You and I grew
up by the outskirts
of their society, with no other
choice, but to observe…

We pretended to hide
from a cruel
and indifferent world,
that was never looking
for us to begin with.

Turbulently, we grew
into erratic teenagers,
pillaging our world
with a vengeance.
My youthful rage dulled
with the waning of age, but
you never ceased to seethe.

I stumble by a lake
to find you there;
flinging pebbles to break
the surface, distorting
the reflection of yourself
you’ve never wanted to see.
In the settled water I greeted the
uncertain face, solemn as I was
to share a likeness…
And hesitantly I asked you
what brought you here.

We both said nothing
(we knew you had nowhere else to go)
All we could tell the world
they stole from our tongues;
The reflected face distanced her glance
from you, an aloof and bitter woman
of the rest of society,
and beyond your bent knees
the water had never settled,
revealing cryptic shards
of a jigsaw puzzle face.

Yet in that water I had drowned
a part of myself;
my animosity, and pride
against a mechanical world
that never pitied me…
Your vengeful heart
stayed forever smoldering,
never forgiving a careless god
that let you suffer, blinded
by the walls surrounding
your lesser world.

Cleared of truth and history,
By my insecurity,
Left here with no heart to show,
Zoomed out from all that I know,

Drained of hope and energy,
By their animosity,
Left here with no path to see,
Groomed for what I cannot be,

Scared of life and destiny,
By my own humanity,
Left here with no love to give,
Doomed to die before I live.

You were once the sun
my world revolved around
but you left me shunned
and my orbit spiraled down

I suppose things wont transpire
the way I wish they had
and what I most desire
has slipped beyond my hands

So I will love you from afar
the way I always have
Even a universe apart
I just hope you know that

Animosity has faded
although disappointment still remains
I would rather feel this way
than replace it all with hate

All I put at stake
surpassed this mortal coil
but I'll leave it up to fate
to determine what is foiled

Nobody teaches you how to react when you are woken up by the people you live with as they are screaming obscenities at each other.
Nobody teaches you how to defend your mom against the one she chose to marry and his demeaning words, full of hatred and anger.
Nobody teaches you how to tell the phone operator what is happening while also trying to stop the tears that continue to pour from your already burning eyes.
Nobody teaches you how to pry a 45 year old from a 14 year old or how to stay safe until the police arrive at your house.
Nobody teaches you how to convince your brother to come back inside after running away into the cold, December winds in order to protect himself.
Nobody teaches you how to quickly and efficiently pack your belongings into three small bags when your home life escalates from bad to worse to hell-on-earth.
Nobody teaches you how to tell your friends that you will not be coming back to school.
And nobody teaches you how to survive when you are no longer welcome to live at the place you once called home.

Nobody taught me how to react when I was woken up by the people I lived with as they were screaming obscenities at each other.
I was not aware that standing outside my bedroom door – with every limb of my body cemented into place and stricken with fear, unable to move or even breathe, let alone defuse the situation – was worthy of being verbally attacked.
I did not know what to do when actions were required.

Nobody taught me how to defend my mom against the one she chose to marry and his demeaning words, full of hatred and anger.
I could not think of the right words to say to put an end to
the hysteria in which my mom was continuously put down and verbally spat upon.
I could not think of the right steps to take to ensure she would no longer fall victim to words that did not accurately describe her worth.
I did not know how to defend my own mother.

Nobody taught me how to tell the phone operator what was happening while also trying to stop the tears that continued to pour from my already burning eyes.
I did not know how to breathe properly - in and out, in and out - or how to put my words into coherent sentences or how to listen to what I was being told from the operator and my mom and the cacophony of other voices that were piercing my ears with every uttered sound or how to recall my name, age, and address.
I did not know how to make a simple phone call.

Nobody taught me how to pry a 45 year old from a 14 year old or how to stay safe until the police arrived at my house.
I never before had to witness the strength that adrenaline causes a scrawny, teenage boy to possess.
I never before had to witness the deranged sight of a pair of eyes when they are locked onto your only brother, waiting and wanting to hurt him in more ways than one.
I never before had to witness and endure the way in which seconds seem to last hours when waiting for the police to bring safety and an end to the nightmare that had become real life.
I did not know how to escape the paralyzing effect of pure, unfathomable fear.

Nobody taught me how to convince my brother to come back inside after running away into the cold, December winds in order to protect himself.
I did not realize that sometimes letting my younger brother run away from home is the best thing to do.
I did not realize that sometimes the police agree that you should not chase after kids who run away.
I did not realize that sometimes he would rather be cold than bruised.
I did not know how fast a person could run when he is scared.

