Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2014 Nikki Whittaker
MST
The future president was shot today,
they found him dead,
with a bullet in his head,
oh how I think of his mother's dread.
She will tell them all the hero he was,
and how he gave his life for a just cause,
nobody realizing the potential that was wasted,
due to a strife of old men,
over a violent thirst they had never tasted.
They will talk about him though, as if he was a friend,
as they say his sacrifice will help society mend,
then they step off their podium and into a room,
and they laugh about what the media will consume,
as they fatten their pockets,
with donations to their cause,
scheming with their caucus,
about all their new corrupt laws.
While a hundred miles away,
the boy's mother sits at his grave,
and as she leans down to pray,
the lord is thanked, for making her boy brave,
and most of all, for keeping the heathens at bay.
but far away in a different place,
there is another boy who was shot in the face,
with his mother also in tears,
and their government spouting the same fears.
sometimes my  mind waves
turn into landslides
with paths aside
turned around
going down
down down
with out a care
to stare
into the heart of a bear
or a lion of souls
mind waves
never ceasing to rest
undress
silence comes
I chase the rabbit down the hole.
My only goal is to strip its soul.
Of earthly entrapments that plague the life.
Of a pure being born of the light.

Darkness invades every crease.
The paltry leaves dangle on the trees.
Movement ahead suggests my target is near.
Worms eat my heart but my head is clear.

There's a glimpse of light up ahead.
Feelings of dread infiltrate my head.
What I thought was the end is glowing eyes.
The enormity of my task takes me by surprise.

A battle ensues that shakes my core.
Blood and gore of the days of yore.
I make my final strike wearing a velvet glove.
This was an act of mercy born out of love.

Now we run through a flowered field.
Our love wields a sword and and a shield.
Hand in hand we float on the jeweled stream.
With eyes wide open living in a
perpetual dream.
Stale thoughts have dampened my mind for many years.
Colorful dreams are waiting to allay my gruesome fears.
Hope is buried under the rubble of self inflicted pain.
When I look heavenward I'm not sure if it's my tears or rain.

Numbly walking in a desert of oppressive shame.
Trying to find a world where my smile can shine.
A place where I can remove this weight of blame.
Some say this journey is a part of a grand design.

The wind kicks the sand up to scratch my bleary eyes.
Always looking forward for a sign of salvation or demise.
I won't stop moving until my last breath kisses the air.
Until then I will continue this pilgrimage of quiet despair.

Now I can escape the Earth and find the light.
Maybe catch up with old souls waiting at the gate.
We'll fly through the aether in bodiless delight.
What a joy to know that this is the ultimate fate.
 Jan 2014 Nikki Whittaker
Guss
Porcupine flesh gilded the entirety of her skeleton.
No one ever dared near the beast.
Just to fear the beast.
Her stomping, poking and prodding.
With the peasants retreating,
she grows pleased with her malice.
I too left the battle.
For I know, that without a meal the beast will die.  
I pledge vows of waning mettle,
collect memorabilia
and stash it all in a box
underneath the California Live Oak
down on Mildred St.
A rightful place for things to rot,
along with every spiteful thought.
Mark the spot with an "X"
and next April all will be a distant memory.
Just remember.
*With out a meal the beast will die.
 Jan 2014 Nikki Whittaker
R
Dear Michael,
     I honestly have a lot to say. I'm not even sure where to start. I guess I'll go with something I've been thinking about lately. I've been meaning to say thank you. I'm not sure if I have ever told you this, but I mean it. I am thankful that you cared enough to listen to me. I am thankful that you cared about me even when I believed nobody did. I am so thankful for you.

    I keep trying to think of what it must've been like to hear what was going on with me. I, personally, thought you could care less. Even though you showed me you cared by bringing me to the counselors office and staying after to talk to me, I didn't understand. I was so completely immersed in my thoughts that I didn't realize that it must've been hard for you. I'm sure they questioned you, asked you what I said when you told them what happened. And I do not blame you for telling them, it's your job. But, you didn't just tell them because you're obligated too, right You care, I know you do. And if you wouldn't have cared, i believe I wouldn't be here writing this, listening to vinyls and studying for my 9th grade exams. Let that sink in for a second. Just because you cared, I am here. I am alive. Yes, other things an people contributed, but in the end you were the only person who I believed actually cared if I was alive or dead. It's scary, feeling so alone. It wasn't even a feeling anymore. It was real.

      Anyways, I believe you showed me light. I believe that I owe you so much. I owe you my life, the things I accomplish and the love I give. You can tell me I don't, but I know I do. Thank you for letting me live and breathe and smile and cry and laugh and learn and see the stars. Thank you so so so much.

            Love Always and Forever,

                                                           Rach
I too...
wake up sometimes
longing to touch you
to taste
tease
tempt
and excite you
I want to wake you up
with soft lingering kisses
and tender rhythmic touches
I want to slide my tongue
deeply within you
playfully persistent
until your back arches
and your breath catches
I want your spirit to soar...
before your eyes
are even open
I want to give to you
the passion
joy and love
that you have hungered for...
I want you
to begin each day...
fulfilled.
A grey room with soft walls is waiting down the road.
Purple pills and quiet voices will ease my  heavy load.
They'll place electrodes on my head to shock away the pain.
Then I'll sit drooling as I stare at the morning rain.

Maybe a friend will visit and stare with wide unblinking eyes.
They'll speak cautiously and try to fill me with empty lies.
Even with my drug addled mind will see  through their mask.
There are questions visible on their tongue they refuse to ask.

The stern nurses in their funny hats take us out in the sun.
The sudden warmth and bright light jolt us like a firing gun.
We must stay in line and only speak when we're spoken to.
When one is barely conscious that's an easy thing to do.

I'm back in my locked room starting to fade off to sleep.
I wonder if God can hear my prayers under layers so deep
Please come and save your creation from this destiny.
Sprinkle your magical dust and set this tormented soul free.
 Jan 2014 Nikki Whittaker
Guss
Blah blah blah blah blah.
Blah blah blah.
Blah blah blah.
Blah blah blah blah blah.
Blah blah blah blah,
blah blah.
Blah.
Next page