If passion is a crime,
Is my muse but a disease?

If love is a ******,
Is my ink but the blood?

If *** is the devil,
Is my paper but the cure?

If life is the game,
Is my passion not to write?

You ripped my soul out
You ripped it clean
Inserted a demon
That *******, FIEND!

You released the evil
You released it whole
Fighting against it
I can't win this war

Why did you do it?
Why did you let go?
I buried the hatchet
Now I am digging the hole

Burning with rage
Burning with fear
It was locked away forever
Now forcibly here

Just leave me alone
Just leave me so free
I was standing so proud
Now fetal with need

You did this to me
You would do it again
Releasing this hell
No mind or no brain!!

Words are just carbon duplicates
of intertwined shapes to insinuate a specific instruction

Trying to make sense of it all, intricate complications seem to follow the very next sound

Wrapped in their secular meaning and internal definitions, we don't know the true pieces inside them

Does it mean light, dark, weird, crazy, confused, red, green, or gold?

Left, right, or upside down, who knows.
Its a guessing game of sorts. What do you see? Is it the same as me?

Linguistics interrupting unusual interceptions of crossing patterns within mixed mediums

See Jack Run, Red Fish, Blue Fish or 1,2,3
What does this all mean? Is it all free?

Signs of simple or insane complexities
surrounding mental restraints.
Turning the page, what do we see next?

Oh ok, now I get it !! Letters of different languages placed within the confines of a verbal, visual, or audible prison

"Call me Ishmael"

We are taken back
We are taken back into the dreams of mortal man
We are taken back drunken and confused

Step on the broken land mine
No explosion or sound
Just wait........you heard the faint click
Oh ****!!
BOOM!!!
Distorted body and bandaged limbs

How life changes with just one step
Step over the madness of the world
Open your eyes
Then cry for what you have missed

Insanity rules the naked past,
obscured in fever and forever last.

Paralleled with stains of darkened crowns,
stabbing northward, taking no grounds

No thirst is but solemn on foreign sands,
explosive disdain near the Highlands.

Victory was seen but was taken away,
nowhere to turn, nowhere to stay

Caught and quartered for all to see
A hero, a martyr, for god and country

I went to school,
wanting to learn.
Instead of friends,
I just got burned.

I wasn't the fastest,
or even the smartest.
I sat in the back,
next to the kid with the glasses

First came the names,
I thought was a joke.
but the mood all changed,
internally I choked.

When the games were played,
I was picked last,
standing by myself,
it was always a laugh.

Names grew meaner,
as tall as the lad,
the hits came with it
I knew it was bad.

Black followed blue,
on covered up arms.
Didn't show my teacher,
I was afraid of the harms.

I had few friends
and they didn't even know.
The torture, that beset me,
hidden down below.

Each day, home from school,
I cried in my room.
Isolated and degraded,
Embedded in my tomb.

No one would be believe,
No teacher or a friend,
Had no where to turn to,
Felt like the end.

Teen life was a disaster,
living in solitary.
Wanted to change my life,
I joined the military.

My life
My sorrow
My bitter pill to swallow

My dark
My light
My lonely cry in sight

My heart
My soul
My feeling is so cold

In days of the past, the bombs and bullets did fly,
my comrades in arms had said their final good byes.
Their blood and their souls was left on the shore,
their battles were over but so not the war.

They lie here in silence,
They lie here in sleep,
They lie here together among the rolling fields of green.
So these are my heros as I kneel here today,
Never forgotten and never in dismay.

© Silent Screams

Poetry, the true breakfast of champions.

Trying to look in one direction,
It's hard to navigate my own transition.

Many times, I see myself like no other, could I be your sister or your brother? So, then why should I even bother?

My feelings about myself appear difficult for others to comprehend as this has become my own rollercoaster to the sweet, bitter end.

It is not only a mindset of my own personal avenues that I must navigate but they are, also, my own internal processes to which I contemplate and separate.