Nobody taught me how to quickly and efficiently pack my belongings into three small bags when my home life escalated from bad to worse to hell-on-earth.
I could not differentiate between what items were wants and what items were needs, what items I needed to live and what items I needed to survive.
I could not differentiate between the voice of the police telling me to “hurry up” and the voice in my head telling me “you aren't going fast enough.”
I did not know how to move out.

Nobody taught me how to tell my friends that I will not be coming back to school.
I cannot absorb the questions that I am relentlessly asked: Yes, I am okay; No, I don't know what's going to happen; Maybe I will be able finish out the week.
I cannot absorb the look of disbelief and confusion in the eyes of my closest friends and even those who I can only call acquaintances.
I do not know how to leave my friends.

Nobody is teaching me how to survive since I am no longer welcome to live at the place I once called home.
I was not aware how quickly feelings can, and do, change from acceptance to rejection.
I could not think of what was going through my mom's head as she and her children were mercilessly attacked with both sentences and strength.
I did not know how to talk to the 9-1-1 dispatcher when my words were so desperately needed.
I never before had to witness such deep animosity within one household.
I did not realize that sometimes words hurt just as much as sticks and stones.
I could not differentiate between the sounds of stomping feet and the sounds of police banging on the door.
I cannot absorb the fact that I am not allowed to go back to the place I lived for four years.
*I do not know what to do.

The terrible truth is...
I love that I can run away!
That I can escape into this world...
Where everything is anything I want it to be.


Where you are just a figment of my imagination.
And, I can make you so much sweeter.
And there is no negativity,
no melancholy drama.

Here the animated beauty I see,
lies within everything, even you.
I can twist your evil words into a sweet sweet song ringing in my head.
The animosity in the room is not palpable,
and there is only a longing to dance in rhythm.

Oh I love this land of make believe!
Where just a word turns into a constant outflow.
Or a solitude thought of fantasy,
becomes an intriguing and engulfing page.

I love the traffic jam in my head,
just waiting to become permanent ink.
Words strung together never to be taken back,
to just linger in the world....
waiting for someone to cherish them.

To open eyes and minds....
To inspire and ignite imagination and individuality!
To provide an escape for you and them...
To provide a mental island for myself.

Inside my blissful hideaway..
Everything is so comfortable!
No rules to follow, no expectations to meet.
Complete freedom.*
Oh how I do love it here.....

Oh, this is why I hate love!
How I used to moon over it;
shape it and craft it and run after it
in my brambles,
how I used to indulge it in my *****
protect it from any uncivil desecration
cherish it for its wilfulness
relish it for its greed;
how I tainted my heart with its fake scent!
It just dawneth on me!
Oh how I fervently remembereth the scene; the very afternoon scene, before me:
I was heaving my dull steps against the sheepish grounds;
so peaceful in their breezy slumbers;
unlike the busy grass afield!
their dainty colours blackened by the whirring clouds from afar.
Hung cozily amongst the sky, whose childishness wasth adjourned by
the sleeping rain!
Oh but it was none yet coldeth but temperate;
when his moorish figure, blent into the naturalness of the afternoonth;
retreated into the lingering scene,
swiftly and lightly as the chirruping birdth aloft,
as if no anguish was within reach,
as wildly glistening as the mirth of the old den!
How my soul warmed towards the sight of him,
and on he went to relate his selfish story.
How I celebrated it - its giddy, gullible outset!
How I endorse its unknowing innocence!
How I adorned it with my passion!
His reclamation proceeded,
I was but astounded to hark to the rest;
into it he amorously poured the account of a bizarre creature;
namely a stranger;
invariably a woman!
How insolent!
He named her his love;
he waveth his moronic praise at hers;
at her charm, andth not mineth!
I was spurned, my heart was churned;
despite my stranded efforts to keep my pair of
relenting eyes
unblinking;
I steadied my legs, I was more than ready to
bounce and go
sway myself away from this gloomy tragedy
as before me the story undesired unfolded:
my love was repressed, my heart was
bludgeoned, heartily bludgeoned,
and I was silenced; could no longer feelth the tinges of blood
in my latent veins.
He hath slaughtered my peace!
My inner visions, hopes, and dreams!
I hath lost all of which!
I hath lost my shrieks; I could not voice my despair;
yet I could not utter my grief!
I was cursed and condemned;
my soul was appallingly dishonored;
my entirety is for lifelong anger,
desolation, ignominy and utmost desperation!
My crossness against the Creator arose,
like a wave of torment,
a surge of unbecomingth animosity,
as to no matter how I suppressed it unthinkingly,
all ended in vain:
My stern heart shan't ever melt to love again.
Oh my love, my love,
my princeth, my deviousth prince,
the only one I was so ardently fond of
how could thou deepen my misery?
How could thou ****** my sweetest virginal affection
in the midst of my isolation?
Like the sultry willows
whose memories unshaken, unbitten in the most
melodious, but pallid from the heath
in this musty, salubrious air
my blooming flowers hath died
I am brokeneth, I am torn!
I am writhing in my vainness,
my foolish longing, unmissed and unsung by the dandy branches aboveth
Dancing in my own blueness, weariness that is both livid
and unforgiving
scared by the heartless world
in the course of this barren winter.
Winter with no whiteness;
winter unholy and fulleth of diminutive, evil suffrage.
How ungodly!
I am raked into pieces;
and this is what remains.
This is my misery; oh how I could not riseth above the misery itself!
This is my solemn admonition,
this is my fate!
I have no right to love,
to embrace and to be embraced,
and from this day on I wanth but to dismiss my love;
onto my heart was bestowed not serene affection but intelligence;
and intellect is far better regarded than love!
How sully, narrow, and vicious love is!
How unimportant it is in the eyes of glory,
and the sea of fictitious admiration.
I quit the monstrousness of yon outer devastation;
I take hold of my pen,
and swim deeper into my whining words, again.

