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Caged I crawl,
Within the filth of society,
Labelled a freak by those who call others blind,
But how does that give them vision?

If you see me as different,
Then obviously I'm a threat,
So you must contain me and chain me,
You call me weak, yet you think you're strong?

But over time,
You cage too many of us,
We are the new society,
With labels we wrote ourselves,
And this inevitable insanity,
Will now only be endured by you,

Because you're normal,
And we're blind,

But we can see you,
And we'll cage you.
 Sep 2014 Richard B Sebastian
r
whiskey whispers
sound like you

a burning smokey river
-fire down below

kiss my fever

whiskey whispers-
get me through.

r ~ 9/21/14
\¥/\
   |     •
  / \
Men
"I'm so complicated!"
he said, exasperated.
But really,
he was too young
to understand himself.
Self-perception can be a prison or an opportunity.
If everything *****, look at yourself first.
A thousand tin candles*
Light the floor
Each one burns
Heart
Sight
Love
A moment that still
Burns within my heart
Every day more candles
Burn
Flicker
Love
Is the fuels that makes
Each one burn
Each one is a memory
Of a beat stored
Love,
Beats,
Eternally,
Forever burning on the
Walls
Of my
Heart
A thousand tin candles
Burn brightly within the beats of my love.
Please, break my heart
So I can write a collection of poems.
I need to drown in the feeling
Of being alone.

I want my heart to break
I want my soul to ache.
For the feeling of achievement
I'll put my mentality at stake.

I need to chase the feeling.
I love to breathe that feeling.
Because I'm finally good at something.
And if my heart isn't broken,
Then I'm absolutely nothing.
Behind my mask of silver and gold
My identity is hidden well
No one sees past the masquerade
The beauty of the mask puts them under a spell
They get lost in swirling patterns
Of crushed velvet in midnight blue
In a trance and blind to the truth
Tears run down my face like morning dew
But no one notices
The pain that I bear
Because I still dance in circles
With the moonlight in my hair
And the mask on my face
Is where it shall stay
Because my life is a masquerade
And it fools the world every day
I like it.
I like being here.
With my face down lying on my stomach.
Breathing.
Feeling.
Listening.
Being.
There could be a storm outside.
I wouldn't care.
As long as there is silence inside,
There's nothing I can not bear.
 Sep 2014 Richard B Sebastian
r
God,
**** them *******
before they **** me.

Amen.

r ~ 9/18/14
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  |      *
/ \
Going down to Festival Park, just to see the sights

Neve know what you might see, It changes every night

Buskers, dancers, singers too, kids with faces painted

Pickpockets, con men and others who, live life by methods tainted

A hundred years ago or so the park was then donated

The family Billings, gave the land and their lovely gift was feted

Every year a party held in honour of the Billings

Until that time in fifty one, when the town had all those killings

No one in the town that year was safe while he was out there

He didn't pick just one set type, he didn't seem to care

Couples parked in cars at night at the far end of the park

It wasn't a safe place to be, especially after dark

Two men were found with bullet wounds, dead upon a bench

The Wylie boy was found because a dog had liked the stench

Yourng Tommy Wylie, 12 years old, was found behind the boat shed

The only thing to tie his case was the bullet in the head

The park though nice in daylight, at night became a veldt

Everyone was scared to death, that;s the way the whole town felt

A young man by the cenothaph and two more by the lake

The police had no clear suspect, they needed a mistake

The party at the park was stopped and other functions too

For the killer could be from this town, and who nobody knew

Eleven deaths in that dark summer put the town upon the map

Tourists would not visit, they would not come to his trap

The police were inundated with phone calls far and wide

People turning in everyone and making others hide

A task force was assembled, 30 cops from out of state

They had to find this killer before it was too late

While they interviewed the suspects the park had no events

You could go on through in daytime, but it still made one feel tense

The city added lighting to walkways and no luck

The only thing it added was taxes went up a buck

No other killings happened until that one in sixty two

It was just like all the others, so they thought that they knew who

Was back in town gone hunting, but there only was that one

A young man in his rambler, sitting drinking in the sun

The task force was abandoned back in fifty five

But after this last ******, they called back only five

This time it would be different, this time they'd get their man

Technolgy had changed alot, he'd be caught before he ran

A shell casing was found beside the wall down by the bridge

And it had a print upon it, they identified the ridge

Years ago they'd interviewed about three hundred men

But with this single ridge print, it was narrowed down to ten

Eight were dead and one left town, so with only one to find

A dragnet and a takedown plan were carefully designed

They knew that he'd be running if they called him back to talk

And they couldn't risk to lose him, or their whole case would walk

So with some misinformation printed in a column in the post

They hoped they flush their suspect, the one they wanted most

They said they'd made the capture, confessing every crime

They would take away his thunder, dropping hints on every crime

But, they would omit one last case, the one he started with

For this was information that they wanted him to give

It worked, he dropped a letter to the paper that same week

Threatening to strike again, and the first case he did leak

In his anger and his hurry he would leave another clue

They found another print to help them out and with this they had two

They swooped in and arrested a man of no abode

He lived in city missions he had no moral code

His capture freed the city from the monster in the park

It was now a place where you could go, and feel safe after dark

The festival committee for the city planned a fete

The victims of this monster, their lives they'd celebrate

A monument to those who died would be erected in their honor

And the whole thing would be organized by the Mayor...Mayor John B Connor

The names were read of each victim and then two minutes silence reigned

And a wreath for every family involved, these then were laid

New trees were planted for them all in a corner near a wall

And the park would schedule new events and brand new festivals

But, every year on this same day, on the tenth day of month ten

They would hold a special service for these women and these men

The park was now a joyous place, like it was meant to be

And if you're there, out by the wall...then you just might locate me.
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