No this wasn't platonic, white and placid
Made out of crimson cherries and blueberries
It was amplifying, reddish, corrosive as acid
I couldn't move my jaw, or breathe; I choked
Like breathing was an illusion I saw before my eye
No! This didn't go away with time.
It resided, very well groomed in my heart
Oh closely! Listen! Can you hear it beat?
And thump, and pound and pound and pound!
No it wasn't an aimless seed planted perfect
It was an explosive, a bomb you say!
What has this world got against my heart?
It cracked, held still and shattered, by sudden?
No! Well rehearsed plots, undergoing attacks.
And words came bursting out,
And blood flooded my mouth
And specked your charming face .
And I fell...
Into your arms, you ask?
No! Onto the ground..
Onto the solid ground that kept me company.
You left, my dear!
Knowing not! Knowing not!
How my craze is a realm of love
And a touch of reality...
Tina RSH ©
Yes! She was me in a way or two
She suffered from inadequacy
A pink rose who wasn't sky blue
In terms of beauty speaking,
She didn't have enough palms to hold attention
Her eyes no ocean to push a lover through
The girl I killed was petite and serene
khaki trousers ,white woolen pullover
Timeless words, her mouth full of God
She was a gifted, gifted scene in daily deja vu
I never saw her from what she was
I never breathed her breath or saw her cry
Instead, I destroyed her habitat, I cut her mahogany hair
I cut her tender voice through
I killed the girl I knew
In a sense, I've killed myself dozen times more ado
I lost the girl who whispered : I am you.
Tina RSH ©
he's sweet and sensitive
he cares, asking when somethings wrong,
he listens when I answer.
he's talented and passionate
he sits, and patiently teaches,
he offers help when needed
he's not mine
he's with another girl
and i still love
pile of unpleasant thoughts and words blasting through my ears
silent cries were the reason why my sky is still clear
been eating thorns through the years
from all the flowers this mouth spit
when it should be nothing but brier
i've been drowning in cold water
but i still give warm smile to others
been trying to silence the screaming pain
but being broken inside is something i couldn't really feign.
Are they good people?
Good neighbors perhaps,
Willing to lend a helping hand-
Loving family members?
When they are not preaching hatred, I mean,
Waving symbols of terror and oppression;
Scapegoating people who fled oppression
Torture, death or economic hardships
Such as we have never endured..
Or denying the rights of fellow citizens
(who's ancestors were stolen, enslaved, tortured, terrorized and
Stripped of as much dignity and humanity as was possible even years after the promises of freedom and equality.)
And when the parades and riots are over,
Are they good people, nice folk, once more?
In: is taste
Adventure and pain,
Entreat. What a treat
Treat take, speak in slur
Speak high pitched, and poised like verb.
And be a being-
Taste the granules my good sir.
Why in place
Of talk and words
Can leaves appear, and usurp their roles?
Unconnected, perfected in posture
Stand tall as statue in excellent valkra.
Moulding our children
Our wives and women
And silent heathens we hold within.
Effect: brushed with steal wool.
Biases become belief
And still reliant upon it.
"It" is the driving force in our lives
We cant let go or compromise
Always controlling, for joy- for pain
Pulsating fever, in brain
A memory always wiped away-
(Or manufactured, for a brighter day.)
Mercy on us
To cure your new self/served alibi.
(White coat wizard
Bless me I tell...)
Bless me I tell...
All of my,
Feet are sick
From walking these plains
These cold hard pricks
The road is rough
In this city white...
This city so stark white...
Inside, they all seem alive!
But its a waking dream
Glazed over eyes.
No more trash pail
This whole land is a landfill.