"granday"

its not a *******
twang,
like a rubber band loosened up,
you're like a white sheet
with absolutely no
wrinkles no
lint no
culture.

its not a droop of letters,
like the syllables are carrying old bathwater
on hunched spines;

you sound like dusty paper
left on the shelf too long.

its
"grande"
poner un verano en tus palabras.
put some summer into your words.

fill your mouth with mid-august sweat
and belt it out like a pistol,
bullets ripping the fabric of blue
sky.
you are a flame in snow,
your tongue is supposed to be dancing on the top of your mouth
when you say it,

"grande"
roll your 'r's like you would to tamales in
corn flour,
like you would your body in mud
carpeting every inch of your soul in dark, crusted
veneer,
stuck between your toes.

your tongue is supposed to be ***.
exotic chocolate,
french rain.

your tongue is supposed to be like a wild motorboat upon
the raging ocean,
hitting the 'r's with savage animosity
                                                    "g­-rrrrrrrr-ande"
none of these
"grandays"
words like plummeting wrinkles
under tired eyes, your lips like dead fish floating
shallow and flaccid
in lukewarm
soup.
like rotting fruit left out too long,  
squashed, useless, a waste.

do not fill your mouth with
mierda,
****
poner un verano en tus palabras.
put some summer into your words.

If the world was a metaphor,
we would manicure our animosity.
you’d file it down,
and once a week I’d paint it--
that way it’d always be clean.

B** Bitter words are spilled across the page
I  Inciting an equally bitter response
T Taking us to places we don't want to be
C Causing animosity amongst once close friends
H Hate and vitriol spreading like a foul pestilence
I  Ignorance taking the place of understanding
N No more the poetic repartee of friends
G Gone now are the beautiful days

I loved you
every single day
especially those nights
you ******
other men
You’re better than me
but you kept coming
back for more

indeed shakespeare, the world's a stage, but give me
the stage and not the world, give me the actor's proper
compass to define himself in the stage without
the onslaught that bothered nietzsche: imagine speaking
for the entire humanity. i have one for one, where the
"actor" owns the stage, but cares little for the world
in which things are acted according to heidegger's da sein.

