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Deep asleep my heart stops beating
I see a chance to break away.
Looking down at myself not breathing,
I feel no sorrow if it ends today.
What’s the point in senseless silence,
in my silence can you hear me pray.
Love like magic is an illusion of science,
as I march into the dark decay.

Fear and darkness in the tears I bleed
as I drift into a permanent sleep.
Like a moth to the flame with burning wings
I fly to the valley of sorrow and grief.
I fall into the mouth of a broken tree
then land on the ledge of a snow-covered leaf.
I heard a voice bellow from below:

Where’s the justice in a land of liars,
a knife is plunged into the innocent soul.
A broken heart bleeds anger and fire
as the pendulum swings, the heart grows cold.


Why am I here this is a terrible mistake,
last thing I remember there was no pain,
I went to sleep but did I wake?
I do remember a porcelain plate,
a porcelain cup, I ate and drank,
was it dinner that night that sealed my fate?
Amatoxin tea with a ricin cake,
what have I done, what did I take?

Sorrow is a shadow over those who are grieving,
begging for a chance to put an end to the pain.
Writhing and thrashing from the venomous stings.
falling in darkness consumed by the flames.
As we suffocate should we fight to keep breathing,
or surrender to sorrow and the dark decay.
JDMaraccini
2013
We are not the voice to elect a king
We are anonymous

I am not the one you want to convene because I question everything
I am just a voice of honesty as degenerates overtake my home
Life in the wake of calamity cast on a pile of bones
It’s the new order of the ages, welcome to the end of days

The beast controls our lives impeding our ability to thrive
induced into a system designed for wealth, power, and lies
A price is paid for not conceding to an affirmation worth repeating
as I join the enlightened ones and wage a massive war
A circularity that deviates from its path is not a circle anymore

They will invoke internal and external threats
then establish many secret prisons
Slowly restricting the freedom of the
Press while surveying ordinary citizens
Chem-trails from government jets
will be dismissed as urban legends
Mandatory vaccinations
designed to lower urban intelligence
Radio-frequency identification chips
mandatory for men, women, and children
Man-made global pandemics
separated for segregated sterilization
Espionage becomes the new word for criticism
And dissent will be the new word for treason
In the name of self-preservation
they will subvert the rule of law

We are broken beyond repair, slaves for all we have
As they divide our families, we ignore another false flag
As history repeats, we are kept under control
But we are not the voices to elect a king

because we are anonymous
© JDMaraccini 2013
the poet is dead
but the pen still got an ink
the poem is in rhythm
but i can't figure out the meaning
where the writer writes to write
and not to be written
where it all starts
and the eye darts
on the ****** white page
deeply savaged
by thoughts in mind
serene and appealing
laughing and dancing
to concretize these thoughts
to make immaterial material
to transcend something spiritual
the poet is dead
yet he is living
not lurking in the dark
but educating
the future in the making
On a cabaret I sat
In the usual corner
Where you could always
Find me.
Misty eyed, sick and tired
Of the world that defines
You and me.
It doesn’t where we met
How we met
When we met.
I’m not even certain
If I’ll ever see you again.
As I stare at the bottom of the bottle
And sip the last drop
Of my whiskey.
The world turned hazy.
I made my way towards the door
And found myself chasing
Another you
Waking up
In someone else’ bed again.
every time I act you speak

giving suggestions based

on perceptions you see

never aware of the entire

interaction.

I attempt not to take it personally

but my instant reaction is anger

and embarrassment, as if I’m wrong.

the words you choose are poor

so I wonder if what you say is really

meant for me or the mirrored you.
sparks of passion
did flint
as the lovers
indulged
in a scorching hot kiss
their tongues
intertwined
with much ardor
which made
their body temperatures
escalate and soar
her sweet scent lured
him to her honey ***
wherein he plucked a chord
on her sensitive spot
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