Be careful who you trust
Nothing more deadly
Than good intentions
Dipped in blindness
Nothing more dangerous than
Care without wisdom

The evil intent hides within the platitudes of the unaware
It hides like lions
Secretly in long grass
The archetypal wolf
In sheep’s clothing

They prey on your weakness
Their favourite victims
Are the young
The silent assassin
Predators creeping through the night
They Stealthily stalk your soul

The thief slowly strangling you whole
They seek to carve your soul
With knives like butchers
Hidden in friendly gestures

With the soft threads
Of a spider’s lair
They build a sticky prison
Laced with poetic thorn

The worst of all
They ask
Abandoned self
And we will love you more

As weak men
Love to shepherd
The strong
To quench their unconscious jealous

As some people wish to steer your choices
Because you trigger their own
As sme people wish to crush your ambition
Because they buried their own
A conqueror's hidden fear

But let your inner guide shine
Let the Lord God guide us home
To a promised land
Where there's no
Guilt, fear, or shame

As I push back
Not to hate
But to love
Love for self
As my soul whispers
With a silent growl
NO

A deadly stare
That can see into night
I pierce falsehood with soft glare
Not to fright
But to say I am here

Like a leopards spots
The more they rub
The more I shine
As I stand in truth
My real
Authentic self

Let us pretend
That we were nothing
But some casual affair
2 AM ***** dystopia
Just another night
To forget

Let us pretend
That years of silence
Can somehow bend
White lies into
Truth

Let us pretend
For burying regrets
Seems all there's
Left to do

By the Blaze
The Reticent Writer/
Gina Fornataro Mosher
©️2022

When all has ended.
When all has gone.
Burn that *****!

You know the one.

Her evil exposed.
Her evil undone.
All memory faded.
By the blaze is the rub.

Her smoke for the three.
Her ash for them see?
Their trauma is smudge.
By the blaze is the rub.

From the one that was used.
From the youngest, are you.
The one unprotected.
The one you have bruised.

A faction of vipers.
Of sickness, insane.
You would not imagine the evil they lay.
Through smiles and grooming their base reflects through.

The youngest now older
Will say this for you.

Goodbye to the den.
Goodbye to its mirrors.
Goodbye says the youngest.
Goodbye to its air.

As the fire is started.
In more than the thing.
Her spirit unchained,
the trauma now clean.

No more says the youngest.
No more is her name.
No chaff in her spirit is left for this thing.

By the blaze is the rub.
The rub is now clean.













#Writings-From-Within

I look into the mirror
That’s
Foggy and blurred,

And wrap myself around
The shape
I see in return.

Put a face to name,
And name to face,

Turn my back and suddenly,
That’s

Not

The

Case?

Watching from afar
As another cries,

Helpless to do anything but
Keep it inside

And escape the mess
that’s only mine,
Navigate the maze
Inside their mind.

Holding out a hand I could never take,
slamming on a door that I couldn’t

Break,

But now that you’re
holding out
the key to

me,

One can finally
See—


Past the

mirror

Image.

You never said more than ten words to me                                                               ­                                                      and  that's just a **** tragedy                                                     ­                   You had a hard time showing your love                                                      made  me feel not good enough                                                           ­   You  never said I am proud of you                                                          so  I  stopped trying to prove  it to  you                                                          ­  You  ignored me most of my life                                                             ­      and that cut me like a knife                                                            ­       Old woman take a look at me                                                               ­   I'm  more than you'll ever be                                                               ­          Now I look at you with pity                                                             ­        I  didn't need you to validate me

I can’t keep up with my muse’s ****
My write hand is dragging, like a catcher’s mitt
In such a hurry, trying to catch everything
You never know, my muse may make me sing

Words abound, no truth in any I’ve found
Still the words, they circle back around
Did they find my roots, am I buried that deep
The cold, dark ground, holds my secrets to keep

Wait just a minute muse, you’re going too fast
You have to slow down to make the pages last
Capture my heart, blurred between the lines
Uncover my soul, it’s inside these rhymes

Commoners' indignant?
Youth disinherited?
Ha. Nay.

Intellectuals disrespected.
Visionaries neglected.
Aye.

Yous who don't learn,
Refusin' to see eye-to-eye.
You slight genius, Truth.
Ay;

Afraid to even say hi -
Much less engage in honest, forthright conversation.
Rely on your superstitious,
Your hope is to pray
For ignorance like arrogance be your prey.

Lambs what be foul predators
Fat on the blood of their own ewes.
Singin',

"We know not what we do!
We know not what we do!"

Yet, you do so willfully.

Soon-to-be-nothings;
Absence, as nothingness, will be your eternity.

For the unworthy are rejected, universally.

Life is a placebo.
Endless obstacles,
difficulties to overcome.
Eyes set on goals
we'd thought we'd achieve
even if it drained us
of all but an inkling
of hope.
Lies on parchment
the truth of life,
and I am but a quotation,
repeating words of false hope
so others can believe
we don't all die
wishing to amend
even one
mistake.

Gather around me, point and laugh,
Watch me dance with a broken half.
How easy pain can be disguised—
Just hide your face, then mask the mask.

Come and try to comprehend
How a broken leg pretends
To find footing amidst torment,
Beneath the stares of a thousand eyes

Everyone has a broken half—
Half hearts, half brains, half short-stretched hands.
Try as you may to refuse and defend
Your half pride and half lies and their
Sickening stench.

Never thought a man could confess,
Or even have the courage to explain himself,
How bad and awful can be dismay,
Or even realize his closing end.

Instead, we stumble around and shout—
To forget it all, we shout loud and proud.
And if we still hear whispers of reason,
Our throats are ready to smother it out.