inside a room sits a man, reading aloud canto xxxviii,
taking in the funny parts... with ezra's specified decor
of the trilling r, the lip numbing vibrating of m and half m (n),
just to don the evening jacket pipe and waistcoat...
all the way from idaho... losing the accent of course...
like me from the backside of poland, although nearby
the signing of the treaty of *lublin (1569)...
so there he is, sitting like a crow with a crown,
or a crown that's a crow, hunched, nonetheless eager to enjoin
with the surrounding choirs...
in the room händel's tecum principium (psalm 110) -
if händel never bothered to expatriate to
england... we'd only be left with elgar and
vaughan williams as the sole exports... what shame...
here's to the fireworks! in the room this scene... but outside
a first movement of ηoλιδες by franck...
so indeed the voodoo ****** needed for the giggle
from canto xxxviii (contrary
to what was suggested, and the suggestion
was that i could enjoy music & poetry
as much as i am now with a woman,
to prevent the waterfall from mt. ****,
the boredom, the scaly crocodile the
erasing ink of octopi... all that with a hope
for censored ****... and children and the absence
of private thinking... to appreciate it once is
not enough... and with woman of choice
only one account holds sway... tear jerker at the opera
and furthering this withstanding joy at beauty...
perhaps knowledgeable with an operatic spouse,
but no step further... in that great foundation
of life and grey matter... a tier below the merchant...
the buyer... the exchange of rotten deeds for
glistening goods - with woman the scarcity of
fed inhibitions expressed in the pure inhibitions
of sentencing blissfully haloed loneliness
into the resounding exchange of thought & voice
(esp. of someone else, once written);
no, we dare not invite profanity of such
crescendos as woman is capable of to replace
the ecstasy of the violins harps and trombones...
for indeed with a woman i'd be chained to
hear the worsened sense of symphony...
and more angina or animosity for what i prize
are relevant coordinates of executed choice
that leave no wall of my vicinity cold and
ghostly as if a dialogue with someone
was necessary; but to the poignancy of the canto:
1. the cigar-makers automation requiring recitation
    to combat the capitalistic rat infestation,
    known as mechanisation / automation,
    according to dexter kimball,
2. because of a louse in berlin
    and a greasy basturd in austria
    by name francios guiseppe.
3. on account of bizschniz relations.
4. and schlossmann suggested that i stay in vienna
    as stool-pigeon against the anschluss
    because the austrians needed a buddha
5. der im baluba das gewitter gemacht hat...
6. kosouth (ku' shoot)

and i end with that... there's more but i cannot
spare not inviting this gentleman in smockings
who said:
i say... didn't the english forgo the use of
other europeans the necessary stressors of accent
to singular letters rather than words
or word compounding, all cockney ****-side-up?
i dare say those french bass tarts
put the ' over the e, and the papa turds on top
of the o... while our kin too to sharpening and shortening
things... taking 'em fo' d' fool...
so if there's direct correlation, my german compatriot
said... itz zys: diacritic of french with o and le v. la
is the english of would not with wouldn't.
now i think the modern fictional hannibal
has a mirror proper... without the mexican doctor (
cannibal etc.) but with this villager from idaho,
making it big in london and paris...
as all "little" villager folk do...
given there's less cosmopolitan conversation about
among the slapstick nobility humour scheming
and socialite consciousness with the odd dry martini -
given there's less of all that, where you can
go to sleep at 9pm, and wake with the roosters at 5am
(in summer), milk the cow, feed the hens, pluck an organic
tomato... and get excite about village traffic - tumble weeds
speeding, ol' mcdonald wrote a poem:
a tad bit cornish, nonetheless, the sort of nourishment
that redeems.

You can feel...

...abandoned

abandonment

acceptance

adoration

affection

aggravated

aggravation

aggravating

agitated

aggressive

aggressiveness

alert

amazed

ambitious

amused

amusing

anger

angry

animosity

annoyed

anticipation

anxiousness

appreciative

ap­prehensive

ardent

aroused

ashamed

astonished

attraction (******)

attraction (intellectual)

attraction (spiritual)

attraction (general)

attraction (negative)

attraction  (taboo)

attraction (moral)

