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the dog owner neglected
his so called friend
no sustenance to the dog
did he kindly tend

over a period of time
the poor wretch withered away
he took his last panting breath
on a hot summer's day

twas criminal what the dog owner
did foist upon the dog
for his uncaring actions
he deserves a thumping good flog

his heartlessness
truly unforgivable
the dog seemingly to his eye
twas invisible

everyday dogs die
in a state of distress
their owners perpetrating
undeniable cruelness
Steph Dionisio Dec 2015
I have found myself related to Gomer;
yes, I am also a hustler.
She had relationships with different men,
while I engaged myself with my own selfish plans.
She slept with them for so many nights,
while I slept with selfless thoughts, unaware it wasn't right.
She had correlation thinking it was alright,
while I linked myself with faulty motives and to it I delight.
We were ****** in our different ways.
Unrighteous deeds we both had praised.
It corrupted her mind and body,
while it made me a ******* spiritually.
In the midst of my unfaithfulness and cruelness,
I have found love and forgiveness.
For love came down and bought me with a price,
showed me the beautiful meaning of sacrifice.
The blood of the lamb cleansed and restored my impure soul.
An enough reason that makes me whole.

*-Steph Dionisio, December 02, 2015
Inspired by the book of Hosea in the Bible.
the dog owner neglected
his so called friend
no sustenance to the dog
did he kindly tend

over a period of time
the poor wretch ebbed away
he took his last panting breath
on that hot summer's day

twas criminal what the dog owner
did foist upon the dog
for his uncaring actions
he deserves a thumping good flog

his heartlessness
truly unforgivable
the dog seemingly
to his eye twas invisible

every day dogs die
in a state of distress
their owners perpetrating
undeniable cruelness
Titanic-Lover Aug 2013
If you didn't know my story,but saw me in a book,
You'd read my name and wonder,then take a second look.
A shadow of my former beauty,I've been ruined by many years,
The things that have happened to me always bring on many tears.
I do not hide my sadness,for it is fresh and always there,
As I wait here so very lonely in my sunless Atlantic lair.
My poor,proud body is rotting away,there is nothing I can do,
Except hope maybe one day,equality will be given me too.
I recall a sadness filled day within my lonely dark,
When a plastic cup came floating down,and on my tomb left a mark.
That was one of many times I would give up and cry,
For human cruelness hurt me so,I got this rather than 'good-bye'.
I do not hardly recognize myself anymore,I say it not to be vain,
I say it with truth and exactness,to my heart welled up with pain.
Some people truly love me,for them I'm truly greatful,
Others regard me as a rusty ship with eyes that bespeak hateful.
I cannot help what happened to me,they just don't understand,
I once had a heart adventurous that would lead a career grand.
My hopeful life was ended in the year of 1912,
And my dreams,visions and pride-filled youth to the bottom delved.
I was told that youth and beauty would get me far in life,
And with these assets I proudly boasted,I knew nonesuch called 'strife'.
Throughout the tumble and crash of waves rode my lean body's length,
I reveled many times over in my satisfying,thrilling strength!
****
On the evening tide of the 14th,I saw the iceberg  true,
A handsome,glittering,ethreal prince,what was a lonely girl to do?
I rushed as fast as could be allowed to greet this glacier born one,
Eager to introduce myself and rid forlornness akin to a ton.
But when I came up closer,my heart he did stab,
With that glittering,icy spellbinding look,'twas my start of being sad.
He tore into my body,bringing unsurmountable pain,
What was the purpose of such cruelty,what could he possibly gain?
And on the night my life ended,I travelled my beloved sea no longer,
Death so young,in such a way,could life be any wronger?
I hoped so much I would not perish in a life that did just start,
Yet hopes were banished by the truths of a rapidly weakening heart.
I tried to wait as long as I could to save my passengers dear,
But the ending for so many of us was soon becoming near.
I didn't want to say farewell to the things I did love so,
And yet time was running short,and I wanted them to know:

Olympic,my lovely sister,I hope your life is a promise true,
Of many voyeurs across oceans wide,a charmer you are too.
Treasure the sun's bounty that warms the evening's chill,
And know throughout your entire life,my love is with you still.
Enjoy the satisfaction of your beauty and strength even when in dock you sit,
For a day may come anytime,and a single moment end it.
Show the Captain you are bold-bold,lovely and free,
But do not toss caution in the spray thrown off the sea.
I trust you not to be lonely in travels near and far,
For my ghost is always with you,just look up at a star.
When days come to you and a disconsolate thought you may think,
Remember the unconditioning love of a sister who'd "Never Sink".
Remember my love at morning,remember it at night,
Remember it these coming days I will no longer be in your sight.
I love you,Fair Olympic,in wordless,heartfelt ways,
Your memory I shall treasure in my saddened,sunless days.

