"christina" poems
Borrow me your eyes
So I can see what you see
When you look at me
Do you see the monster
Inside of me?
Do you see the darkness
Consuming me?
Or do you just recognise the person
You want me to be?
- Christina Rosa A.
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
The body needs the mind,
but the mind does not need the body.
The body is a graveyard
for all your lost thoughts.
for those who died on the battlefield
of imagination and hope.
And those who survived,
Will haunt you forever.
- Christina Rosa A.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 3:07 AM UTC
Christina was standing
by the school gym
her satchel over
her shoulder
her hand gripping
the strap
her hair windswept
when she saw you coming
she smiled nervously
and said
I wondered
if you’d come this way
why?
you asked
she took your arm
and pulled you
into the gym
and let the door
close behind you
the gym was empty
there were voices
and the sound
of people passing
along the passageway
need to see you
she whispered
why?
you asked
I don’t see you
unless I stop you
in the school somewhere
or on the playing field
if the weather’s nice
you gazed
around the gym
at the apparatus
the ropes
the mats
she continued talking
her voice whispering
you looked at her
her eyes dark
and staring
why here?
you asked
we can be alone
for a while
she said
she took hold
of one of your hands
and looked at it
and rubbed her thumb
over the skin
you’re only 13
you said
you’re only 14
she replied
she placed your hand
to her cheek
we’re going to be late
for our next lessons
you said
so?
she replied
you sensed her lips
on your hand
her body moving
closer to you
then she kissed your cheek
then stood there
her mouth slightly open
thank you
you whispered
she smiled
and went out
the gym door
and along
the passageway
you stood gaping
at the ropes
and mats
and the high windows
and a blue sky
and heard voices
calling from the playground
from kids at play
just another moment
you mused
just another day.
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 3:41 AM UTC
Mud is good,
Its dead good mud,
It's in me blood,
But where not understood,
Us people of mud,
In the shadow of a gas tank and born on a Mersey bank, I lived on cobbled streets dark and dank,
I played on a ship that sank, and for anything else I wouldn’t thank....... you
On king street docks, girls in cheap frocks, curly locks, time tocks, the boat rocks,
The tanyard smell made life hell for all that dwell, under the bridge,
In Garston L19, it’s the scene, its clean, it’s where I’ve been, it’s not obscene or green, if you know what I mean.
Its community security sincerity and every other word that ends with erity,
But it’s fallen apart,
Don’t lose heart.
I go into town when I’m down, it clears me frown,
I don’t go in me jarmies or me dressin gown,
There’s men with round bellies, toddlers in wellies,
Posh ladies gather in their marks and spencer swagger,
There’s scouse brow teens, sunbed queens,
Hunks and punks, lonely drunks,
Suits in boots forgetting their roots and hens in *****
Big issue sellers, statue fellas holding golf umbrellas,
Coz of all the rain,
But it’s all good, coz we come from mud,
Let’s cheer, why?
Coz I’m here,
I’m me, me names T, and me hubbys P me best friends she..... lagh,
I like coffee and toffee and Roger Mcgoughy,
I like statistics logistics eye shadow and lipsticks,
I like bags and wags and cigarette **** but not beer,
I’m fine on wine if I take me time,
I don’t do a line, unless I’m hanging me washing on it,
I work in a bar, not far, I don’t drive a car, and I don’t say Lar or kid or lad or lid or mar,
I’m proud and loud, don’t live on a cloud, and I don’t follow the crowd,
I’m a mum to some, I’ve got a big round *** but I’m me you see,
I’m not square, I dye me hair, I swear but you can take me anywhere,
Coz I care,
I’m good,
I’m mud; it’s in me blood,
Understood
By Christina Ford
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 7:23 PM UTC
*The rain pours heavy on my windowpanes; it is only through the darkness that I realize what pain truly means. The sorrow, the lack of luster in everyday that has changed and I fear for those who do not yet know what madness life brings. It is nothing yet everything to understand what suffering brings. The state of darkness looming upon wake, and when the dreams of your subconscious mind come to life and haunt you day by day, I fear for those who do not yet know real pain. The loss of someone you love being ripped away, so abruptly; worse than a Band-Aid on fresh wounds, so terribly worse than seeing someone you love fall deeper and deeper into the chasm of their own demons, like a well you’re drowning and eventually succumb to frightening disdain. One realizes that everything in life isn't truly the same, change is the only constant in this delirious world of contradicting facsimiles.
