I'm an addict,
I can't go a day without it,
It just makes me feel so special,
They say once you start you can get help:
Rehab

But I don't want to be cured,
I love this feeling.
With every breath i inhale i can feel the drug taking over,
Yes, I am aware of the consequences,
But i am more afraid of losing it.

This intense feeling of pleasure makes me want more.
We live in a chaotic world of emotional despair,
I'm fearful of being alone and rejected.
That's why i will never stop having you,
Your love is my drug.


                                                                                                Jonesy  ©

Pretty hair, pretty eyes, pretty face with pretty lies.
No one knows the pain,
They say us as young ones can't experience pain,
But they don't know,
Everyday is a struggle,
Shedding invisible tears,
Well at least those i can't hold back anymore.

It's hard enough already living life without knowing who you are,
But even harder lying to yourself about it.
I swear one day i will cry without stopping,
Or maybe it's too late for that now.

Everyday i come around friends,
Smiling, it's a fixed expression.
I go home and sing the pain away or make a poem,
Without talking about the pain.


                                                         ­                                 Jonesy  ©

She's beautiful,
In her silky, midnight fur
Sitting howling at the moon.

No, you would never believe she's independent,
A huntress of the night.
The monsters fear her,
But other wolves adore her bravery.

She was not egotistic,
For she knew her strength as a lone Wolf will never overcome the strength of a wolf pack.
As independent and as brave as you are,
You will never be as strong as you would be with the pack.

Its better and more fun to be with a pack of wolves that care about you even as a lone Wolf.

The full moon glows,
Night is at its peak
And she howls as her pack sleeps.

The lone wolf observes the ocean's waters in tranquility,
All she needs is the love of her pack.

                                                                                                   Jonesy  ©

Iron Hearts are beautiful,
Even though they are many,
They are unique.

They are magical because
They know what its like to be broken.

Iron Hearts have power and experience on their side.
Sure when we say we have iron hearts,
Doesn't mean our hearts are made of iron,
It means we protect our heart.

Upon wonder I ask myself why is there a sword going through the heart,
Then it hits me :It means that we are not " immune from soars",
Matter of fact the sword represents pain,
But the sword also gives us another chance to live life,
And give your heart another go.

"I love you"
Sure its three words that put us in trouble,
But yet we want to hear it;

They say hearts are meant to be broken, torn, and shattered,
Like its nothing.
Well the heart can be healed just not as fast as it can be broken.

Love, privileges and choices are made every day by all hearts,
But Stay Strong !
We are the iron hearts of the future.


                                                                                          Jonesy  ©

Long hair, fair skin complexion
Pretty blue eyes;
A boy's desire, a boy's hope, a boy's downfall,

Her hair flown by a disastrous brush,
Her skin as dreamy as the vicious snake,
Her heart as cold as the ice in his lust for her.

Maybe if she took off her disguise of beauty he would see her for who she really is,
Maybe just maybe he would love her for who she is,

But he leaves her crying and doesn't look back.

Sometimes she tries to be strong,
She tries to hold on,
So she puts on makeup,
Puts on weave,
To find another guy to please,
Just to be hurt again in the same way,
She just wants to be loved..........
By the wrong guy.

But all I can say is she doesn't know how special she is to this one person,
And she will never know,
If she's making up her face,
Cause he will never find her;

Just another world to let her know,
PRETTY LIES

                                                                                      Jonesy  ©

countless voices
cry to life
the giver
seeking, begging
give us
'more, more
and yet more',
till they hear
life saying,
'I shall give
when I receive'.

between life and death
life stares
and so do we
silence and sound
we ask each other
' what did we give?'