awed

betrayed

bewildered

bitter

bliss

blue

boastfu­l

bored

breathless

bubbly

calamitous

calm

camaraderie

caut­ious

cheerful

cocky

cold

collected

comfortable

compassionat­e

concerned

confident

confused

contempt

content

courageous
­
cowardly

crafty

cranky

crazy

cruelty

crummy

crushed

curio­us

cynic

dark

dejected

delighted

delirious

denial

detest

­depression

desire

despair

determined

devastated

disappointed

discouraged

dis­gust

disheartened

dismal

dispirited

distracted

distressed

*****

down

dreadful

dreary

eager

ecstatic

emb­arrassed

empathic

emptiness

enchanted

enigmatic

enlightened
­
enraged

enthralled

enthusiastic

envy

euphoric

excited

exha­usted

expectation

exuberance

fascinated

fear

flabbergasted

­fight-or-flight

foolish

frazzled

frustrated

fulfillment

furi­ous

gay

giddy

gleeful

gloomy

goofy

grateful

gratified

gre­edy

grief

grouchy

grudging

guilty

happy

hate

heartbroken

­homesick

hopeful

hopeless

horrified

hostile

humiliated

humored

hurt

hyper

hysterical

indignation

infatuation

infuriated

inner peace

innocent

insanity

insecure

insecure

inspired

interest

intimidated

invidious

irate

irritability

irritate­d

jaded

jealousy

joy

jubilant

kind

lazy

left out

liberated

lively

loathsome

lonely

longing

love

lovesic­k

loyal

lust

mad

mean

melancholic

mellow

mercy

merry

mil­dness

miserable

morbid

mourning

needed

needy

nervous

obsce­ne

obsessed

offended

optimistic

outraged

overwhelmed

pacifi­ed

pain

panicky

paranoia

passion

pathetic

peaceful

perturb­ation

pessimistic

petrified

pity

playful

pleased

pleasure

posses­sive

pride

provoked

proud

puzzled

rage

regretful

relief

r­emorse

resentment

resignation

resolved

sadness

satisfied

sc­ared

Schadenfreude

scorn

selfish

sensual

sensitive

****

sh­ame

sheepish

shocked

shy

sincerity

solemn

somber

sorrow

s­orry

spirited

stressed

strong

submissive

superior

surprised­

sweet

sympathetic

temperamental

tense

terrified

threatened­

thrilled

tired

tranquil

troubled

trust

tormented

uncertai­nty

uneasiness

unhappy

upset

vengeful

vicious

warm

weary

­worn-out

worried

worthless

wrathful

yearning

yawny

zesty

z­eel

Disaster is ugly and disgusting
Causing misery and chaos screaming
Out of dull, green rises singing
Beauty from destruction
I become one with the broken tons
We have animosity sprouting
The generation of new beginnings
We are the solution
Problem solving through chaos impact
We are problematic fact
We are the next impact
A world accepting of human beings
We can be something

World is full of vultures and hounds
Meanest go on groundless grounds
Vicious cross a place out of bounds
Human faces have snake like sounds

Women follow Satan to his ***** den
Vicious circles include when all men
******* intentions accompany then
Their fates are already written by pen

I can not forget that ***** and *****
Which proved to be like a real witch
Virtue is solace vice ,a ditch after ditch
Let me take her on to switch to enrich

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

An acolyte of White Chapel, I walk the streets at night,

I strut the dark to feed my lust, my mildly selfish plight.

Don’t mistake me for insane, my demonic thoughts are clear,

Come to me my little *****, I show you why I’m revered.

-

I walk behind, step by step,

As I stalk my little coquette

she leaves the brothel, all dressed up,

Awaiting young gentleman to sup,

I’ve chosen this one for my knife,

It calmly grins to end her life.

-

Her caller leaves with no tip to spare,

Her saddened face hidden by her hair,

I follow her back until an alley,

The hatred then shall take my lead.

-

Twenty feet there from the door,

I felt her heart drop to the floor,

As I choked the breath out of her lungs,

I saw the sadness from being so close to home.

-

Upon my shoulder, I take her back

To the venue of my attack

I sneak through the darkest paths,

Until my home, we reach at last.

-

And at this part in my confession

I warn of the graphic, due to depression.

-

Upon my medical table she lay,

My scalpel awaits the ****** flay,

A little anesthetic, here and there,

Keeps her awake but still and fair.

-

She cannot scream but her eyes do widen

Though to be fair, my form does frighten,

When I lay my other instruments out,

Of leaving alive, I see her doubt.

-

“To business then my dear, my dear.”

Out of one eye, I spy a tear.

-

Because of paralysis I need no restraints,

She remains still, her heart remains faint,

I start with the kneecaps, just in case,

She breaks free of the spell, so I needn’t chase.

-

I place them upon my “excess” table

And then her legs I begin to cradle,

I take then every one of her toes,

And place them in a neat little row.

-

I take my time stemming the blood,

So death doesn’t come misunderstood,

Also that she may not pass out,

She remains conscious and without clout.

-

“My Sweet,

I cherish the sorrow I see in you eyes,

I enshrine the abhorrence of love I’ve revised,

acrimonious am I, animosity guides me,

I’ll **** everything you’ve ever believed.”

-

I move up onto her thighs,

Upon the blade, the sanguine does shine,

I split each side to sew again,

Except the muscle taken from within.

-

I stitch her fingers there together,

I rip out the nails to put on a tether,

Her arms have no concern to me,

Lest I graze an artery.

-

And  my favourite, the chest cavity,

I’ll make it a shrine to my depravity

Now is the point where time is a factor,

As I do this, she will die faster.

