Doing what must be done, even though the nerves are shot
pretending it was painless, despite all knowing, it was not

Heroes come and heroes go, none a simple type of quest
fighting up and beyond, bound too, an honorable request

Whatever holds the mind to need, following the line to end
adhering stricture, the innocent and weak, too protect and defend

Without this glue, where would we be, it holds the true and brave
binding to the heart and soul, and far, beyond the grave

Deeds speak louder than words, but words, define, the deed...
Baylee Jan 25

Confined to the four walls of my room,
Lost without you,
Locked away in my self made tomb.
Crying into my pillow
Til its tear stained on both sides,
Knowing that that was our last goodbye.
I miss you.
There is nothing left to do but
Reminisce you,
And I intend to.
You were my heroin.
And when I was down,
You were my heroine.
But now that well is dry,
So I drown my sorrows in booze
And all I do is cry.
I don't know why you left me,
But it makes sense;
I'm depressing, you see.
But it's okay because
I have a lot of time alone,
To think of where I first went wrong.
But you're all I seem to want,
You're all I ever think of,
And your presence haunts my thoughts.

Light House Jan 8

..The one they say ..who moves in a slinky way..
one day.. vanished.. ..without a trace.
All of her silk, she took with herself..even her sash; &
if she were that-metaphorical-sun, then along with all of her lace..
she too ~~ took-away all of her rays.  A peripheral-glare ..& like that ..!
she was gone…  She left, she ..the Sun ~ fled her city, her Garden ..even her flower…..
...His heart, she too ~ if abandoned, still would possess forever, along with God
..for only by these two could he ever be owned.  But she had her reasons, claiming the Garden, this flower… ...a traitor.  Her life feeling cheated... so she wrenched her curvy dagger..
& as well as blame -- too -- cast ...was stone, releasing the blood
from his-severed-veins, as she pushed-in ---- deeply seeding, entangling ..the blade,
..within his skull, through his brain -- - -- - -- - jolting him from the back,
having first made an entrance, in-through ..his stem.
She titled this piece “Love Knot,” for he & the dagger were now as one
like a braid.  Out the front of-one-of-his-eyes ..she had whispered it; the end of the tine now extended its point through, sharpening his sight ..Twisted thoughts ~ provided by her, however
for a pupil that is what a teacher ..ought do.
She had killed him ..he died & fell.  This time it was not from the sky....
or from the clouds, or from space; it was from where he was standing,
which was -- with his back turned -- in front of Grace.
But before he fell, he spun himself ‘round; he already knew it was her,
but he wanted to see her face-to-face.  He wanted to look into her eyes ~
as if they were both coming ..however, only he..  ...was going.
With his other eye ...he winked.
His body hit the ground; he landed on his back facing up.
The impact upon the tail-end -- the stub -- forced the tip to further jut..
-out through the black round part of the middle of his eye, midway during the thud.
The dust settled, the air cleared... She stepped closer... to this mess,
before she would forever be gone.  She knelt down beside him,
& pet his face clean, wiping off all of the blood.  Her just being there...
~like dirty rags once lathered in mud, now dipped anew, re-stained,
sustained… reminded through.. her presence; his filth ..soaked first in her suds.
But he would take no more baths; there would be no more bubbles.
His remains would only stew.  She closed his one good eye & kissed its lid,
stood ..nodded, & off she flew...
                   ...away from here,
            from this Garden & her flower;
            she had relinquished herself, & back
            into him she had returned-at-once
            all of his power.

Nothing italicized, apologies it didn't transfer properly.  Will edit later.
All my love.

Light House Oct 2016

When I was younger, my mother taught me about monsters -
how they will always be. Although, I am grateful because she
taught me how to live & to live, Happily.

She taught me another way.

She taught me how to reach,
how to touch parts of life, how to take piece-by-piece;
& how to devour pieces I think I cannot to find hidden players
in this game of hide-&-seek. Beyond bars, she taught me how to breach. Even beyond black, she taught me how to bleach. She told me,

"My son, breathe."

She forged within me a voice.
& taught me Patience… …How to achieve….
…How to attain things others claim to want,
how to acquire the things I truly desire,
how to handle -- to hold -- things, others only hope of having.
She taught me how to survive; she taught me Faith.
She taught me how to dream;
she taught me how to seize.

She taught me how to speak.

She also taught me to do,
…how to face …& the importance of Strength
& coupling Courage; & along with Patience,
she taught me Restraint - how to think, & about riddles,
rules, & thought. She has taught me a lot;

she taught me everything, including when to rest
& that I can, even when I cannot.

When I was younger, my mother taught me about monsters -
how they will always be; but along with those shadows,
she also taught me, to bear. Alongside those demons, she taught me how to care.
Alongside those storms, she taught me how to dare;
she taught me how to fly. Alongside all-hell,
she taught me how to share. Underneath the rain,
she taught me how to sail -- that I must sail --
as if all skies & all weathers are fair.

