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Carrillo Sep 2016
You see and then connect
From rebound to rebound, it’s all in your head
these broken souls, and misfortunate events
are completely suppressed, once you take them to bed
trapped in a body of sinful debt
the beast accepts weak minds, cash and credit
The walk of shame has evolved into respect
Pictures of every person that has touched your lips
crowds your newsfeed
just like your esteem
Because a connection now is nothing more than
false affection, redirection, and copious rejection
Carrillo Sep 2016
I took a commemorative drive
Back to a town that glorified the wise
It was 500 miles and three packs of cigarettes
The crisp, burning sound embedded in my head

Endlessly deep trenches
That birthed my inflictions
Created character, said my intentions
To rise above, and destroy pretenses

I went passed those rusty, horrid gates
That allegedly guarded us and kept us safe
Then, I entered the palace, the core of my pain
Where the man stood, stoically and still bound in his chains

He was a deathly entity without any shame
But his smile was deceiving, as if he had changed
“This time” he said, “We won’t die” he tried to explain
But his eyes lied, and his tone was vain

The crisp, burning sound echoed as I left
The man, helpless and distressed
Became nothing more than a substance that
I won’t digest
A gentleman holds my hand.

A man pulls my hair.

A soulmate will do both.

― Alessandra Torre
A poem on how to treat women, and I always remember these simple words.
Lunar Jul 2016
Art would last forever
But i learned feelings don't always do
And even if i painted you in hues
With every classic medium of art
This old tradition of painting
You on my canvas
As well, would never last

And even if i used digital art now
Where it would be fast
To bring you back
Reminded me that
This love faded faster
And this advanced way
Of lauding my love for you
Would never really make me move on
Hi nicole i wrote this for you as i stared across the table and you look sad so i decided to write something for you :-)
Ann M Johnson May 2016
A poet upon his or her death " Does Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night", for they have something to share with future generations through their poetry.
Robert Frost "When faced with two roads diverged in a yellow wood he took the one less traveled by and that made all the difference."
Was William Blake laid to rest under A Poison Tree? Or was he saying that we are like  poison to our enemies? One beauty concerning poetry is that it can be left up to the interpretation of the reader. Even if it was written to mean one thing the readers can discover several possible meanings to the poem like discovering jewels each time it is read.
Perhaps lets for fun imagine" The Raven", giving the eulogy for Edgar Allan Poe, and talking about his life and the loves that inspired his poetry especially Poe's beloved" Annabel Lee" and "Lenore. "The Raven" proceeded to close his eulogy with the words " Nevermore".
Maybe when it was time for William Shakespeare to be laid to rest while dressed up in his Sunday best. His poem " Fear No More" could have been read leaving not one dry eye as many fans cried for a great poet and playwright had died. A big comfort to his fans is that his work is forevermore immortalized in print for future generations to enjoy. As Dylan Thomas best stated " And Death Shall Have No Dominion" because the poets words still live on in print to be read and enjoyed and discovered by many generations to come. The poems that a poet writes are there legacy that they leave for future generations.
Check out the classic poems referenced above: Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas and Death Shall Have no Dominion, also by Dylan Thomas. The Road not Taken by Robert Frost. A Poison Tree by William Blake. The Raven, Annabel Lee, and Lenore, by Edgar Allen Poe. Fear No More by William Shakespeare. I had been thinking about this in memoriam idea for the last 3 to 4 years I finally got it done in time for Memorial Day. I hope you enjoy it. Please be inspired to leave a lasting poetic legacy for future generations to come.
She wears t-shirts of the Beatles

And she loves the Rolling Stones

She wakes up to David Bowie

And she dreams of the Ramones

She goes out to dance clubs nightly

Till her ear drums both get blown

But, she has a deep dark secret

That her friends will never know



At night when she is by herself

When the room is nice and dark

She slips beneath the covers

With Johann Sebastian Bach

She's a closet classic ******

And her name is Amber Clark

She just loves orchestral music

The rock and roll is just a lark

Her friends think something classical

Is something for your folks

They cannot play an instrument

They cannot read the notes

They think that  chamber music is

What people play on boats

But she has a deep dark secret

She loves the stuff that Chopin wrote

At night when she is by herself

And her friends have gotten ******

She slips beneath the covers

And she listens to some Liszt

She listens to it many times

In case there's things she's missed

She's a closet classic ******

She has "Baroque" upon her wrist

She listens to the music

That her friends like to be cool

If she told them what she listens to

They'd laugh her out of school

So, when they go out  clubbing

She will join them as a rule

But...ah that deep dark secret

This girl is no ones fool

She listens to Beethoven

And she knows each piece by heart

She knows where one bar ends

And another one will start

She can play most every instrument

And she knows most every part

She's a classic closet ******

But she still knows Boyce and Hart

She has cds in her library

And most sit there untouched

When her friends are gone they don't get played

She doesn't like them much

She would rather hear a symphony

By a composter who was Dutch

But there's that deep dark secret

And she won't use it a crutch

At night when she is warm in bed

She listens to Mozart

She needs a little Nacht Musique

To open up her heart

It's a piece that sets her mind a blaze

It hits her like a dart

She's a closet classic ******

And she keeps her worlds apart

By day she sings Bruce Springsteen

At night she listens to

Composers that her friends don't know

They're so old they're new

So she keeps her world a secret

For she knows what they would do

If they found she didn't know

Where were you in sixty two

But at night she is a ******

And she listens to Mozart

She needs that piece of music

To shoot an arrow through her heart

Eine Kleine Nachmusic

She conducts every part

She's our Closet Classic ******

shhh.....the song's about to start...
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