-

I hammer away with the sternum-splitter,

It cracks and cracks, her heart does flutter,

I eagle the ribcage as she stares in horror,

The sound of my laughter begins to adore her.

-

Her organs gaze up at me in fright,

I begin extracting in delight,

She looks up, looks for her God,

But he is absent, he is a fraud.

-

I witness the beating grow faster,

She is in shock, this could be disaster,

A little more solution for the pain,

But just enough so that she remains.

-

I slowly take a needle and puncture the left lung

Her other grows violent when its marriage is undone,

I extract her spleen and then,

Her heart does pump, her blood thickens.

-

Involuntary muscles in her lips tighten,

I barely catch it with her lips stitched in,

Her eyes, how they wonder everywhere,

Searching for some thing somewhere.

-

I see in them, she questions me,

‘Why have you forsaken me?’

Darling, I think that is not the question

I did this of my own suggestion,

-

You may ask why I left her womanhood alone,

Her ******* and ***** no violence shown,

To that, I answer you now and simply,

Frivolous things such as *** do not concern me.

-

You may ask why and where she may be found,

But you won’t find her, though don’t let that cloud

Your idea of me or what lies inside,

Don’t worry however, I allowed her to die,

After I had taken her precious heart,

She likely could’ve lived half a minute to start,

But at about second “fifteen”,

I cut her throat ever so gently,

She gurgled so quietly, ever somber,

I’m sure she would’ve thanked me regardless,

But in the end I don’t feel I’ve robbed a father,

After all, what father has a ***** of a daughter?

-

You will never catch me, I have no motive,

Other than sport, and a mind supported,

With thoughts of these wretched street walkers,

May they all be mindful they’ve gained a stalker,

Perhaps one day you may of me learn,

A clean city and plain interest, is all I yearn.

I march alone,
a flaming candle,
clasped within shaky hands,
as I travel the rocky path,
of the darkest hour,
searching for my lost companion.

The intensity of the winds,
blow with invisible ferocity,
attempting to extingiush,
my only source of light,
in the obscurity of this journey,
to find what is no longer mine.

The cluttered valley of stones,
sporadic and jagged,
engenders my feet to lose,
their sight to guide me,
as a shadow blinds them,
stumbling with the challenge,
of yet another obstacle.

Raindrops stain my skin,
tingling through my core,
like an icy kiss of death,
burning my torso.

An intangible blazing arrow,
splicing through the hearth,
of my being,
trembling with fatigue,
as I fall to my knees.

Despite the weakness,
of my quivering limbs,
I now stand upon two feet,
unwavering in the harsh atmosphere,
engulfing my petite frame,
as I glance in all directions,
to behold what I have lost.

Unfortunately I shall never reach,
the one I once yearned,
to travel the vast lands with,
as our destinies collide,
but betrayal leaps from a canister,
opened by the hands,
of a ***** friend choosing to become,
my nememsis,
as a vile murky sludge bursts out,
of the jar.

Putrid animosity creeps out,
spreading upon my trusting soul,
like the black plague,
relentless with thorns of corruption,
leaving me to make no other choice.

The toxic Substance,
leaves me with a distaste,
burdened at the loss,
of what I seek;
Nausea sweeps across my bridge,
of loyalty,
wishing abandonment,
is not the lyrics,
I must sing to remain,
in the palms of safety.

Loooking behind me is not an option,
fleeing to an unexpected direction,
a turn resulting in a shift,
of purpose in my investigation,
of life beyond the rudiments,
I thought to be the focus,
guiding me.

Feelings of Isolation,
begin to blossom,
until I realize my possession,
of the lit candle,
my fingers cling to,
restoring balance.

As I lift my gaze,
away from the  dancling flames,
of fire,
I feel the desire,
to trust my intuition,
always drifting through,
the entirety of my chimerical mind.

Instincts take over me,
driving meto paint,
the world carrying the fruits,
of a visually compelling existence,
as I encounter the joys,
of a voice entertaining my ears,
the fiery memories,
emblazoning a scuplture,
moving me to create new stories,
sniffing the tantalizing aroma,
of Wild roses,
conjuring a persona,
bravely foolish enough to chance,
the tide Swirling,
with a sea of opportunities.