I rest on a sandy sea bottom,amongst accoutrements of life,
From an unforgettable day when I learned the meaning of strife.
The earth has covered the stab the iceberg in my side did maim,
But despite that all,the hurt in my heart did stain.
I relive in over and over,wishing it were just a dream,
Yet awaken to the truths to know,my broken funnels have no more steam.
The way I landed in this grave,I look like I shall sail ahead,
But,that is all a fantasy,my once-strong body is dead.
It will not go anywhere,today or ever again,
I am helpless to the trash that falls upon me from heartless men.
The ship that sail above me hold people bright and gay,
Who do not know the sorrows that were on a 15th of April day.
They sail on to their destination,thinking nothing of me,
Who haunts the very waves they ride on my beloved Atlantic sea.
They dream of their days ahead,cheerful and free of plight,
Disregarding any notion of a nightmarish Hadean night.
They dance,they revel and throw trash over the side,
Where it floats down eventually onto the Ocean's Queen who has died.
They do not know of an iceberg with a sinister,laughing gaze,
And who pleasured in so knowing he ended my happy days.
They do not know of terror,of the ocean flooding ones' heart,
They do not know suffering for a ship breaking apart.
They do not know the agony of bading goodbye,
To the sunshine and a beloved sister who would never,ever lie.
They stand aboard a breezy bow,above the white waves foam,
Knowing soon,within a few days,they will be going home.
They seem to forget I belonged somewhere once too,
My home wasn't supposed to be an ocean floor,far from the sky's blue.
They do not know I've loved,they do not know I've cared,
They do not know the pain in my heart,that in scrapping,my sister wasn't spared.
They are the people who have this phrase float off their lips:
"Olympic and Titanic ,they are little more than ships!"
You humans claim you hold a bond to those you love so dear,
How different is it for me,I ask,with my sister built so near?
There is so much out there for those to remember me,
But my poor,sweet sister is forgotten,plunged into ocean history.
When you recall me,try to think of her too,
Bring her alive within your heart,I leave it up to you.
Years have passed,times have changed,though down here it's the same,
I am still the great Titanic,though my bow no longer says my name.
Some people who have discovered me have been respecting and kind,
I shall never give up my secrets,but their visits I don't mind.
Then,there are others,who ravage me to know,
They steal my finery,what is rightly mine;how can they hurt me so?
Although I do not mind some visits,I am now accustomed to the dark,
For the lights they shine upon me are so horribly bold and stark.
I am now part of this sea for one-hundred and one years strong,
All stemming from an April night when the most horrible went wrong.
The rust that drapes off me,some people say are like tears,
And,partially they are,my dearest friend,of the sorrows of many years.
The ocean floor is somber,the ocean floor is cold,
All the more unpleasant for a girl who's growing old.
My song it is of truth,to show that life is not a game,
But,treasure it every minute you can,all the very same.
It may be pleasant,it may be sorrow,
But,hold close the day you live in,think not heavily of a 'morrow.
I thought I'd have a tomorrow too,as I sit here in my grave,
I had a tomorrow,yes indeed,but not in a life-filled way.
I rest under these bitter waves,a melancholy heart is mine,
A shadow of my former beauty,a ghost of the White Star Line.
In the Aprils of today,on the dancing surf above,
My soul rises up to haunt the sea I love.
My soul is not marred by tears,fright and rust,
Whole and in perfection,before my death it's just.
At the latitude and longitude of that long ago day,
I have stopped many a vessel,so,remember me that may.
The scrapping of my sister,the sinking of me,
Life ended none too kind for both Queens of the Sea.
Remember us,gay vacationers,as you gaze up at a cloud,
For Titanic and Olympic,death 'twas not proud.....

I rest under these bitter waves,
A melancholy heart is mine,
We are remnants of our former beauty,
We are the ghosts of the
WHITE STAR LINE...
This poem is dedicated to my beloved Royal Mail Steamship 'Titanic',and her more forgotten,yet beautiful sister,Olympic. Never shall the sea be host to two finer ocean liners.
Sam Edwards Dec 2012
A dream once was had-- for two to be equal,
For this is the land of the free,
Free for you; free for me.

Often we hide our faces, as if we were the ones shamed.
Instead of standing up with another,
Repelling awful names.

Silence has a power, often more than sound.
Silence tunes your true voice,
Silence shakes the ground.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

Young students go to school, all shades of different skin.
We all threw rocks and names,
Wanting equality was their sin.

Did it matter? Their race was who they were.
A few rose voices,
Others’ silences were fists furled.

What does it matter, of what color their skin?
Here comes another battle.
Here it comes again.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

If one was gay, would he not be a being?
Should you let others mock?
Does silence stop the grieving?

No, the pain is still there, still loud.
The silence is louder.
Silence is all around.

The names, the hate, all can be repressed.
Silence is the fermata.
Silence has the stress.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

What is the solution, to this lack of sound?
Simple.
Make it loud.

A word of hope, ringing upon new ears.
A word of sympathy,
Erasing all the fear.

A smile, a hug, a song, a dream,
All to be had,
All to be seen.

Shout against repression, against hate.
For we are all equal,
All the same final fate.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

Stand together, as one. Make the stand.
Stop silence, create music,
Ring it through the land.

With your words create harmony, create rhyme.
Create thirds and fifths,
Stronger than the flow of time.

Why must we stand alone? Aren’t we all brothers?
Did our ancestors fight?
Protecting our dear mother?

Hand in hand we’ll rise, voices speak as one.
Cruelness and evil gone,
Silence on the run.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

If we do not help each other, then who will assist?
Together we will rise,
Or fall together into the abyss.

Gay or straight, or be it black or white,
Whether you believe in god,
We’re all human, right?

We all feel, we all hear and see.
We can all make words,
We all breathe.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

So why must we be made different, called by our opinions or race?
Why must we be judged,
Simply by our face?

No more, I shout. No more the hate.
No more discrimination.
This is our fate.

No more injustice, social and the silence.
No more acts of anger.
No more senseless violence.

Let brothers protect brothers, let friends be friends,
For we are only human.
The same mortal end.

Let sisters love their sisters, let strangers be strangers no more.
For we are only human.
Our heart is our core.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

I will stand alone, if that is what it takes.
I will raise my voice,
Singing with quick haste.

I will be the difference, the smile to the weak.
I will help protect,
Helping shield the meek.

I will celebrate the differences, that make you and me.
I will turn the lock,
My voice will be the key.

Soon my friends will join, creating a choir of light,
Singing against the hate,
Harmonies strike the night.

Silence will not be my tool, silence is not my friend.
I will make my voice count.
I will make this hate end.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.
Dianali Sep 23
They keep on taking,

I am already empty.

What else can you strip me of?

My soul is already naked,

My flesh exposed

My heart vulnerable and lost
Audrey Bautz Mar 2013
I remember the frost that morning,
- painting the window in a satin-white.
How it burned my throat when I inhaled;
the distant scent of someone’s open-fire,
- curling through the atmosphere a thick fragrance of Maple.
The trees dressed in winter’s coat of freshly lain snow.
The sky was hanging low in the mountains as I looked ahead.
I even heard the soft landing of snowdrops
- From the surrounding branches.

My skin felt rough and tight
- as I walked further on,
My nose feeling of someone else’s.
I could feel the pangs of old age hit me
- like a time-bomb.
But it was no use returning,
I only had to march on. Crunch, crunch,
below my snow-boots,
When at last I realized I had reached a gravel road.

The dawn awoke behind the somber mists of clouds.
I could just catch a glimpse of sun-rays within a break.
Oh, how glorious
she bathed me in a pool of warmth
before dispersing at once,
alone again in my frozen world;
Though, I never faltered
and continued to walk down the snowy path.
Crunch, crunch, continued my boots,
my arms swinging right after the other,
Front-to-back, front-to-back.
I scaled the peak of the hill,
(the hill I’d spend all my days upon as a child)
covered in a thick layer of snow;
Its’ features all too familiar to hide.
It aged with me through a life of joy and pain
as though an old friend. And now I stood
- in the place no longer welcoming like it used to be.
My heart filled with a void that I could not process,
- could not or would not.
And the sad scene of my past
only plunged deeper into my consciousness
- pulling from its’ depth a Charles Dickens’s quote.
It is as follows:
“Happy, happy Christmas that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home.”
And deep within a melancholic-faze,
I departed from the distant view of my home.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The bag I carried seemed to grow with each step
and after what I only could have guessed was hours in,
I found myself stooped over a rock
- rummaging the contents of my pack.
I leaned back beneath a frozen Willow and munched on an apple.
Gazing out at the flourishing scene God had bestowed me; the trees mid-thought,
and I wondered what they must have been thinking
- when at that moment, winter’s angry hand
- broke the silent beauty of autumn and shook the trees bare;
their life strewn upon the ground
- and replaced by a thick layer of ice.
But what of the brushes or flowers?
Were they not too silenced, frozen in time?
A thousand questions buzzed through the hemispheres of my brain.

