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As walked with the devil accept no fear.
Moans of pain affected only by a cowards ear.

Valleys light lit the darkest hour.
Through sands of time became sour.

Tides always turn nevertheless.
For our prolonged hiatus for the best.

The ones known by many I give thanks.
To those few who walk to meet the planks.

Frame by frame pages are torn.
For those are no longer sworn.

Only acquired by many past tense hate.
As we build our bridge for future date.

He conquer sight Long lived by one tale.
See as he will, guided to see no fail.

As his course viewd by multiple eyes.
All known why, in history he lies.

-Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved

I wrote this back in 2010. The first poem I actually ever wrote.
you can't love a woman who writes
maybe you think you'd like to try
but it's really almost impossible
it takes so much time
and people are impatient
but if she writes
then she has dreams
she envisions a life
you may not be able to imagine
she can take her words
& spread them across the night
and make something beautiful
out of almost nothing
you might think that you'd like this
someone who can find the hope
in all that's broken
but really it's so... exhausting
and you'll expect to be some elaborate
part of the book of Her
but if you can't live up to it
please don't try because people
get hurt in the process
and nothing hurts her more
than others suffering
don't use that against her
just let her be who she needs to be
if you want to love her know
that there's a lot of emotion there
a lot of inner struggle
that has nothing to do with you
don't make it about you
because it rarely ever is
sometimes she's gonna be sad
or frustrated or lonely
because that's who she is
but maybe it's best
not to love a woman who writes
I didn't know what heavy was until we sat on my back porch and swapped painful memories like Pokemon cards.

I didn't know I would like rain until you poured your heart into my hands as the storm hit.

I didn't know you until I lost you, but I still like the heavy feeling I get when the rain hits the top of head.
 Apr 2014 Anthony Garcia
Legion
When you see her cry
     you get a rag,
a gentle delicate cloth.
                                        Lovingly grasp her hand
                                               and dab its tip;
                                       dry each tear as they come.
                                                           ­                               And ask each drop
                                                            ­                                   why it'd leave
                                                           ­                               such beautiful eyes.

  If she wishes
to be in the sky,
  tell her to go.
                              Take the sun ransom,
                              and replace its shining
                                    with her own.
                                                            ­          So you can see her every morning
                                                         ­                          and wish for her
                                                                ­                  return each night.

When you see her scars
  both visible and non-
    touch each gently.
                                             And remind her
                                       that each and every hurt
                                            she has survived,
                                                       ­                                 has only made her
                                                                ­                   that much more unique;
                                                         ­                              that much stronger.

  Show her that she
  is a special person
and is worthy of love.
                                     That she deserves the love
                                            she fears to give...
                                            show her so that
                                                            ­                     one day after you're gone
                                                            ­                      she can find the strength
                                                                ­                    to go on without you.

    Tell her that while
she might not be a goddess
far above worldly desires,
                                          that she is amazing,
                                         for just being herself
                                    for being that beautiful girl
                                                            ­                   who thinks herself damaged
                                                         ­                         when in truth she's just
                                                            ­                    a different kind of beautiful.

   And finally, love her.
  Like a boy loves a girl
Till she finally remembers
                                            that that's what she is:
                                          not a scar, not a goddess,
                                             not a star. But a girl.
                                                           ­                         That deserves to be loved.
I want to take an expensive vase
and smash it.
I want to let the shards carve rivers
into my feet and for my ****** footprints
to be a reminder of my daily battles.
Suddenly all of my pet peeves surface
like skeletons resurrecting from the bottom of an ancient lake.
A scream cuts through my throat like a knife.
Three words can describe what I feel.
**Too much noise.
My ears are extremely sensitive to any sound, so it's a daily challenge to tolerate notes that are too flat or too sharp.
some dogs who sleep ay night
must dream of bones
and I remember your bones
in flesh
and best
in that dark green dress
and those high-heeled bright
black shoes,
you always cursed when you drank,
your hair coimng down you
wanted to explode out of
what was holding you:
rotten memories of a
rotten
past, and
you finally got
out
by dying,
leaving me with the
rotten
present;
you've been dead
28 years
yet I remember you
better than any of
the rest;
you were the only one
who understood
the futility of the
arrangement of
life;
all the others were only
displeased with
trivial segments,
carped
nonsensically about
nonsense;
Jane, you were
killed by
knowing too much.
here's a drink
to your bones
that
this dog
still
dreams about.
 Apr 2014 Anthony Garcia
Ianuaria
Losing my Breath
Losing my Mind
This living Death
Shackles that Bind

*Am I alive?
 Apr 2014 Anthony Garcia
Xyns
I'm bleeding out
Almost empty



You spite me
You tried to **** me



Sorry, I should have told you
I'm immortal



I bathe in blood
Drink the souls of those who fail



I created evil
Gave birth to fear



Yet, you think it's simple
To end me here?



Hear that ringing in your head?
That's a sign



Soon enough, I'll have your life
It's mine!



I can't wait until the moment
I steal your breath



It's such a rush
My own ecstasy



Oh, don't even scream
No one cares



Not a single person will hear it
They just don't value life anymore



Haha! Isn't is funny?
It's all because of me!



Now, cry. Beg me!
I want to hear your suffering



It's nothing to be ashamed of
You were misinformed



You didn't know who I was
Now you see



Shh It's all over now
Don't worry dear


After you die
It won't sting
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