I do not want to talk

You turned me into an ash tray

One that is smaller than you,

But has been put to more use

I am overflowing with carcinogenic filth



However,

Now I see you are more,

Far more than an ash tray

You’re the whole apothecary



While you drown your worries

Mine fill me up

Just another tap from another’s cigarette

The ash piles up

Onto the mountain, without a fuss



I have lost the desire to dine

And whine

With you

Oh sweet and true apothecary, I worry about you

Hello, Romeo
Tip-toe, So slow
Bellow from below
Slay foe, Must go
Can't know of love though
Death glow
Such woe
You go, solo
Oh no!
Follow with fatal blow
End Show

This is the story of my Juliet;

Of her Montague and his Capulet.

Roses smell sweet with no care of their name,

But with “Montague”, this just isn’t the same.



As a cruel joke, fate bonded their hearts,

For fate knew too well that they’d be torn apart;

Torn apart like the brawling in the public square,

Where Montagues and Capulets disagreed there.



I am the one whom Romeo loved,

Before he’d first seen his Capulet dove.

It happened quite fast, and inside the year,

We were something akin to the three musketeers.



We knew if the secretive lovers were caught,

They’d both be destroyed; impaled on the spot.

So I covered for them, and I helped them along,

And I did my best to sing over their song.



I witnessed the wedding, the friar’s compliance

In hopes that the families would form an alliance.

And while I had my doubts, I kept my lips sealed;

I allowed them to hope the tooth fairy was real.



Soon after that, I was with Romeo and his friend,

When Tybalt came along and caused Mercutio’s end.

I ran after Romeo, begging “Please! Use your head!”

But it was to no avail, and soon Tybalt was dead.



So Romeo was banished, and I sat with his wife;

I comforted her as she wept of her strife.

She was almost alright, but fate slipped on its gloves,

And she was betrothed to a man she couldn’t love.



Three times, I convinced her to put down her knife;

“You can do this, Capulet, don’t you take your own life!”

I spoke with the friar, and he had not a clue,

Till I formed a plan and a mysterious brew.



I sent a letter to Romeo, warning him of her sleep,

And so Juliet drank into slumber most deep.

Two days went past, then I felt my heart stop-

My letter had been returned, and Romeo’s address dropped.



I tripped a few times as I sprinted towards her grave,

All the while howling out Romeo’s name.

I leapt across ditches, I dashed around trees,

And I fount Montague, fallen to his knees.



“She is pure beauty, even in her death,”

Said Romeo as he took his last breath.

I lunged, and I screamed until my throat bled,

But bleed as I might, Romeo was now dead.



Juliet yawned, and it turned into a cry,

As the sight of his body burned into her eyes.

I stood up, hands shaking, and reached out to my friend,

But I knew this was a wound my soft words couldn’t mend.



“Juliet, don’t,” I pleaded weakly.

She shook her head sadly, said “I’m sorry, Rosaline.”

I held her small frame, and I felt her depart,

As she drove her own blade into her broken heart.



Montagues and Capulets sat together that day,

And they mourned their children and regretted their hate.

I stood up, though it pained me, and they looked distressed

At Juliet’s blood that soaked through my dress.



“This is your fault!” I yelled hoarsely at the lords.

“You ran your own children through with your swords!

If you are so noble, ordained from above,

How could you destroy their lives and their love!?”



“Don’t you dare let their sacrifices end in vain!

They were my friends, and they died so you’d change!

I hope you make peace, because your bigotry

Took Romeo and Juliet away from me!”



So it was, that the families have since lived in harmony,

But that is something that now hardly matters to me.

A rose by any name would still smell as sweet,

But if “Montague” was different…





This would not be a tragedy…

You dot the i's
and call yourself  
modern day romeo
coming to sweep me off my feet
coming to zap my heart
with lightening bolts
of awareness
awareness of you

Yet you never once
told me a poem
melted my heart with haiku's
or moved me with impossibilities

Never once has it occurred to you
that capulets and montagues don't click
because you always had your way
you're a modern day romeo
full of narcissistic poison
melting off your logic
revealing every chiseled muscle
that you think
will make your Juliets
melt

Oh romeo, romeo
where for art thou?
Show these modern newbies
the ways of articulation
the ways of seducing without the flesh
the ways of making eyes glow

oh romeo,
where for art thou
for the romance
I seek
is long
forgotten

I learned how to love and hate

To never trust fate,

Simply listening to my needs,

Crave for your body, blade and sins.

Hell is part of me, sir,

As Heaven is six feet under,

Not deep as a Well nor so wide as a church door,

Take me and break me to the core!

Madness of you,

Violence and desire piercing threw,

Tasting the Little Death with the tip of those lips,

Bitter sweet travel down the mist.

But remember, prince of Cats,  

You can’t tame me, sick ****** rat,

But if you want me,

Scream me, cry me, torn me…

I am Mercury,

Unstable and addictive,

Get on your knee,

I will end it by killing thee.

My relationship with life was as unhealthy as mine with death
I took them like pills, small doses each time
Never at once, I've always been told not to mix alcohol with antidepressants
Me and life lived like Romeo and Juliet
We only met in secret
Quiet smiles at stupid stuff, subtle and unsound
Death always took me away though
It carved my skin and tied me in red
Little red ribbons
Carved deep into my thighs, the wrist was too predictable
Again i'd try to be taken, my dearest start crossed lover
They'd bubble smiles across my lips
I wonder when they started to feel fake

A Rose by any other name is said to still retain its scent:
A sweet perfume that fills the room to all of our content.
And though this little musing contains poetic form,
When truth is told, I am not sold, for I know there to be thorns.
And if known instead for these pricking fiends
--and not its aromatic petals--
Then perhaps the rose would not be love's flowered vessel.
And the fragrant sweetness we attribute to its structure
Would cease to be a welcomed whiff and the Rose would lose its luster.

Many times have I tried,
Yet I always get rejected.
Yet I still try,
With every effort bigger
Than the last.

Many times have I tried
Yet I never learn
Still, I try.
Looking to be
The Romeo of my Juliet.

Many times have I tried,
Yet nothing comes my way,
Yet still, I try.
I know that one day,
She will come my way,
And we will love each other,
Side by side.