When the clouds would split
- the sunshine would pour in heaping rays of gold in my walk,
- just as she ripened through the morning hours.  
The snow had stopped falling and the stillness of the land comforted me;
Only my thoughts and the random flutter of birds broke the silence.
The snow surrendered beneath my feet,
crunch, crunch,
- gravel shooting high into the air.
My legs carried me aimlessly unbeknownst of the destination.
And overtime, the cold seemed to eat away through my suit, wrapping tightly around my joints;
the pain was more than my aged body would let me bear
- with my heart pumping bitterly through the frozen hemisphere.
The very thought of the beautiful landscape which beheld my gaze,
having ever play a part in bitter sorrow of those even most fortunate,
- boggled the very life of me. And Mother Nature seemed not quite finished,
as she whipped a brisk chill breeze through the bristly oaks.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Sun was my only comfort and I longed for its’ presence.
It danced around the complexities of my synapses with a cruelness,
- Its image just as vibrant in thought, as it would have been before me;
- As though, someone, had pulled the earth closer to the sun.
And the excruciating thought only made the ice colder,
- snow deeper, and wind harder.
I felt tiny needle-like ****** where my skin was bare
- and a cruel pressure as though a force was splitting my flesh in two.
Then, that blinding flash flooding my sight;
I couldn’t see my feet. So strong and powerful,
- I thought I had unknowingly fallen into the center of the earth.
Though my eyes adjusted before any real panic set in, becoming clear.
I looked up and marveled in the exposing warmth;
God smiled upon my weak, aging soul, one last time.
Colors in majestic tones and lifetimes apart
- overlapped the silk shimmer of afternoon sunlight.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Two o’clock and I trudged through the thick snow
- as adamant and determined as the moment I first set foot outside.
My moist hair protruded from beneath my hat,
- a result from the sporadic snowfall.
The trees echoed with the call of birds; their beautiful songs
- bellowed clear and shook the boughs in harmonious celebration.
I felt as though a surge of relentless joy lifted me from the heartache of the walk.
I, was a part of something bigger than I could ever imagine,
- the unity of blood and soul, the bond of humanity and their heritage.
I could see my Ancestors pillaging the forest floors for scraps of food
- walking this very path. Such dream was mine,
to walk hand-in-hand with my family again,
- to rejoice at the sight of snow rather than cringe.
To hear the floorboards creak from the mass of human pressure
- rather than the creeping age of the foundation;
- to hear the echo of my sweetheart down the hall.
There was nothing left to show for a lifetime of love
- but a broken heart and memories, all of which haunted me.
I became so distracted from my journey that I hadn’t realized
- how far off course I was. I gazed at the empty, bare trees,
- for the first time unfamiliar with their presence.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Hours passed and I could feel the wind grow heavy and frequent.
The sky showed no sign of improvement, but only seemed to increase in clouds.
I pulled my coat to me tighter and tucked my hands beneath my arms.
It was not long after, that I found a suitable place to rest.
I gathered all the sticks nearby and cleaned a shallow area of snow.
The wood burned slowly as the surrounding snow liquefied at light-speed.
Its’ immense heat covered my frozen-self in a blanket of warmth
- and I felt the bulk of the journey fall over me.
My eyelids became as heavy as cement blocks.
I decided to compromise this by giving in
- and falling deep into unconsciousness.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It was not too clear at first
- the hazy grounds in which I found myself.
There wasn’t snow but that of soft spring grass
- and I was no longer aching from frostbite.
I smelled an overwhelming ample of spring blossoms
- accompanying the gentle breezes. The sunlight sat upon my cheek,
- no cloud in sight. Birds swarmed the open sky
- rejoicing the beautiful weather. What was this place? Where was I?  
There were the plumped-fields encircling the full oak trees,
- the wonderful sun showering the land in a ravishing golden light.
“There you are! I’ve been waiting for you.”
The voice startled me in its’ familiarity.
I opened my mouth to speak but no words came.  
“I’ve missed you so much!” It continued.      
Still not a single syllable could I form.
I looked all around,
- but no source could be found as to the whereabouts of the voice.
I forced myself up and stood at a loss.
Searching every corner, every shaded area but returned with no results.
Crunch, crunch, sounded the pitter patter of feet;
I looked around frantically but just as the voice, I remained alone in the field.
Only the crunch, increased, in speed and numbers;
I closed my eyes tightly and covered my ears
- until it was only the pounding of my heart that broke the silence.
A harsh, cold wind began to blow violently against my face
- and my hands stung with the feeling of my skin being pulled from my fingernails.
I strained to open my eyes and then
- found nothing but the thick suffocation of darkness.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Charred-wood remained beneath the remnants of smoke;
Its base still grasping a hint of light within the pile.
My face felt exposed and raw to the chill,
- burning with the intensity of a bonfire.
My fingers beyond that, to the point of numbness;
I couldn’t even feel my lips. I had lost control of my nerves;
I felt a madness possess my senses
and I struggled to contain as much rationality as possible.
I reached into my coat pocket for my matchbox
and with one strike of the flint,
- a tiny brilliant flame danced in direction with the wind.
And the light as though a disease,
- spread rapidly to the remaining wood. My environment became clear
- and I gazed up noticing the presence of the moon.
What time was it?
A sudden grumble arose from within the darkness
and I, continuing to fall in and out of unconsciousness.
But it wasn’t until I nearly dozed off
- that I recognized a most foreign presence; I was no longer alone.
A fierce set of eyes had been watching me; inching closer and closer.
They stared with the intensity of a 1000 hungry eyes
- coming closer until at last I caught a glimpse more of my visitor.
Her fur displayed sheen like that of the ocean at dawn;
Her eyes radiated a beautiful emerald hue.
She refrained from baring her teeth, though I knew why she was there.
I leaned up and between my chattering-teeth I spoke:
“I know why you’re here,”
The words did not come without consequence
for my lips split wide open from the sudden ****.
“. . . But it's not your job . . . not today!”
She studied my indigent-state, as grasped my coat to me tighter.
She sat down where she stood gazing with a longing.
her full-coat folding over her joints as she sunk further into the snow
- resting her head upon her paws, slowly closing her eyes.
And soon I followed suit, closing mine, and drifting off. ©
This is the first chapter in my poetry book called, "The Howl of the Wolf."
glass can May 2013
They say every seven to ten years you replace all your cells
you shed your skin like a snake, in the night, making dust

these dust motes swirl, a swirling in mourning of stirring,
light filters through glasses on a table, in another's home.