The push pull of my internal devices appears harmful at times. Feelings of not being happy, called confused, or it's a just phase are word salad moments committing a series of crimes.

I know these interpretations that live inside of me, and I know that the choices that I make can either set me free or keep me locked up forever. Ying-yang in every mindful corner of the room.

I heard a saying the other day that said, "Broken crayons still color". First, I was at odds with this. Because was I really broken? Was my crayon wrapper torn off? Am I being labeled these things from distant voices?

These become unreliable truths made up in feeble minds. Not understanding the differences among us all. It is not creating comfortable realities for us to travel though. Their choices will define them and my choices will define me.

Do I struggle at times? For the most part, yes!!

But you know something.
I am ok with that.
I am ok making my own choices, and I am ok being the person I want to be. That is something that cannot be taken away.

Any transition in life can come with its own set of difficulties. How we navigate them will be the determining factors of our success in all that we do.

Confused conjucture breeds many different lies

It becomes the screaming banshee of our time, wicked as one can see through our rose colored glasses

It is like a pocketwatch that has been wound up too tight, the springs have sprung on the inside

Demented through the years, they become uncertain with time itself, grey and cloudy

Pressed against the center stage,  a voice rang ill-fated truths to all ears, but no one was listening

Pushed out of the seat of demise, we stare back at the crimes, allowing a dismal approach to our self conscience

It is to say four be six in a different view only to sit below the compass of the operators

We can imagine many things forfeiting who we are, bleeding rituals of cultural disbelief, we turn around and see

So be the right or wrong, it becomes a sense of our moral code, when do we pick it up and put in our pocket though

Sacrifice thy sacred heart
giveth to me not torn apart

Mend my wound by your withered hands
By my side you take a stand

A glow from the candle had lit the room,
the enemy nears which seals my doom

The squeeze of her hand began to soothe my soul,
A tear burst out and began to roll

Crash through door, the soldier appears,
Squeezing the trigger, his gaze showed no fears

Burning, searing, blood starts to spill
she drops to her knees and silence was still

Numbness besets, all the pain is gone
Floating above, she is singing our song

Her soldier was taken away from his wife
Rest my dear, eternal life

May every writer's muse melt into the very fabric of the pulp that lay before him, so that his dreams and thoughts be forever inlaid into the minds of those who cast their eyes upon them. May his works be set in solid and never turn yellow.

Don't complain, don't gloat, just go and grow

-As spoken from the aged and wizened Veronika Sorrow

Deep in the hallows
the sanctity turns,
Feeding the fire
and feeling the burns

The bells do toll
at the midnight hour,
Rises above
he gains his power

Darkness surrounds
like the cloak of his breath
he feeds his soul
with the drink of their red

Breathless lass
falls to the floor,
Out of his arms
she is no more

One more victim
one hundred years
taking its toll
no more tears

The sun start to rise
he begins to sleep,
Shadows and fears
Everyone weeps!!

Where do I begin?
Driven into my thoughts like a rusty knife
cutting a razor edge into pantomime's voiceless line

I am speechless.
Silenced by the unknown and quiet to my soul.

It was a dream I couldn't wake up from.

A nightmare !!

Maybe it was the poison, screaming tortures, that flows inside of me, I just don't know anymore.

I stand stoic, like a statue in the park, frozen on the inside and out. I start to feel the moss grow on my bronze feet.

Anchored to the ground.
I couldn't move.

I am a ghost in departure drowning in  secluded feelings I can not explain.

Succulent tears
drips blood on the tree,
******* in chains
Never be free

Deep in my mind
time passes slow,
Trapped and insane
I bow to below

Vastness surrounds,
who's calling my name
Tap on the glass
its breaking the pane

Serenity smiles
she's making the grade,
I see no evil
but fear total fade

The brightness blinds me,
where do I pay
Alone in my room
with nothing to say!!

© Silent Screams

Where do we start but in the womb
where do we end up but in a tomb

We take a breathe, we see the light
We take no more, we feel the blight

Days do start living a dream
Days do end, never ending scream.

© Silent Screams