You have nothing but hope and faith in this world of detriment. And I hope someday you find what you're truly looking for, whether it be love or the meaning to life. But never forget who you truly are, regardless of the pain and the tears that washed away the innocence of your years and fears. I am truly sorry for what you have endured, but I cannot look back anymore, nor ponder upon those heart wrenching fears you called my own, of which I cannot call my own. You must own them like cheap records, and let them die in the night like the decades of musical loss and dying discords. You must find yourself in this beautiful world, never give up on everything wonderful. For you are worth much more than words, much more than anything I could ever endure.
© 2014 Christina Jackson*
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
A veil, placed upon your eyes, somewhere behind them, a deep hidden mystery, lies just beyond those lights. A gentle look, glassy eyed, this night, this night is flying by. Sweat, liquor, regret; this place reeks of years and years of bitter tries. The lies you tell, masked with red. A shade of black, changes to dread. Deep inside your heart, you always carry it within.
Laughter, pain, I can see it on everyone's faces. Beautiful, everybody in here, glistening, glowing, covering up what's really surfacing. Just let it out, until your ankles bleed. You can feel the music, running through your veins. Euphoria, it kicks in. She's hiding, over there in that corner, waiting to let you in. All these cold dead hearts, none of which beat the same. But we're all sitting here, standing here, coincidentally all on the same page. We came here looking, searching for something to fit, to fill that empty place called emptiness. We hope and hope, heels clicking on the cobblestone. Laughter, music, it fills the air. But there's something, something missing here. There auras, there energy, bleeding colors, wash away onto pavement. And we don't know why, we don't know why we're all still here, dancing, laughing, waiting to disappear...blend in with the strobes, the flashes, and grins.
He's waiting right over there, waiting to let you in. Her eyes covered, hidden, and you can't see the want, the look, the pain she's in. Fifty shades of him, of her, of I. When will this end? Dawn's just around the corner, and no one's left but him. Sitting, wondering, thinking, he can still win. In one mere movement, you'd uncover her whims. Everything, everything she wants to bury, resurfaces again. Her eyes; they leak with hurt, with lust, with want, but you can't see it. Remove them, just take them off and you will see. Everything you ever wanted, is hiding right here, deep inside of me. Off to the left, under the breast, is where you'll find me. You've been holding the key all night, won't you just unlock me? Sunglasses, it's no wonder there so expensive, but these, these were free.
© 2013 Christina Jackson
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
Shannon, Mariah, Serena, Maria
Meridia, Midian, Sharon, Alliah
Rochelle, Camille, Rose, Halo
Trenna, Jessica, Ashley, Georgia
Marla, Olivia, Sofia, India
Daniella, Diana, Christina, Caroline
Isabella, Amelia, Amanda, Matilda
Nadine, Haley, Bailey, Francine
Eliza, Annabelle, Kathryn, Sandra
Melinda, Audrey, Aubrey, Emily
Tara, Emma, Ginny, Kathleen
Josephine, Helena, Charlotte, Laura
Chelsea, Arkady, Megan, Kelsey
Kayla, Karliah, Moana, Vivien
Kaysea, Macy, Stacy, Lorraine
Theresa, Felicia, Cecilia, Darlene
Holly, Brianna, Alexa, Ariel
Marianne, Miranda, Jennie, Coral
Korra, Daisy, Penelope, Rayne
Zoey, Cassandra, Grace, Stephanie
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
Douse them
Spark the match
Ignite the flame
release it
unto everything,
everyone
They forgot
I must remind them
what it's like
make them remember
everything beautiful
about life
For what is life
without sparks?
For what is life
without fire?
They forgot
and its been a while
Spark the match
Ignite the flame
forever burning
from within
© 2013 Christina Jackson
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 11:51 PM UTC
Why I’m not “All About that Bass”
So I’m in my car cruising down i-49
When I hear a song with a kickin-baseline
*I'm all about that bass,bout that bass no treble, i'm all about that bass
I'm bringing ***** back go ahead and tell them*
STOP
Excuse me?