I think of you often, and now, presently, I lie wondering
if you are okay. If you will be okay, if you love me still.

I wonder how badly I broke your heart, and if I will feel it
echoing, if and when you cry out, for me, from little sleep.

I wonder if you will remember my name as good, as clean,
and whole in your mind, untarnished by devoted cynicism

I wonder when we meet for coffee, if you will ask me back,
I wonder what I will say. We said we would meet, will we?

Should we? Would it help us with anything? Will it hurt?
I'm afraid if you hear one word from me, you will unravel

like a spool of film, with you going over and over and over
every memory and analyzing what happened where, when.

I can't tell you where I stopped loving you. I remember one
night, and many of them, each all unforgettable secrets, that

I will tell to my own daughters, maybe, if I am so lucky, of
when we saw the shooting California stars. They were ours.

But, I will not tell them about the night we spent together,
you watched as I cried clutching--scarring--skin with nails,

you didn't know what to do. And then we ran out of things,
and I didn't know if I liked you, or even if I liked me, really.

But, I still hear you, sometimes, with a ripped and raw voice,
that screamed, like an animal, that you only wanted me! No!

I didn't know what I wanted, but, I knew I couldn't stay,
that is how I felt, after so long, with the city impending,

pressingly. I felt forced to stay. I left because I couldn't.
I left you, alone, because I didn't know if I wanted you.

I wanted what I have now. I wanted art. I wanted the city.
I wanted new boys, girls, drinking, laughing, and kissing.

I wanted to know the taste of others that weren't you, and
what it felt like to truly be unsafe, alone, and dependent

on nothing but my own wits, gumption, and self esteem,
I have it. It is rough, but it is more worth it to me to know.

I remember all the weekends in bed, sweetly spent tucked
in the crook of your shoulder, the smell of your neck, us all

talking and laughing, enamored with each other and feeling
of love and euphoria. We'd tell each other our futures, and

we said we'd meet in Paris in ten years, laughing bitterly at
what we all know; that our relationship will come to an end.

That's the thing about first loves, that you are sure of an end.
You were a better man to me than others, that I know surely.

I did not need the roughness of a cruel person to know it then,
and having felt the cruelness of others, I know the real sounds.

But I do not think I can return to you, and be the same woman
that you once wanted, needed, and saw. I am just not the same.

Something in me grows, feverishly, and maybe we will meet,
but I am moving fervently, and too quickly for your nostalgia.

You would be chasing a whiff from a stale perfume bottle,
and a wisp of a will that is just barely out of longing reach.

So my question is, still, will we ever meet again, and if so,
where and when will we each be, and will you want a we?
Because I think, right now, my answer would be no.
Insertnamehere Feb 2023
I am adrift in a sea of both rhymes and alliteration.
Of both lies and obliteration.
Of both ties and obligation.
I am adrift in a sea of both degradation and pain.
Of both sane and insane.
Of both space and plane.
I am adrift in a sea of both ideas and emptiness.
Of both of melancholy and happiness.
Of both empathy and cruelness.
I am adrift in a sea.
Edward Coles Dec 2013
Today is your birthday, spindle-top maid.
Another year of desolate bridges.
Bridges by us, once believed to be true,
now laid to rest in mineralised brine.

Though my desires have long since faded,
small town streets will forever sing your name,
calling, calling, for youth and infant love.
Time may have set, but as with Giza stone

you lay in evidence of what has been.
And now, in years progressed, I tend to this,
my page. Some hungover apology,
for cruelness, that in ignorance, I wreaked.

For, though in my life there is ugliness,
and evil now apparent in this world;
I have learnt through experience, virtue
of kindness, of careful tread upon land.

Oh, mother of Horus, and Christian slave,
you bought me devotion in time of aid.
I'm calling, calling, in meekness undue,
for your sandstone likeness to hold in place.

With time comes erosion, African wind,
to scorch at the kindness, held to your breast.
So, in fear of forced blindness, cynical
waste; I mumble in this dirt-kissed prayer.

God of knowledge, oh God of braying flock,
bring to me your scripture, word of Thoth.
All so I can deliver, all so I
can sing; this tuneless ode of my redress,

this humbled hope for spring.
Just Melz Oct 2014
The written word
Should help us heal
All it does is hurt
By stating what we feel

It's confusing, reading scribbles
Knowing the authors heart
Realizing it means nothing
Typing your soul apart

The ink splashed on paper
Not really meaning a thing
Just random rants
About absolutely nothing

Expressing your heart
Exposing your pain
To the cruelness of people
With nothing to gain

But hurting your soul
And bruising your mind
Someone who expresses truth
Is way too hard to find

In this blank world
Where feelings are condemned
Tears are weakness
It's just better to pretend
Just Melz Jun 2014
The written word
Should help us heal
All it does is hurt
By stating what we feel

Its confusing, reading scribbles
Knowing the authors heart
Realizing it means nothing
Typing your soul apart

The ink splashed on paper
Not really meaning a thing
Just random rants
About absolutely nothing

Expressing your heart
Exposing your pain
To the cruelness of people
With nothing to gain

But hurting your soul
And bruising your mind
Someone who expresses truth
Is way too hard to find

In this blank world
Where feelings are condemned
Tears are weakness
It's just better to pretend
Lane Jun 2016
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.
Angela May 2010
She was the one who shielded me from the cruelness of the world
Taught me how to howl and leap at the dangers that are hurled

She was there on all those sleepless nights
And,we would stay up talking until the mornings light
I learn to be the Alpha ,though she was always Beta
She would shy from confertation, I have learn to bite its throat
And, then sweet victory, I savor.