She taught me Justice & Balance -- about walls & force --
…about opposites & halves. She taught me how to stay my course;
& above all else, she taught me how to strike ---- ---- ---- ----
& that I am as strong as she is -- to raise my standards --
that she & I...
   -- that our stories,
    -- our lives
...are alike.

She taught me Love & how to correct something at its core.
She taught me how to vanquish evil (including all monsters)
resolving it (all of them) at the source.
...How to connect -- considerately -- at the source.

She taught me to attack!
To go for it! To try! To try harder!

She taught me to keep trying.
She taught me Heart. She showed me how to fight.

She taught me how to die, how to land....
with Grace upon lava - making things like magma,
into mere warm, toasting sand.

She taught me how to fall.
She guided me through the art of failure
& taught me of its science ---- making me resilient
& accepting of reliance.

When I was younger, my mother taught me about monsters -
how they will always be. When I was younger, my mother
...taught me,
& fed me;
she gave me a home,
a place to sleep. Security.
She kept me safe,
a child's dream;
because of her
I am Alive.
& because of her,
I am no sheep.

Because of her I have found Fortitude,
because of her I am able to leap.
It is because of her I dive.

When I was younger,
my mother taught me about monsters -
how they will always be. She also taught me
how to stand against each.

She said,

"You ...more than any of them,
  ...even more than any of their own terrible champions....
  They fear you, my-child, instead. They fear you
     ...far more than you fear any of them."

"....Each & every beast," she said.

When I was younger, my mother taught me about monsters...
She taught me not only as a parent or teacher,
but also as a heroine, someone of courage,
             someone brave.

She led me, like light -- like a warrior, with a sense of doggedness,
like a knight, with passion & faith -- through life, myself.

When I was younger, my mother taught me as a heroine.
& along the way, she introduced me to the hero within.

My mother is a liar.
She claims she is not an artist,
but (a) discipline she taught me - an art,

              the art of being ~~~~

....Of Rising & Accepting....
 --Of Standing - Face-to-Face --
    Against It All, Against All of It...

                                                         ­        ~~~~ against Everything.

Rough copy, excuse any errors. Turned out to be a bit longer than I anticipated. & it is turning out to be "later"  night as usual.... Goodnight all.

*This is a tribute to my mother, as well as a skeleton for a character I have in mind, "Faelyn." I shall digress for now, for it is late. As always, I shall try to be more active this weekend. & hopefully expand on this or at least refine it down a bit.

You all have my love,

Temporal Fugue Sep 2016

Batman in his belfry
Robin at the all you can eat buffet
Batgirl in my bedroom
things going, all my way

Riddler plying his prose
Gordon on patrol
Catwoman in my trousers
happily, loosing all control

Joker playing the saboteur
Penguin relaxing at the shore
Harley-quinn in my shower
as golly gee and will-a-curs
I can't ask for nothing more

Erin Suurkoivu Sep 2016

You are beautiful and I am not.
We are the habits of our forefathers.

We can choose to forget them, let them
Drain away like sand through glass,

Distant dust of history. As much as we try
To remember, desire is stronger than memory.

Sometimes I turn to sculpt soft clay,
Loose and stark in my hands.

And then I abandon the mess. I should keep
My fingertips stained red for effort.

I remember dreaming a vision:
Heroine of my own story,

Walking the grey beach in winter,
Projected far into the future when I might realize it.

Clay does not sculpt itself.
Prayers go unanswered. Here

I dwell in my own lit house,
Multiple yellow lights

Floating in the dark, mirror for
The starry night that I might see.  

We’re the only species with
Wings on our feet. We’ve molded

Paper into something precious.
Currency of kings. Gold origami.

Honeyed words remain my nectar.
Rome is a daylong process that is for ever.

To shape is a practice
Known by time and being,

That I may become a living embodiment.
That I might find grace in a raised arm, a bent leg.

That I might see myself through a filter of love.
That I might remember there are no

That we are beautiful for our very selves.

From my poetry collection, Camera Obscura, available at and Amazon.
Madison Jun 2016

you're my hero, i need you.

you are my hero, and you are my heroine
Shaine Fraz Jun 2016

Crime and other violent thoughts are at a low,
What exactly happen the evening of December

I was brushed upon,
I was sought after,
There were muggers and muggles,
And I saw my life flash

Déjà vu but still a feeling foreign,
Those eyes were distant
Weapons-- uncommon
I've seen those eyes before,

They are eyes I've longed for
My protector, those are eyes of my Prophet
My savior
guardian and princess of the Serengeti

Cling to uncertainty and name you Visual

© 2016 by S Fraz All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of S Fraz
Leia R May 2016

i don't want you to be
my knight in shining armour.
i want you to be my trusty
loyal and supportive as you
watch me learn and grow,
letting me save myself


thepoeticdiary Jan 2016

What if you're the moon in my black and white picture, that helps me to go through the darkest nights ?

- you're adorable.
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