When did ***** leave?
How did ***** get there?
Was ***** on vacation?
Where they at tho?
Yeah my moma she told me don’t worry about your size*
But not because in a patriarchal society I am valued for my ratio
Of hips to thighs as handle bars for my man to
“keep me grounded”
But because I was beautiful anyway
I am not the number sewn into society like the waistband of my jeans
I am the number of times I look into the mirror and say “hey ****
And if society is too lazy to know that beneath these eyes but above these hips
And behind this full chest theres a heart
Lets be real
Were not going to blame Meagan trainer
She probably didn’t even write this song
but why are we idolizing these who only look to sexulize the femaile body instead of holding us to
a higher standard
and just think
you are perfect, thank you pink
we can be stronger, thank you Kelly
And no matter what we are beautiful, thank you christina
Why aren't these the women we are idolizing?
Because according to hot 107.9 its all about the *****
I am not something you can put into a box something you can stereotype
Just because i have big thighs and a ***** to match doesn't mean i want it to be pointed out
or catcalled every chance there is.
my body your body everyones body is their own
and deserves to be treated like its own perfect stronger more beautiful self.
i am strong
i am perfect
i am beautiful
my hips don't belong to you
my ***** does not belong to you
i do not belong to you
And thats why im not all about that bass
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
Love will be my guiding light
Revealed to me on the darkest of nights
Ever a reminder of brighter times.
All the hurt and all the pain,
will eventually fade away.
My wounds may never heal
but I will not let them stray
I will not let them wallow away
Forever I'll remember, all of those days
I spent bruised and scarred.
Torn and tattered, but not once
did I shatter! not once did I break!'
Everything in me, made of stone.
You cannot break, the unbreakable.
You cannot muffle this flame within'
Try as you might, but you will never win.
The strong, they'll prevail in the end.
© 2013 Christina Jackson
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
I now delight
In spite
Of the might
And the right
Of classic tradition,
In writing
And reciting
Straight ahead,
Without let or omission,
Just any little rhyme
In any little time
That runs in my head;
Because, I’ve said,
My rhymes no longer shall stand arrayed
Like Prussian soldiers on parade
That march,
Stiff as starch,
Foot to foot,
Boot to boot,
Blade to blade,
Button to button,
Cheeks and chops and chins like mutton.
No! No!
My rhymes must go
Turn ’ee, twist ’ee,
Twinkling, frosty,
Will-o’-the-wisp-like, misty;
Rhymes I will make
Like Keats and Blake
And Christina Rossetti,
With run and ripple and shake.
How pretty
To take
A merry little rhyme
In a jolly little time
And poke it,
And choke it,
Change it, arrange it,
Straight-lace it, deface it,
Pleat it with pleats,
Sheet it with sheets
Of empty conceits,
And chop and chew,
And hack and hew,
And weld it into a uniform stanza,
And evolve a neat,
Complacent, complete,
Academic extravaganza!
3.1k
Did you know the East Indian Bottle Masala includes as many as 27 spices, or that an oil-free pickle served at their weddings is actually known as Wedding Pickle?
These and many such authentic East Indian masalas and pickles are available at East Indian Cozinha (Portuguese for kitchen), a food store started by Christina Kinny at Kolovery Village in Kalina, Santacruz. "I started East Indian Cozinha with an attempt to preserve and highlight our cuisine and culture," says the 24-year old, who has studied Masters in Social Work and currently, works with an enterprise that helps tribal farmers.
What’s in store?
Going back 500 years, the East Indian cuisine enjoys influences from Portuguese, British and Maharashtrian fare. The staples include rice, coconut, tamarind, fish and meats, with spices forming an integral part of the cuisine. For instance, Prawn Atola is a dry dish comprising prawns coated only with Vindaloo Masala featuring Kashmiri chilli, cumin and turmeric. "Most people from our community were farmers and would be out on field all day. So, the masalas and lemon would help preserve their food for a longer time," reasons Kinny.