I also learned down in my heart ,if I must ,I can make it alone
the lone wolf on her own trail,howling at the moon ,never tucking her tail

I want to say thank you for all that you are
And, How I miss those midnight talks , now away we are,so far
But, think of me as I know you do, before you lay to sleep
Look up at that moon and give it a howl, a long one strong and deep
And, I promise Mom, that I will to, give a howl furious
Together always in our hearts.....Now that is Love Victorious!
all i sense is alliance
and all i feel is friendship
all i love is likeness
because an alliance is a kinship
and all i hate is hostile
all that weighs me is war
and all i can't stand is cruelness
i dont know what it's for
it feels better to pass the fist then hurt yourself swinging
Cielo Gebilaguin Dec 2010
There is a note that lives between thought and slumber,
That’s when I thought of you today
A harmonica lay in my hand, the reeds looking at me silly,
Play, I imagined it say, and imagined it was really there.

In my mind we are still walking a dusty bluesy road, our jeans torn and worn
In this midday dream the blues is red and wore a hat; I let out:
This, is not the blues from which my hippie son was born.
I sigh, at the sight of a synthesizer kissing a harmonica, the synth in your head, the harmonica pregnant with my heart.
Our blues drove us to momentary madness, because Syd Barrett was always jealous
Like fights that happened on Sundays and when we choose to mock, then cruelness.
Come midnight someone awakes and someone is being wakened,
And outside, nothing is lit, But she's not afraid, just letting you know she was waking.

Your bedside was colored, certainly psychedelic, but was almost always red
I lay there, like a pregnant harmonica making love to a trusty guitar, the guitar thrusting, the harmonica trusting.

I confront salvation with a straight face, a cigarette now intruding
No, I yell, the harmonica sounds the same, still on the key of C,
But by a synthesizer you sat, the harmonica lay there, heavy with child, looking at me,
And as I stare back, I've seen: indeed you have chosen the synth.

A note creeps in between the high and dry of low, I insist that kismet needs a little shove
Just a push, a new pair of eyes, another heart and a memory that knows only love,
Spiralling in Syd's Milky Way, me drowning, me begging in exchange for you,
I tried moaning a tune but the blues have discolored and turned simply blue.

I face the devil now, I try to bargain, but he sings, 'the blues trusts no one, no longer.'
The devil makes a face, sings to me then says, 'you've forgotten that I'll always remember.”
Kittridge James Oct 2012
Terminally upset,

terminally emotional.

Plagued with multiple personalities,

Plagued with a desire to maintain

my last clutches of scarce sanity.



Brushes with a simple reclusive state,

Slowly but surely morph into

brushes with a razorblade.

Trying to escape myself,

Trying to find a safe haven.



Breaking out of my façade,

Breaking out of the asylum.

Screaming loud, with everything left in me,

Screaming loud, but I know

No one can hear me.



Crying out for her,

Crying out for help.

Falling out of my sorrows,

Falling out of tomorrow.



The world growing increasingly violent,

The world growing eerily silent.

Seeing the cruelness in my last breaths,

Seeing the shards of pain in the shattered mirror.



Suddenly, a pale hand zips the body bag that holds me,

Suddenly, my vision fades to white.

Gently, the music of mourning begins to play,

Gently, my coffin in lowered into the ground.
Just Melz Nov 2014
Think positive

                   Have you learned nothing about      
                   me?


Have you learned nothing of me?

                      -.-

Fire with fire... Questions with questions

                     Smoke with ashes, I'll smother
                       you -.-


After nine lashes, you've nothing better to do?

                      Before your funeral, you've got
                      nothing better to say?


Inhibitions compensated, though so futile. Bury yourself beneath your yesterdays.

                      Trial and error, yet so naive.
                       Through your mistakes and
                       heartaches, you still
                       overcompensate.


Smiling through tears, and tearing through smiles? What do you fear--everything prior, or just one more trial?

                       Been crying through the pain
                        for far too long. I fear...
                       Simply everything, to avoid
                      the hurt, why is that so wrong?


Not wrong, but you hold doubt where hope belongs. Don't wallow in the dirt, or hold on to this morning's dawn.

                       But where I should see hope,
                       there's only despair. I'm not
                       wallowing, simply realistic. It's
                       really not fair, to assume I'm
                       being over dramatic.


Learn to cope when people are unfair. Try hallowing what you know's simplistic. There's much in the air, besides the cruelness of fanatics.

                          But the evil is overwhelming,
                           it truly surrounds me, in my
                          mind and my heart.
                          Sometimes, I can't help but
                         fall apart...


