimlessly floating
Destination unknown

Inspiration escaping grasp
Silver lining lost
Pages left unturned

Cloudy is the day
Restless is the night
Left to recklessly dream
Within a thoughtless mind

Sleep is the only seclusion
For dreaming will not cease
Oh, such a keen villain
She is waiting so silently
Mouth watering; ready to strike

There are good poems
and there are bad poems
and apart from that
there is NO POEM

I usually go with NO Poem
"no poem" is my way of poetry
Good poems are sensible
They are written with words of senses
Words with intelligence
Words of emotions
Words of virtue
Bad poems are irresponsible
Poems of offence
Poems of unhealty mockery
they are written with nonsense
and I am with NO poems
because
I am neither sensible
nor irresponsible
I neither make sense
nor do any nonsense

"I am stuck!"
that usually happens when I write poem
and in the end
there is NO POEM
No poem is my way of poetry

*But this poem is not No poem
it is a bad poem