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 Apr 2014 Sam
Hannah Dutton
those who are afraid of dying
die first.
those who are afraid of love
are broken.
those who are afraid of darkness
are lost.

those who have tried to die,
die last.
those who have loved,
are bent.
those who have been in the dark,
have been found.
If the world is a stage
Then life is but a game
Where the acting is rage
So nobody takes the blame

The audience is of war
Watching for their fate
Drifting from shore to shore
Following this theatre of hate

Nothing changes each scene
Where Death awaits us all
Everyone knows what they've seen
But no one calls for an encore

If the world is a stage
With nothing knew to find
Let them act out their rage
I'm looking for peace of mind
Copyright Chris Smith 2012
 Apr 2014 Sam
Pushing Daisies
He will never,
Fill your lungs,
With sweetness.

He will never,
Hold your,
Aching hand.

He will never,
Mend the,
broken pieces.

He will never,
Learn to,
understand
(I'm sorry I can't think of anything to write recently)
 Apr 2014 Sam
AD Sifford
Good job!
You went to church for Grama on Sunday

...And you texted the whole service

Good job!
You helped out and watched your siblings

...And showed them R-rated movies

Good job!
You wore a Bible verse T-shirt to school

...After buying it with stolen cash

Good job!
You got a purity cross necklace to wear

...Then "hooked up" that same night

Good job!
You got a brand new Bible

...And stored it under your bed with the rest of your " junk"

Good job!
You visited your church's website

...And bookmarked it right beneath *******

Good job!
You went to that Bible-study group

...And afterward, to a party

Good job!
You turned down a smoke while you were there

...'Cause at the time you were just thirsty

Good job!
You prayed at the dinner table

...To get your turn over with for the week

Good job!
You call out to God before falling asleep

...To blame Him for your problems

Good job!
You plan on going to church again tomorrow

Just don't forget your cell-phone

Good job, Christian
Keep it up.
|Written 2010|
*from my Emerge collection, being poem #7. Please see the collection page itself.

This poem is one I've never felt quite satisfied with, yet it's a concept I want to address in this same basic form. Now that my poetry and mind has matured more, I may re-write this as a new poem addressing the issue I intended to in this one, in an improved, or heavier, more emotional, or more clear way. I'm not sure.
Line 18 originally said "under *******", but I thought that could come across as the bookmark bearing that name, rather than the new bookmark being beneath it in the least, to signify lesser priority as added weight to the hypocrisy.

© 2017 A.D. Sifford.
I'm okay with you sharing my poetry, I just ask that you show courtesy by being honest and attributing it to my name. Thank you,
- Sifford
On the altar of even and morn
My fairest love for thee I burn--
The incense of mine heart,
That the frankincense's flame
May consume you whole, dame.
 Apr 2014 Sam
Wednesday
Lucifer
 Apr 2014 Sam
Wednesday
You told me I was a pan of hot water and
sometimes it hurt to touch me
but you never thought to turn the temperature down

you just left me boiling

its april 7th and you are still a joke
but somehow you are the only one laughing anymore

I once told you I saw fire in your eyes
and you said it was just the reflection of the
ever burning in mine

I've only now realized that was nothing but a lie

The devil is not red or pointed with hooves
The devil is of flesh
He arrives as the very thing you want most

His name is Lucifer
And he is tall and handsome

He keeps you blind to the raging hellfire
He does not mention you are floating on the river Styx

When he finally pulls the curtain and
gives you back your corneas and irises
You are like Persephone-

you've already eaten seven pomegranate seeds
 Apr 2014 Sam
Molly
Empty Memories
 Apr 2014 Sam
Molly
Our best night was the night my phone broke.
We had to message each other on Facebook
so we looked through each other's old pictures
and bragged about our relationship status to our friends.
That was the night I called you from the home phone
and I laughed when you told me you once ate human flesh
and I laughed harder when you said
you're supposed to be scared.
That was the night I sent you a poem I found online
and you replied with the most honest profession of love
I have ever heard without using the word love.
That was the night we stayed awake until 5am
even though you had to get up at 6.
I could've sworn I loved you.
I could've sworn you loved me, too.
The flashbacks are breaking my heart.
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