At present, the store stocks six varieties of masala in 100g bottles (R150 onwards). These include Khuddi or Bottle Masala, Chinchoni (fish) Masala, Vindaloo Masala, Roast Rub, Kujit Masala and Tem Che Rose. She also offers Wedding Pickle, an oil-free variety prepared with raw papaya, carrots and dry dates. "All the recipes have been passed on from generations and are homemade," she informs.
However, making the masalas is no cakewalk. "It takes three days to dry spices under the sun. Then, we hand pound them and pack them tightly in bottles with wider openings," says Kinny. She recalls that in her grandmother’s time, the masalas were tightly stuffed in beer bottles. The bottles were darker, and hence, helped preserve the masala for at least a year, at room temperature.
Lugra love
East Indian Cozinha also stocks traditional 10-yard saris known as lugras. These are hand embroidered by Kinny’s mother, Carol. Previously made only from cotton with authentic gold borders, now, lugras are embroidered with sequins and threads. "She has been in the garment industry for the last 30 years. She also makes traditional accessories like kapotas (earrings), karis (hair pins), anklets, etc," informs Kinny.
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
My daughter will not crawl from crib to tanning bed.
She will learn
the terms “unnattainable beauty standards” before she learns the alphabet.
She will never compare herself
to anyone.
She will never compare herself to Britney, Christina, Selena.
She will never compare herself to Cinderella, Ariel, Belle,
Hell. No.
She will never aspire to be the sultry *** kitten taking seductive showers in shampoo commercials.
No.
My daughter will be named Venus.
The goddess of love, beauty, fertility,
The most beautiful woman I ever saw.
She is plump, fullfigured barebreasted wide hipped with curly hair covered mons
Goddess.
My daughter will grow up to be ****** poisonously beautiful
With long locks of goldenrodred hair, like her mother.
Greyblueblack eyes and shoulder freckles, like her father.
And if I can never become pregnant,
my sisters daughters will be my daughters
skin the color of cinnamon or chocolate, or vanilla ice cream
and just as sweet.
Men, women, boys, girls will pine over her, fall in love with her radiating skin
that will never look photoshopped, but always real.
As if the sun came down from the sky to give her the glow of all the light in the universe.
She will love her body the way that my mother taught me to love mine.
I will show her pictures of Whoopi Goldberg and America Ferrera and Margaret Cho and Marilyn Monroe
And she will know that beauty
is not a synonym
for skinny.
Beauty
is not a synonym for
****
Beauty is not defined by size
or color
or texture, no.
It is defined by how she distributes
her love
and light
to everyone she meets.
no exceptions.
and she will never doubt that she is lovely.
Sep 2, 2011
Sep 2, 2011 at 11:47 AM UTC
Hey there Christina,
What's it like to roam the city
When there's boys and girls who look at you, thinking;
'Isn't she so pretty?'
Well yes you are..
You're the prettiest soul in the world by far, but why are you so far?
Hey there Christina
What's it like being on stage?
I'm at home tonight writing this for you,
But i know you'll be just great
Give it all you've got..
Sing as if the microphones are off :')
Like i'm there to watch
But oh, what happened to us?
Cause oh how i've been missing you so much
And oh my love was never enough
But it's stronger now than it ever was
And Christina i can promise you
That by the time you read this through
I would have tried to live my life and get somewhere without you,
But i'd rather go back to square one with youu..
.. Hey there Christina,
I hope you always find a reason to smile,
Even if that smile is no longer because of me, I'm glad I meant something to you for a while,
And i'm still writing to you,
Every single day.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
Christina Quinn
has made Quality condoms
a focal point of her campaign.
That Anthony ******
he of modest demeanor,
would be happy to model t'is plain.
As a Lesbian, Quinn
doesn't care for what's in
The condoms she touts on campaign.
If abstinence matters
put her face on the wrappers
and no one will be glad that they came.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 7:09 AM UTC
Help
Needed and available
…If I search
Loved ones
In darkness
Placed by me
Expected to be…
…Decent
The outside
Different
Inside… blackness
Expectations pile high
But my shower
Saw my face
Once
Knowledge of the next word?.
Not surprised
Choking on
“the tip of your tongue”
Don’t have a place
In your mind,
Roommates?
Forgiveness
Although
Counted how many times
MY lips touched
Your pipe
Having deep conversations
Your sweet friend
Christina
And
My old friend
Death
Didn’t know
Preoccupied?.