When the Devil is swelling, his doings unruly, and it all mounts on you, know there is kindness. Just part with the bad times and take the goodness to heart.
Just a typical conversation between me and Frank. :)
Thought we'd share.
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Time is nothing new, knowing knots will never be undone
Evil crawls in the minds of man, manifesting itself to be beautiful
Accepting and acknowledging all aristocrats who abuse their power
The world is bland, where a woman loses her womanly flower
Covering each other up, taking out the surface not the root, it’s wrongful
Uncommon is the book, imagination in the individual’s ideal of no fun I sit pondering upon these problems, probing a way into fixing all
When a crumpling crucial crumping sound, roared through the skies TV’s turned on, radios turned up, the Television speaks of trumpets
Couples, church-goers, children cry to the camera “Ready your Caskets” Fire and hail trail to the ground, blood blaze behind, Earth in her demise
People jab and judge each other, nobody understanding the Trumpets first call.
As the people panic in passionate rage and fear Everything is going, diminishing, dying, covered in dirt, grass and trees burning
A second trumpets serenades through savage yells
Mountains begin to burn and fall, along with the church bells
The seas slowly from within spoils into blood curling
Every child glances up joyfully as staircases appear. A ten horned beast raises out of the sea, mouth maliciously open with intent
Scrambling and screaming sub-beasts crawl into an unhinged jaw
It rages and shakes the ten kings hoarding on each horn. Three kings crumble, crash to cultivated grounds, their bodies torn. Blood bathed, entitled; enraged the beast takes earth as its thrall. The people scared, scratched, scraped and tortured bent. Blackened beasts bash past the saints
Looking for sin, sinister civil devils
Trumpet three blows, while sitting upon universal long ledges
The demons demonstrating patience beyond the ages
Hells helpful and hazy corruption seen at different levels
Through mans lounging, Wormwood falls to decide fates. The world is weeping through wasted weaves of wind
Disgusting smell of dead rides the tormented tasteless air
Swallowed by the fourth trumpet, bravely bashing through gusts
To find safe haven upon the throne of tusks
No animal though that tasted the tenacious disease will be accepted in care
They will be banished into the cold forever dark air, where they will shiver and cringe. The world is silent waiting, wallowing for the fifth When it comes Angels, breath beneath the blacken clouds
There striking wings linger as they blow three cornets In the sky, seeping through the soundless sky sails comets
A sight for the still faithful all watch in a crowd
As the comets releases Locusts from beneath. Laying lusciously low in a most lucid state, The ***** Her words wager, weave, win through the minds, falling for false prophecy
Ripping right by the remonstration of being The ***** of Babylon
Woman and Man fall for the words, seeking haven from hell hereon
Adult to child, wishing away her whims, she is the spiritual adultery
No newly made Neanderthal seeing her for the devils zany zealotist abhor. With The ****** lies, breaches the Mother of abominations
The one obtuse and first woman to walk in the Garden of Eden
Human at first, ripped apart, away from innocence; Lilith Haste to Hate, Revenge against the rotting earth, taking away human health
The goal stupendous, shaking sorrowfully, any good is forbidden
For killing is her passion, her art, her own Revelations. The sixth trumpet signals the release of the most dangerous Soldiers
The four enticing beings of end that are released from Euphrates the great water
Their massive army mounting at two hundred million minimizes us
Useless and hopeless everyone allows plagues in their bodies with lust
All people want is death, decaying, disembodied from the soul, without a bother
The ***** still preaching, but not a single being is listening to her false words of a philosopher. In the mix of mist and swamps I continue to sit and scrutinize
Every evil endorsing embassy of hell-spawn
Floating and coating, demoting every satchel of thought
As every defecate of remorse leave me in distraught
My mind is distilled where my initial thoughts are withdrawn I empower the sour cowering stare of the devil’s eyes. I cannot look away, the steady statue stare Embracing escalated enmity, fighting for it not to invade my mind
Never knew cruelness existed and brought beings such delight It covers itself in kindness and caring as it wishes me good night
When wrathful vengeance I awake, to aspire, to find
A torture most terrifying, tossed into twisted tarred souls, my religion I forswear. A game of chess, played between each, no physical state
Dictating the defence, drawing out, hitting, harassing and hackling
Pawn for a pawn, the pound of flesh taken from the absence of attack
Everything twists and twines around each feeble thimble of thoughtless comeback
Devil sends soulless soldiers, crashing crazily through bones a crackling. Finding flirtatious moments to pass the queen into the kingly gate. I have lost; no match made on earth can win with the Devil
Although I lost, I still hold onto faith that in the everlasting end I will be acknowledge by my God, I’ll will be shown care
I sit, sore, scarred, seared of my dignity, I pray
In my mind the Lord’s Prayer is the only way I can defend
I know beyond my brave but bashed thoughts that I kept away from evil. The loudest, most holy, mind clearing trumpet rings
The seventh and ending of the biblical war
A hole rips the sky, rendering useless, entirely beautiful though
Angels dash rescuing the ravaged by faithful souls, protection from beasts below I am avenged, my mind repaired from the unprotected un-releasing pain that I can now ignore
I praise to the Lord, lavishing, laying beside his council of twenty-four of forgiving beings.
Martin Narrod Dec 2016
I hear the crash of the avalanche. Some keep time to its rhythm, there's a lot to do before it hits. I catch the swaying of snowflakes. I can hear the roar of the wind. Before they found benzene rings in the well, I could say who had broken a whole in the oil rig. Some found themselves staring at their faces, picking their destinies away, smoking themselves into a methamphetamine oblivion, until they cleaned the skin off of their faces. I hear the submarines starting in the South Fork, God's Riffle is under, so don't try to join them. Some speak until their lips are the color of bruises, some never speak because they're afraid of finding bruises trapped in their hair. America is spending in darkness. Knowing in foul tradition. Burning at the testicles, and calling in sick. Go home to Wyoming, drink your nuclear family into a white courtroom with a fickle jury of out-of-towners. Be on your best most calm behavior. The denim is up in the air, the snow is coming in shingles, the grizzlies and black bears are choosing which young they ought to hide.

I hear the cruelness of amphetamine users, through and through. You don't want to know them, I don't- I doctor up my circumstances so I don't drive ourselves crazy observing and swerving up and down and off the road. I am the Prince of Bell-Air. I keep my pockets oozing with four colors of black and nothing darker. Something is sharpening the beats of a generation, and no one is calling. Where are my friends in the darkness? I can hear their sides when they cough, but there is nothing like laughing in  glitter, aside from the wildness and toil of this dusk.
the beings who float around in outer space
will never come to reside in this place
they've observed our warring ways
and from them they wish to stay away

they seek a residency of peacefulness
not a planet of ugliness and cruelness
their craft keep whizzing past here
our planet is so wet with so many tears

their way of life is founded on harmony
they are beings who live for amiability
our weaponry would make them so so sad
as they know that they are so very bad

they are ever watching us killing each other
and they'd never do this to their brothers
they believe in the power of dialogue
not of conflict and deadly catalogues

so fear not earthlings about space beings
they are steering clear of all human beings
war fare shall not assail us from space
the beings from space are a placid race
jeffrey conyers Jul 2012
At one time or another.
We all can say.
We seen it.
Even just to fit in.
Or again because it's true.

Whether it's a movie.
Or a crime.
We seen it.

Now rather you wants to admit it.
That's another thing.

We've seen rudeness.
We have witness kindness.
We 've seen cruelness.
And of course.
We have seen love.

So, we should be glad for the things we have seen.

Because it has bought matureness to us.
Fiona Mae Dec 2014
Mom:
You have a pureness to your beauty that you'll never accept,
but I wish you did, you deserve to embrace it.
I  wish that you could see your own potential, and flaunt the beauty you have.

You're the epitome of good, any cruelness you spew comes from your own insecurities, and I know there are quite a few.

You've put yourself on the back burner far to much, and while it's appreciated beyond recognition, learn to love yourself as much as you love the people around you.
You're selflessness is amazing, but you matter too, please remember.

The overflow of emotions that consume me when I think of the love and respect I have for you floods my soul with a beautiful warmth.
Without you I would crumble, you've raised and guided me better then any error-less mother I could ever fabricate.