They tell us to accept the skin we're in,
But how can I accept what society makes feel like a sin?
Gross to be bigger than a size one or two,
Does that sound realistic? Not to me, to you?
Purged souls on countless carbs of animosity,
The taste of self hate rich and buttery.
Magazines don't help, if only looks could ****,
Girls are starving and dying, I promise you not just for the thrill.
Hated and disgusted by their very own reflection,
Don't try and stop them it's a battle you'll never win.
Only bones can make them happy,
White porcelain devils flush their dignity gladly.
True selves lost with every vigorous flush,
The feeling so high, their own personal rush.
With every single flush they soon fade away,
Ask me how I know,
I was once that way.

I try to see my oddessey,
but obviously the velocity
of animosity is a monstrosity...

.

Everytime I hotwired reality

I took a bite out of animosity


I followed all the wrong examples

Danced to the music I didn't know

I never knew the new ground

Before it brought me down


In the end we all dance to the music alone

Twirling until we are nowhere to be found



. . . . dancing our sorrow away . . . .


. . . . all the dying years enthused . . . .


. . . .  in the end keep the fire burning
         in your eyes . . . .


. . . . until the light in you reaches the sky . . . .

I hate her so much
Ruined after this torture
Cuts clinging to
My bed sheets
As I lie here
With Blistered eyes
Letting her win...
I'd rather die
She will not get the best of me
As I soak my cheeks
With tears that don't belong to her
I am not her prisoner
Drops that I own
They come from
Loathing my identity
I swim deep in my own animosity
Wishing I didn't exist

© Jl 2016

You love your earthly endeavors
Forgetting what is really dear..
As your reflection reflected in the mirror
Projection...fragile ego and fear..

You tried to be strong for yourself
Bearing the burden you've left..
Scarred your flesh with pride and greed
Never sought for atonement with the coldness you've felt...

You tried to be weak for their empathy..
As you cage your soul with lies you knew
Leaving nothing but animosity..
To you and everyone around you.

We've prayed for you to change
Still your pride prevailed..
For only you, yourself could help you
And not the temporal fancies you hail..

Stop living to love and start loving to live
Stop giving it out and start taking it in.

The pressure from the air crackles with ferocity
Stand up and breathe deep from the animosity.

Humanity is frail and weak
Act like a leaf and fall free from the tree.

float in the wind, until the fall comes
and after the fall
get right back up.

Nothing is sweeter than that which is earned
Nothing cuts deeper than the pen or the sword.

The weapon you choose, it defines who you are
So slice up the paper or write something down
the action you choose, will build up your ground

You told me I'm a better than I give myself credit for being
But, how can I believe you, when you don't believe in yourself
I have tried to take your advice, but my animosity keeps breaking through
This animosity of mine will never allow for me to get close to anyone
I will always push away at the faintest hint of happiness
That is why I am not good for you, anguish is all I allow
I wish that I was deserving or worthy but I am not
You have your own demons, you do not need my burden
My burden is my own to bare, alone to suffer
Possibly when this all subsides there will be a chance for me
Unfortunately I have difficulty believing that I can change
I do not believe that I will ever allow myself to get close
I will forever limit myself to a life of obscurity, just me and my insecurities
Too afraid to let you in, let you in to the labyrinth that is me
My only companion, my only comfort, knowing that will never change
Knowing, never fearing anyone using my thoughts against me

A flourishing field of flowers strides across the teeming landscape
Weaving wind currents disperse fallen leaves; birds soar above the bellowing howls of Zephyr
The meadow is illuminated identical to the shining stars seen overhead
Such a place as this can’t be described merely in words

To understand the field, one must hear its echoing melody
Can you hear its blissful humming in the crisp night air?
Can you hear the birds serenading every dawn? Can you hear them whistling lullabies every dusk?
Can you hear Gaia’s song? So splendid, you not only hear it but can taste its saccharine stanzas?

To know the field, one must feel its warmth and bask in its radiance
Can you feel the firm grasp of the Sun's rays? Can you tell it won’t ever let go of you? Do you care?
Can you feel the field’s invigorating warmth enticing you?
Can you feel it take away your gloomy desolation? Can you feel it take away your stress and doubts?

To appreciate the field, one must see its abundant life
Can you see the trees growing in peace as they amass their armies yet carry no animosity and strife?
Can you see the pure, unpolluted streams that flow forever as if in a perpetual race against Father Time?
Can you see the Nightingale in her tree composing? Can you see the other as he anticipates her words?