True
Got your own ****
Handle
Cause I’m not
Losing order
Losing my way
Falling deeper
Into the rabbit holes
Breaking where
I’m broken
Broken Molecules
Nothing more
Than these words and tears
So who am I now?.
A pathetic week
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC
You draw me in, like fire on a cold night.
Comforting, warm, bright.
Your smile; gentle, loving, kind.
Wont you be mine?
© 2013 Christina Jackson
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
The days seem too short
The nights much too long
All those nights I cried,
only just to rest my eyes
Oh don’t you weep
For now my soul can truly sleep
Remember me, just remember me
Basking in the summer rays
Wasting away those lustful days
Remember our songs
Those lovely songs
We’d sing together all night long
Remember me, remember our bond
It's been quite some time now
Since I've seen that smile
Brighten up those eyes
'Cause I'm always here but never there
Just a whisper
and I'll appear
Remember me
Just simply me
All those yesterdays
and
Tomorrows never to be
Yes, that clock
That clock continues to ring
and a dream never dream t
is a dream best kept,
hidden deep inside
Time oh pesky time
Don't you always seem to slip by
Remember me, remember my life
Gaze away Oh beautiful star
How I wish you weren't so far
You must not seek
what it is that's blinding thee
That trickle of light
You see
It's slightly out of reach
Won't you just remember me?
© 2012 Christina Jackson
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 4:46 PM UTC
Trapped in this material world;
All these material girls, possessed by their possessions
Trapped in this material world;
nothing I want, and nothing more
All these people, all these things
What are they really?
but just things,
and trinkets
and rings.
I'm Trapped;
Nowhere to go, nothing to give.
© 2013 Christina Jackson
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 10:52 AM UTC
o darling oh wohw ohhh dar-ling oh wohw wohw wohw dahrrr-leeeing some gunman walked into the mall
who shot Gabby Giffords? why what’s the reason for I said Sarah Palin with my cross-hair target I shot Gabby Giffords who saw her fall? I said gun laws people with my little eye I saw her fall who caught her blood? I said Daniel Hernandez who placed pressure to her wound with my finger caught her blood who shot Gabby Giffords? why what’s the reason for who'll make the shroud? I said Cochise County ranchers pressuring for tougher Mexican border laws I'll make the shroud with my thread and needle who'll interpret what she stood for? I said Tea Party constituents with my pick and shovel I’ll dig her grave who shot Gabby Giffords? why what’s the reason for who'll be the minister? I said Washington lobbyists with my little book I’ll be the minister who'll be the clerk? I said the media if it's not in the dark I'll be the clerk who'll carry the link I said Twitter I'll fetch it in a minute I'll carry the link who shot Gabby Giffords? why what’s the reason for who'll be chief mourner? I said American people I mourn for my love I’ll be chief mourner who shot Gabby Giffords? why what’s the reason for who'll carry the consequence? I said destitute lost their homes to Wall Street banks if it's not through the night I'll carry the moment who'll bear the sadness? We said the world both man and woman We'll bear sadness who shot Gabby Giffords? why what’s the reason for who'll sing a psalm? I said the poet as she sat on a bush I'll sing a psalm who'll toll the bell? I said factory worker because I can pull I'll toll the bell for all people of the land fell a-sighing a-sobbing when they heard the bell toll for poor Gabby Giffords. who shot Gabby Giffords? why what’s the reason for some gunman walked into the mall 9 mm Glock in his hand shot a bullet through her head 13 wounded 6 dead including little 9 year old girl Christina-Taylor Green who shot Gabby Giffords? why what’s the reason for
marching bands make me cry i don’t know why they’re so dazzling beautiful fun playing their instruments marching in uniformed unison they melt my heart eyes wet with sadness joy who shot Gabby Giffords? some gunman walked into the mall
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 2:19 AM UTC
They told me to take things back to the 90's
Take things back to the heart
Told me I should have done this from the start.
But the views from my six are contoured.
Covered in foundations of fuckboys, fuckgirls and blessers.
So tell me how do I express my heart when this generation believes the only functioning ***** should be brain,
Because heart will **** you
And the others are going to die from harmful ingestions.
They told me to take it back to the 90's.