Nobody could have instilled in me better morals or values than what you have. Nobody was born to have children like you were.
So, I thank you, endlessly and profoundly, for being yourself.
This ones more of a personal thank you, but I thought I'd share with you guys how proud I am of my momma!
the beings who float around in outer space
will never come to reside in this place
they've observed our warring ways
and from them they wish to stay away

they seek a residency of peacefulness
not a planet of ugliness and cruelness
their craft keep whizzing past here
our planet so wet with so many tears

their way of life is founded on harmony
they are beings who live for amiability
our weaponry makes them ever so sad
as they know that it is so very bad

they're ever watching us killing each other
and they'd never do this to their brothers
they believe in the power of dialogue
not of conflict and deathly catalogues

so fear not Earthlings about space beings
they're steering well clear of all human beings
war fare shall not assail us from space
the beings from space are a placid race
I've married the ideas of war and space beings together and came up with this piece.
The scaffolding of the heart falls apart
When our beloved kin quickly depart
A repair kit is sought for the lasting grief
Tears are never ending in their sad stain
The living burdened with years of pain
Wrenched from those caring arms in cruelness
The soul e'er feels the ache of bitterness
To have consolation soothing relief
Always a cavern of dark clouds prevail
A death causes us to constantly ail  
In search of solace we all go looking
A brighter glimmering light regained
The sorrows of loss well ingrained
Our dearest leaving so overwhelming
salvatore Jul 2013
When i met her, she was so afraid of this life and needed someone. like all  this worlds cruelness had caused her being to come undone.
In our start, it seemed so perfect, our future right there to see. I thought we'd  be forever,  in love and live happily.
but then she started changing, taking me for granted, like somehow her heart and love for me had been transplanted.
I have no idea how or why this happened, all i know now is my heart is flattened, her love for me is gone. and all people tell me to do is move on
my love for her just wont go, I just don't see how it could, most people's logic  of love must be very misunderstood.

For if someone you love was to just stop loving you. I'm sure you wouldn't know what to do, your love for them will just stay, causing you pain every single day. all your emotions just black. because you want that connection back. knowing no matter what you do, she will never again be in love with you.

I was a fool to keep in touch, it caused me to hurt too god ****** much, to watch her fall in love with someone else,  It made me want to **** myself,  so nearly two years later,  i thought i would have grown to hate her, but no I still love her to this day, and my heart will forever stay this way, destined to be on my own.  for she is the only love, I have ever known.
J Hass Jul 2016
mistakes were made
along the way
the capricious cruelness
of life
crept in

seeds of doubt
nourished with shards
of pain and confusion
fell on
fallow soil

unwilling to yield
the hard ground
tenaciously guarded
by desire
and hope

two wishful lovers
are blissfully granted
a chance to learn
once more
to trust
Tatiana Dec 2012
Such cruelness,
was injected into our world today,
and we could hardly stop it.
Such vile hatred,
such insanity,
in killing,
in cutting lives short,
especially young ones,
whose journey had only
just begun.
Now they're gone,
gone from their families,
taken from their right,
to live.
Speaking of rights,
if we lose our
right to bear arms,
it will make no difference.
People will still be cruel,
and dangerous,
people will still own guns.
Murdering someone is illegal,
but that doesn't stop sick people from
doing so.
So if we lose our right
to bear arms,
it wont stop people,
from owning guns.
This right is already restricted enough,
anymore,
and people won't be able to protect
themselves.
Just like with what happened,
today,
to the children
and teachers,
they had nothing to defend themselves
with.
Thus resulting,
in a horrific tragedy.
And I pray to God,
that their families can pull through,
because losing a child,
must be the hardest pain
to deal with in life.
And I know they may never recover
from that pain.
But this restriction,
that will harm instead of help,
makes me ask this question.
I live in the United States,
but am I really free?
I know I am asking a rather controversial question in our right to bear arms, but there were many shootings before that were stopped because someone had their own weapon on them, and they ended it before it got out of hand. If our right to bear arms was taken away, it won't stop people from keeping their guns and getting guns, its like the Prohibition, it was cause such a great uproar. Taking away a right that's in the Bill of Rights, is like taking away a natural right that all people are entitled to. The Bill of Rights were created for a reason and we shouldn't mess with them. Now please don't think that I don't care about what happened or that I am not horrified that a person would ever **** a child, because I am horrified in that. I ask the question am I truly free because of the two scenarios, the threat to our rights, and the shooting in the elementary school in Connecticut, if they were really free, then someone might have had a concealed weapon and could have stopped it, because if we were truly free then our right would not be restricted.... My heart goes out to every family effected by this shooting, i'm praying for all of you, because I know what losing someone you love can feel like, and I can only imagine the pain of losing a child... So please God help these families make it through, and remind them that their children are safe in your hands, and that they are always with their families.
Chris T Apr 2013
I waited for hours
On that stool
Watching the ghosts
Pass come and go
Arriving upright
And quiet
Leaving dizzy
And loud
So loud
As if
Trying to shout
So that the cruelness
Of their days get scared
And not come back again
I ordered for myself
A drink
And another
Trying to decipher
This puzzle
They didn’t drink
For fun
For enjoyment
They drank
Same as I
To ****
Sadness
Loneliness
I sat on that stool
For so long
The specters
Unrecognizable
Blurry faces
Buried in mugs
And glasses
Bodies tied in coats
Workman's suits
Smeared makeup
They stank
Of dead dreams
Here’s to
You
Me
And another round
Please
Cheers
Fellow ghosts o' 13thSt.
Jared Eli Sep 2013
His eyes never blink as he watches the scene
Of the desolate landscape below
The recklessness reeks and the actions are mean
And Doc T. J. Eckleberg knows

The cruelness of people whose hearts are undone
By the stark disconnection therein
A fight against apathy can seldom be won
But they simply did not try to win
Yara Mrad Aug 2014
These days seem so empty
Feels like sorrow has gotten to me
Sadness, emptiness..set me free
Layers of rocks stacked over my lungs
Air struggles to get
In
And
Out
Like a thief breaking into a random house
Secretly, silently sneaking
In
And
out
Comes in empty-handed
Leaves charged with guilt, can't stand it
It being the though of having disturbed
The strange soul living inside of me
That feels imprisoned in its own body
Knees tremble, nothing worth fighting for
Giving up on bones, falling straight down to the floor
Tired of carrying all this hope
Cause it's time to let go
Of everything that ties us up and drags us down
Powerlessness is a strong enough sign
That
Money doesn't grow on trees
Karma is really a ***** that can never be pleased
Starving empty stomachs live under the shadows of luxurious villas
Selfishness will soon **** us
Countries are suffering from terrorism
While we limit ourselves to caring about materialism
This isn't a fight to live, it's to survive
From the cruelness that has taken over and strived
Little Bird Jun 2014
There once was a small girl, who sat alone amongst the whispering trees while often pretending she could hear their long forgotten and secretive language
But in truth, she was born with the gift to hear those without a voice, but she continuously remained within the confinement of the mindset "pretend"

They uttered in soft and silken voices, articulated to described to her several things, fastidiously horrible things, things she should have never known given her young years
Those voices, aged and forgotten reached out within her mind and told her the secrets of the universe, told her the sadness, happiness, love and loss, so much it gave that the torrent of emotions was never ending, a continuous tumor within her mind, taking control, as it began to teach her things, but poisoning her mind alongside

