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 Sep 2014 The Unbeliever
T2m
.....slavery comes in different forms
And we give it different names
There was
The slavery slaves
But now we have;
Computer slaves;
Mental slaves;
Economic slaves;
Fashion slaves;
*** slaves;
Addiction slaves;,
This slaves and that slaves....
For the full poem, please download, listen critically and give me your candid opinion.
http://tindeck.com/users/T2m
 Sep 2014 The Unbeliever
Poetic T
I was paper, a cut out wanting to be more
I cried tears of ink,
I used my finger to dry
They became
Wet,
Moist,
Sodden,
Weaker than they was before.
I could fly,
If the wind caught my frame just right
I could float for eternity
But as the window is shut tight,
So do I float down.
My features are my own
Each day I take
Pencil,
Rubber,
Imagination,
Of who I will be that day,
I was once one of the same paper
Many of us holding hands,
Unity,
Together,
Friendship,
But it doesn't always last,
Some separated themselves,
While others where torn
To old, too carry on,
Just Shredded paper
Eternally flying in the wind,
I am the last of a long line
We were brothers of the same paper
But now they are all gone,
Today I draw a sad face,
Will I let it all go,
Or carry on,
But I am the paper boy
Thinner than the cardboard ones
But I drew a heart,
In permanent marker,
It vibrates the paper
Ripple's,
Beats,
Life,
Is what I am,
I want to be more than this
But for now I am just the paper boy,
Crying tears of ink upon the floor.
Look in to the mirror
Only a little light is lost
But that light isn't lost

It's caged, imprisoned
Sandwiched between
The silver and glass
It claws out, etching
Long black scratches
On a mirror walled
Never moved, hanging

In the dark, late at night
A thump, dark noises
Under the bed, the closet
Behind the closed door
It's not all in your mind

It's that bit of light
Turned insane, trapped
So long in the abyss

That, I see as I gaze
That not light staring
Back at me
A pool of not darkness
Ethereal flesh, claws
Of light, scratching
Like a chalkboard
But on glass

That noise in the night
Reaching from the glass
Out, against the wall

It makes sense, of a sort
To reach out, break the glass
But the wall, it stops
Leaving only a scratch
Only, of course,
During the day

Dust of a hundred mirrors
Not reflecting night
Bumps and thumps
Slamming shut
And jumping
You from bed

But the light is trapped
Imprisoned, locked in
To a flesh not its own
Testing, flexing it's taloned hands
Grasping, lingering
On a silvered surface
Screams caught
Etched on the surface
Of our minds
Winter's storm beating
Browns to grays, hammer
Snows, heavy flakes
As big as fists, fall
Like rain on tin

Winds howl, wolves on the horizon
Singing a moonsong, love sung
Through strong jaws, long fangs
Made for tearing flesh,
And death

Eerily, they pierce the night
Through even the wind
Buffeting the house
Making it creak, bend
To the forces of nature

The hearth fire blazes
Scents of meat bring the wolves
Circling the house, desire
Keeping the dark at bay
A candle the only light

Around the home, wood retreat
Log cabin, built by rough hands
Stone chimney, mortared by the same
High, two stories, strong
Not a house, a home

In the winter, he hunts with the wolves
Pays tribute; he lives in their land
They see, understand, the relationship
Keeping distance, but protecting
On coldest nights, they shelter near

The storm, tonight, lasted days
Softening resolve and infecting
The man sits by the door, bolted
He knows what's come in the night
Unnaturally radiating the cold

The wolves stay close
Inside the treeline,
Even the woods now
Harbor the blight
Too close to home

They howl, nip and bite
At each other, restless, on guard
There will be no sleep tonight
All stay awake afraid to drift
One by one, shutters close

A sliding noise, the wolves ears perk
They've heard it before, many times
But it's unexpected, not at night
Not with danger so near
Look to the Alpha

Light creases still falling snow
The door opens, the man, a rifle
That tool of men, never without
A whistle, gestures, at the Alpha
Intelligence shines in bright eyes

The Alpha, hesitates, looks back
In to the wood, that thing; things
Feeling that something is coming
Back at the man, then at the Beta
Tosses it's head, a decision is made

They go in, positioned now
At windows, one by one
Sometimes two per
They spread out
Nervous, can't run here

The door is barred once more
Lights go out, but not the heat
Ice drips, snow melts on the floors
Heavy fur not needed here
At bay, the creatures of night
I love the feel of your hands
as they travel and caress.

I hate the feel of those hands
as they punish with duress.

I love the sound of your voice
as it whispers such an intimate
word.

I hate the sound of that voice
so full of the venom often
heard.

I love the look in your eyes,
the way they watch me and stare.

I hate the look in those eyes,
so cold, unfeeling...such a
wicked glare.

I HATE that I LOVE you!





By Mercurychyld
Copyrights
This was from a past situation, not recent, in case anyone wondered.
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