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Ylzm 5d
A Nation
A collection of accidentals
Born in terror and blood
Whitewashed in anthems and history
A unity now compelled
Even to shed blood
Against your brothers
Trapped in the same monstrosity
Yet many waved its flag
Proudly and foolishly
And the Banner of Love
Left trampled in blood and death.
An autobiography in prose and poetry
by Catherine Jarvis aka invisible ink

This is not a peaceful, easy read
A bedtime story soft and mild
It rends the breast and makes it bleed
Brings savagery out of a child.

Who is this woman, you may ask.
This changeling growing up unseen
She drank out of a drugg'd flask
Who, from breast of poison, weaned.

The paper ochre, the ink blood red
It vanishes in the brown and yellow
A bloodbath which is blank instead
It could nev'r be mild or mellow.

Growing wild, Wednesday's child
Her veins flow arsenic and lace
Web of tattoos artwork styled
Growing weirdly on her face

Now she has small wings of gold
Rusted silver, which is odd
Jesus' blood now courses bold
Purified by our Great God

Invisible ink
aka Catherine Jarvis
I'm starting a book. I plan to finish this one!
I once met a man made out of steel;- but he was too afraid
To disclose all the hearts he stole, instead pointing out
All the love he had bought, as one constantly waiting for
What’s in store. The wise con artist selling out dreams
Only to lonely fools, who buy into flightless ideas-
Such tall ideas, with the promise of giving them wings

And to those he came to meet;- his very eyes carved up
Their bodies, to offer as fresh sushi; a bloodlust fishman,
Holding a charm with such impeccable practice
He spoke love’s language, with words sharp as knives
Cutting all costs, to make any love feel exorbitantly priced;

Alas I present myself to you- the author of such dreams
I am a halibut; playacting to have tough flesh underneath,
Drowning in the endless submerging feeling, of love
Swimming an entire life; sinking deeper by a heart of steel,
Still, anything that must breathe, must certainly bleed.

As when I bought a taste of love, it indeed
Tasted like my very own blood!
Sof Jul 8
He embraced me and squeezed
as if I was his lifeline.
The thorns dug through my skin,
spilling blood.
I twisted in pain,
trying to wrench myself free,
but succeeded only in digging the thorns in more deeply.
Jeremy Betts Jun 26
Can't dislodge the shiit clot caught in my brain stem
On a marry go round of hell hounds, can't outrun them
I find it strange that a life can be all pain with no gain
I find it strange that nothing remains other than battle wounds and blood stains
The coward in me always wins with it's upper hand
My grand plan is to get my head deeper in the sand
The conversations from both sides of my mouth become simultaneous
Keeping this unstable, rival mindset at bay is strenuous, it's made me venomous

We’ll bury more of the dead; -  
rather than burying the problem  
that caused their death,  

We prefer not to bury the hatchet;  
instead raise them up in arms—
yelling, “let’s all go to war”
Malia May 6
My faith is mine
And mine alone.

This hope,
You cannot take away.

I’ll be drained
Of each drop of blood,
You’ll drag my name
Through the cherry-stained mud,
But my soul, my soul, my soul
Is saved.

My soul, my soul,
Is saved.
Fey Apr 25
In shadows deep where moonlight wanes,
Where whispers dance in eerie strains,
There prowls a creature of the night,
With eyes aglow, a chilling sight.

Amongst the hibiscus, crimson blooms,
Their petals soaked in midnight gloom,
A vampire lurks, his thirst unbound,
In silence, stalking without a sound.

He yearns for blood, a crimson stream,
A haunting echo, a silent scream,
And in the garden, where hibiscus weep,
His hunger stirs from slumber's keep.

Yet amidst the darkness, a delicate grace,
The hibiscus blooms, a fragile embrace,
Their beauty rivals the moon's soft glow,
A stark contrast to the vampire's woe.

For in their petals, life's essence lies,
A crimson hue beneath starlit skies,
But to the vampire, they hold no cure,
Just reminders of what he must endure.

So in the night, where shadows creep,
The vampire hunts, his hunger deep,
And though the hibiscus may wilt and fade,
Their beauty lingers in the darkness, unswayed.

© fey (24/04/24)
It’s the same since Gypsy women,
It’s the same since all Gypsy men;
it always has been Gypsy blood;
It always will be until then.
For I am humbled by Oral Tradition, thank you my Great-Grandmother…
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