Take things back to the heart.
So here I go.
The basis of my poetry has always been pain.
My heart and soul always confining in a dark pit of abyss.
My body constricted in a corner
Huddled up, popping everything it could.
Now the basis of this story isn't about you saving me,
But how you gave me your hand, shoulder, smile and wisdom to the path of saving.
Of how you opened your chest, tore out your ribcage and gave me your broken heart as you took mine.
Of how you taught me pain is inevitable but suffering is optional
Of how you showed me true love.
And how grateful I am.
In twenty four hours the heart beats 115200 times.
At least fifty percent of the time my heart skips a beat.
This means from 57600 beats and above are skipped.
A week consists of seven days
In hours that's approximately 168.
As like the first at least fifty percent is lost in thought of you
Which means 84hrs and above I think about you.
An average of all 12 months is approximately 140 days.
Okay skip the math, let's get straight to the conclusion.
Math is a fine art of illusion.
Filled with various abstract to distract you.
But the rule is you will always find your x.
The x that completes your equation.
So what I am saying is that you complete my equation of life
You're my X.
Literature teaches us to express our feelings in terms of literal devices.
From anecdotes, personification to lititoes.
It tells us to sing with our hearts,
Speak with our souls and allow our voices to do it all.
Like Christina Rossetti,
"My heart is like a singing bird"
"For my love has come to me"
Look truth is you give me butterflies.
You make my heart swell up in happiness.
You make me feel alive.
You make me stutter out of nervousness.
You make me want to impress you.
To always put a smile on that beautiful face.
You make me want to hear your laugh every single second.
You make me happy
Which makes me want to make you happy.
Because pain is a feeling we all get to experience
But happiness is rare and I want you to feel it.
What I am trying to say is
I'm taking it back to the 90's
To the early 2000's
To tell you, you're one in a million
That I'm stuck on you
And that I am madly in love with you.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 2:32 AM UTC
At first, all is good. Everything’s ok, until Christina starts to realize what kind of world we live in. A cruel one. Then everything starts to crumble into pieces. She’s hurt. People are suffering from the pain that society gives to us. ‘We blame society but we are society’- we are blaming society that that is the reason why everyone is hurting, dying of pain. Constantly being judged by one another, slowly leaving the world because the pain is too overwhelming. But we are blaming ourselves because we are the ones who are doing these actions, but sometimes, we just don’t know it. I know two people that left because they were constantly being judged on being ‘gay.’ I know people that bullied, or once bullied. I bullied too. I bullied others, because I didn’t want to be the only one feeling the pain. I’m sure you must have been bullied once in your lifetime, and you have made fun of or bullied someone else to for the same reason, or probably for a different reason. Some people tell each other to **** themselves’ and then they say it’s a joke. This is totally off topic (sorta) but I just want to say this. Telling someone to **** themselves. People have the nerve to say this, have the nerve to think its funny even if it was a joke. But that person might take it seriously, and how would you feel if that person was gone the next day, because of you. Now, I’m not saying you have done this, but im just saying in general.
Words have the power people give them.
But anyways, don’t let anyone make you feel less in any way because we are all equal. We should all be treated the same, but unfortunately we are not.
a.a.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
Forbidden
the fruits of all evil
the root of all evil
A deep shadow cast
within the garden
of Eden, my past
I cannot forget
I will not last
Forbidden
Was I?
From living a life free of lies
Of unfocused feelings
focusing on my cries
Why? Why? Why?
What have I done?
A forbidden fruit
in the garden of Eden
Where the root of all evil
Grows and grows
until every apple has been eaten
© 2013 Christina Jackson
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
My heart's ablaze
I'm so amazed
cluttered in clichés
in a daze
I'm dismayed
too many long driveways
Life's fortes
as we graze
upon the gaze
in a haze of haze
trapped inside this maze
our voices phase
into the next of days
Oh did we raise
with utter rephrase
glancing sideways
into stairways
how I hate your ways
as much as I hate causeways
too much decay
along the edgeways
inside the hallways
roadways
screenplays
my heart strays
on into Sundays
and Tuesdays
I hate the weekdays
they're gateways
into other days.
© 2012 Christina Jackson
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 1:08 AM UTC