To fathom the field’s perfection you must find it yourself. “Where is this field? Someone must know”
It’s in a place that must be found on your own. There’s only one place where it could begin to grow
The field lies where anyone can find it but it’s also a place where many will never find its mark
The paradise you seek can only be found deep in your heart, after you let Love cultivate the Dark

For one, it could be destined
How we met till we wed
It is now revealed, your plan which you kept clandestine
Left me bleeding profusely alone on my bed

It is clear it is revenge you were after
Like a knife piercing through my heart
Without empathy, you watched and let me suffer
Animosity grew, at a gallop we drifted apart

For the other, a beautiful connection was forged
Immersed into each other, our vision was blurred
An intimate ride of heat and passion, her heart was gorged
Till one day, reality sank in and a voice whispered addiction was the word

Her heart was still yearning
For the true feelings that was left behind
Patiently counted the months and days, she was still waiting
Only to realize, her unconditional love was declined

Like faded photographs with lines and creases
The precious moments remained etched vividly in her memory
Feeling her heart break into a million pieces
While her tears flow, praying hard HE will end her misery

As time goes on
humans adapt in many different ways
as all living things do.
We grow intellectually, emotionally, spiritually
but more often than not
fears, doubts, insecurities, envies run rampant in our expanding minds.

Toxicity, too, develops
rippling out, engulfing anyone near in a flame of hate
charring them beyond recognition.
Adapting, hand in hand with survival, dictates we raise walls
barriers to protect ourselves
if only to withstand even more punishment, then repeat the cycle.

But the thirst for animosity
has to be quenched, leading to rampant searches for more and more
ways to hurt each other.
A propensity for cruelness overrides any potential
at reformation, reconciliation
or any sort of repairing all the tethers that have eroded away with vigor.

admiration
seems to be one of our weakest
qualities
not able to see the love in the rays
the sun sets our way
or the whispers that insist the universe
cares about us each
in our own way
in the middle of the night
when the moon watches over us
as we shutter subtle fragile cries in our sleep
that our lips read "why did you do this to me?"

we come from ingrown trees
compacted of broken branches glued
together with moss
and we plant ourselves on the tops of hills
that way when our lovers finally do come
back (because ninety percent of the time
we're dead sure they will)
we can watch the sun set aside the beautiful
home where the sounds of our hearts
seem to beat
gaze into their eyes and tell them we never
could have gone on if they would have held
strong in leaving me
i mean us

so we hold their hands that still have bits of branches
coiled around their knuckles
and tighten our grip fitting in between their fingers
and we admire their eyes
their lips
their structure
them

but when they are not there
when they have picked themselves clean enough
of the sapling remains
and gotten rid of the pieces we so badly hold close
to our chests and made sure to remember
because they were the most rugged
and ridged imperfections of the earth
that way we cannot connect on the same levels as
before because they are now far passed perfect
and no longer intertwined in our bark
and the grooves are smoothed out so the lines have
disappeared with no birds or leaves that fall because
the seasons stopped changing and the wind stopped
whirling and the water stopped glowing and the grass
stopped growing
and everything just stopped

we sit frozen fixed
on the stump that sits stumped
next to us
and pray to angels above and the sun that it'll grow
oh please grow
rain
we tell it
rain
so it will magically reappear even though it's been
cut down
and we yell at the sky for not cooperating
because there isn't one single cloud
and we just stay fixed
on that bump that stands up out of the ground
and we forget that the sun is still there
waiting
wondering
hoping we will just turn our cheek another ninety degrees
and see its pretty fixtures from different angles
and its hands it has to hold
because when it comes to the world

we do not know how to admire any of its causes
we become too blinded in the animosity of who
is there to admire it with
and we stare at the empty space living next to us
but do nothing to soak up the delight-fullness that it is still there to be admired and the truth that
the eyes of our lovers got all of their colors
from those reflected in everything of what surrounds us

Today’s society is full of hate and discrimination
As it redirects people away from their destinations.
Life goes on for those living in the dark,
But life stands still for those living under question marks.
How can people be so mean and be so cruel?
This isn’t the Medieval Times where we can all duel
To see who is right and who is wrong
And the only one left standing is the one that is strong.
They say that the grass is greener on the other side,
But why are people running to hide
From the bullies who take away our rights
And we do nothing but scream with our might?
Why can’t we come together
And be brothers and sisters?
We are all related,
We’re the children of God.
We may look different,
But deep down we’re not odd.
Brothers and sisters,
Come one, come all.
We must come together before the Universe falls.
Together we are threads of God’s little tapestry
That He likes to call Earth and Humanity.
All this Hatred and Animosity
Must stop because we are all friends, not enemies.
We all form our own little tapestries,
But together we form the greatest tapestry
That He likes to call Earth and Humanity.