In the land of the wasteful

The flesh is bound to despairing

Unmovable feasts

All dreams dreamt away

In the shallows of sleep

As transient as blood

Orange shades of clarity

In the mind blindly

seeking sun

sincerity and kindnesses

Not those in the land

Of the wasted…

Pain is as hollow and as full as

The hearts of mannequins

When already the broken who pose

Now lets go, passed long ago

Since childhood's end

Not having known

To recognize

Or find oneself

In the beauty of a world

We played pretend.

In the land of waiting

For our sadnesses to end

Waking up alone

After all

In the land of ungrateful men.


(The kind have gone extinct

once again.

The End.)

SAYING WORDS JUST FOR FUN

ISN’T VERY SMART

SAVE YOUR WORDS FOR GOOD

AND SPEAK FROM YOUR HEART


DON’T SPEAK WHATEVER YOU THINK

FOR YOU THINK FASTER THAN YOU TALK

AND FEELINGS ARE HURT IN A BLINK

BECAUSE YOU SAID WHAT YOU THOUGHT


SOMETIMES HONESTY IS A GOOD THING

DON’T THINK YOU SHOULD EVER LIE.

BUT NOT BEING SO OUTSPOKEN

IS SOMETIMES WHAT IS RIGHT.


BUT I’M DONE TALKING NOW

I NEED TO SAY NO MORE

I WILL TAKE MY FINAL BOW

AND WALK AWAY SAYING NO MORE

I'm so **** sick and disgusted of writing every poem about you.
            It brings me close to hatred, but that is an emotion I don't believe
                                      In.

I'm not sure I was meant for this.
I'm sure I existed far too late.
It seems I came to be in the wrong time era,
and I assure you the wrongest wrong place.
I can hold my head high wherever,
but records and dusty movies are my friends,
they make me feel like I'm home at last;
make me wish the time never ends,
but it did and so forth,
I was not meant for here.
The people, too boastful,
with so much less to fear.
The relationships are wasteful,
and different by the day.
The love and optimism is fading out to grey.
I almost pity the people,
and I find their time more tragic,
while the era I love was suppressed by casual bombs,
the era I'm in has lost all their magic...