In a vapid smoke, they curled around her ears sealing off all forms of escape of their prowess like prey, so they whispered to her the death of her father; how he would soon become swiftly forgotten over a drought of infestation of warlike trials against his demeanor towards life

They Gave her an irrational and incomparable numbing fear

Skittering, they flashed across her eyes, blinding her to compatible thought and knowledge; so they hinted to her the life of a killer; his "nostalgic" and wanton thoughts of lust created from river running blood, the craved lust for the hunt, the predator aspect thriving deep within his veins

They Gave her blood curdling cruelness and desires yet unattainable

Swirling around her mouth they delved deep into her soul, crawling their way down her esophagus like an unwanted virus, spreading; so they told the tale of the one who would claim her soul; how it would be wrenched from within her body and shattered into pure black energy, as she would be used to raise the demons that would penetrate blackness into her thoughts

They Gave her odium and malice

Naturally, she began to grow frightened, abhorrence chilling her movements and as if settling deep into the pits of Tartarus that remained crouching against her diaphragm
stalling her breaths, deprecating her mind of the wanted oxygen, suffocating she stilled


As the ever chilling voices of those trees with their cracking and musty but enthralling voices called to her, bidding her closer into their knowledge and influence, drawing her in
still they forcefully arrived and went, blinding her with their furious powers, battering her mind like a silken lily standing frightened and alone on the top of a lone hill against the forces of a hurricane

Listlessly she listened to the softening crescendo of her lost life within falling and false pretenses, lost
Although she continued pretending she knew the meaning to life within the circus of life in the alternate universes in which she saw within her blinded eyes;
She learned to hate, to become cruel and twisted, with dark thoughts blotting out the sun from penetrating,
creating a briar patch of jagged thorns that built a wall against opposition and reality, for reality was just an illusion now

For the giving tree always gave too much
(Was from my other account, but I don't really use that one, so I just copied it over to here!)
Gary W Weasel Jr Jan 2013
Corruptions exist
    Many of cruelness
    Many of religion
    Many of sickness
    Many of well being
    Many of evil
    Many of peace

Corrupt the soul into acting on anew
Yet the peaceful cannot be corrupted.
The longer the company,
The easier the corruption.
Corruption does not annihilate one trait,
For only it can hide it, to its extend.

Curiosity and the yearning to learn,
Can never be manipulated, only hid.

It's up to the peaceful to uncover
it.
Written June 14, 2002
Andrea Olmos Oct 2017
She wanted the darkness to drown her to make her go to sleep and never wake up.
Her demon in her head was telling her to push that blade deeper into her soul.
He wanted to make the sharpness of the blade dance inside her wound.
Her cold fingers were around his wrist that was holding that wiggling blade.
His small thoughts could not see that he was not just holding the knife but he was also the cruelness of the pain that would peek through her drops of blood.
All of it would end for him: the kisses and smiles, the soft touches, sadly everything that made his terrible dream.
She would escape with his last extraordinary ****** provided by her and crash into her sea of night never to be seen again.
The tears would hopefully wash away some of the blood and then her body would be cold, as cold as his heart.
Happiness was never supposed to be one of her friends anyways but Death would always be that secret admirer stalking her every move.
Suffering from him knowing he would end up killing her sweetly was a pleasurable method of sedation.
Arousing her with delicious lies while laughing in her face, she then realized he was Lucifer himself and she was that naïve half ******.
What kind of woman is she for letting him damage her even more?
Is she kind-hearted for devoting herself to his cruel ways?
Or is she some kind of seductive sociopath not caring if she’s more than cold?
Judgson blessing Mar 2015
Oh sea, eternal sea.
sea of tempest gale .
what gloom of thee i now see?
sorrow of my lost dear hales .
what do i behold with thy gait .
tears and sinister hulk wherever i sail.
for uncountable dreads you nail .
sea tells me the memoirs of your past hails.
sea of great Normandy lost fortune .
sea of old Titanic sadness.
sinister hell for no one to tell the cruelness.
that i deem for long their lost tune .
i hear but their murmur in horrid abyss.
poor of my dream ,no more or a bliss.
sea of eternal time and awful gloom .
sea of Moses magic and Egyptian battalions hell room.
oh,what memoir do i behold of thee.
painful reminisce and arrogance  toss of thee.
sea of Fuller's glory wickedly cast out not  see.
with babe and apron washed ashore .
but where writ encamped into your deep bore .
sea;of you i behold boredom but no lore .
and Fuller i long make my dear lord .
sea of all histories :low and high and Saratoga .
sea of past glory memoir of where did Columbus go.
i hear all ,and Phoenicians past bloom .
but i fear cause your waves sweep like a broom .
oh, our town ,our farm all engulfed .
slayer is Catherine a daughter of sea .
our  green pasture , and our bed of flower ripped .
for my kindred kinsman at Haiti that i cant see.
you court me with fantasy but i behold with horror.
for i dont want my last reminisce of love .
to be linked with thee,thee coldest terror .
all parting is good in likewise all leave .
but tomb stone i will appraise at my depart eve.
oh ,never rested slaughter of of eternal  time.
at Jakarta i see you mark i red line .
your thirst can never be quenched .
in your horror all ,but is cheated .
you are the most sweet kiss .
but i behold with venomous kiss .
Michael Hunter Dec 2012
All I want for Christmas is to see the twenty-fifth.
If I’m being really honest, it’s my biggest Christmas wish!

The Mayans and the Hopis all predict our end is near,
They have made my season, so far, quite devoid of Christmas cheer!

If I could have my heart’s wish, and have it truly come to pass,
The world would keep on turning through its celestial, star-filled path!

Mankind would end its fighting and its cruelness to our earth,
And find some way in daily life to put each other first!

We’d set aside our differences, and all our cults and creeds,
And focus on the surest way to relieve the world’s needs!

We’d make sure every baby, every child, and every man
Was honored and respected in every culture ‘cross the land!

But if it’s true, and life will end as ancient people said,
And all of this won’t come to pass because we’ll all be dead,

Then there’s no harm in starting NOW and doing what we can,
To help improve the earth and skies and love our fellow man!

For just one day, and then the next, and so forth, on and on,
If we can love our earth and kin, a whole new world will dawn!

So Santa, maybe I misspoke on what my wish would be.
I’d rather have a peace-filled world and have it start with me!


Peace on earth, good will to men.


© 2012 Michael Hunter

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