-I-

Adoration-
Somnambulists cast
paradise magic, allowing a thimble to fall
upon the floor of our private heaven
(a perfect disquiet to our loving)

We daily reveal our reclusive
sensitivities, a flash (a lowered head, laughing distinctly)
Trailing close behind German poets/path of devotion, a second summit of their passionate influence, rippling generations ago now:

(vineyards caught by grasping suddenness/placating daytime/fig & flame/false tower of Babel, ornamental ruin/he feels owed the sensations of an active spirit, to repent the contrary forces within him/myself)

-II-
                      & upon my reflection in the Cabaret of Hell,
I see a gate perched at the base of my wondrous
Sehnsucht-apparition

                    BLUE MOON                 WALLFLOWER

(or perhaps the other way around?)

Overtaken by oscillating darkness/hall of mirrors (memories)
distorted flashbulb *** and anger

until the acts become indistinguishable from themselves/doubly
******* tigers brushstroked in animal blood... essence of devour/temper/
captivation, incredible lips, pulp teeth, pure excitement all disfigured
& joyous

-III-

My azzurine goddess, faced away in
shame, no wonder why!

(hair let down in a drowsy spill of
uncertain hours, wavering in a sullen high, thickly feeling,
the immensity/pleasure renounced for a cabbalist subliminity)

Mockery of the dead dead dog/blind in boyhood/while
curious ghosts skate across the ice-peripheral of our dreaming

I feel love, and horror/a frigid hand who's body I have dissolved-
-caressing my back tenderly
bordering terrific malevolence

...Later, in another try at my own eternal return, I find my comfort brother, accompanied by an overhead
divination lantern..

pounding! At the sun skull, for you (my cherished)
are of high order
I tempt soaking the cloth,
to steer the intention

..missing black mass, indulging instead
on feverish Damascus perfume

Splash ramp
down. Flesh, wailing
vampire/poet
hidden by darkly earth to inevitably
decay by their self-solitude

(descent writhes in the milk of heartache
and cusps the night firmly in his *****
withering palms)

I refuse this fate, and
in Western-fashion
fire down the city worshipper which was once
I, too        (unmercifully so)

..burying his bones in the Scottish dirt

Terrarium hydrangeas, pale (yourIrises) lipstick daggers
slashing in the white sleeve-
red with epicurean
baptism

-IV-

Big bad wolf
banished to his hole,
I kiss the winter fruit clean from your mouth (succumbing to pinnacles of fire/your lost domain) ******* on pebbles, trying to crack through the surface
like a dragon's egg for pride
(big bad wolf is hungry)
We wear away the season, memorizing the newspapers
which are tossed carelessly to our door. Ah, the kitchen ballet dancers are finally tired..endowed to the triplicate beauty
that we individually define (takes a bit to get there)

You/I privileged to ******* Venice with our mutual
imagination,                              owing to Calvino

To crave eachother
as an Acrobat craves the

trapeze

The eye of the hurricane
Swept through a country side
Not batting an eye
All those in it's path perish
A mosque, a person, a Muslin
Another, another, another
Until 49 were gunned down
Killed
Executed
And many more injured
Scarred forever
in·dis·crim·i·nate·ly
A finger on a trigger
Held steady
Unmercifully
Picking targets
To cries and screams
With no regard for life
Only for the shooter
To make a name for himself
His message board
His manifesto
His hate of immigrants
Muslims
Leaving in it's path
Bloodshed
A country's darkest day
His infamy
Who is this individual
The eye of the hurricane
Sitting in the middle
Teetering to the right
An extremist
Category of the worst kind
A patch of ******
Sitting in his landscape
Of his sunken mind
Incarceration
Laughing, laughing, laughing
Today, today, today
And this was his trigger
His devil
His dialogue
Today he spoke
Another, another, another
To cries
That echo
Forever
Long after the hurricane
Loses its tail
This makes me sick
I look up in the sky and ask why

Logan Robertson

3/15/2019

Heavy Metal Lovers


A rolling stone gathers no moss the only time I was good at something all it took was four wheels
And you could be a Genius I guess the wheels gives it away this isn’t about bad boy bands heavy
That broke many a levees of the mind but it is inextricably wound together with music and how apropos
To write about it today when the music of all heaven was called to silence and then a whole lot of
Shaking began When **** Clark walked through the gate don’t waist it just taste it it’s all right to be
Burly and squirrely “Get lost in the rock and roll” amp it up Bob Seeger everything comes with rules
There was time before Elvis but it still applied cool cats had one command be cool don’t break the
Jackson rule of Cool Square is not the fit you want to project oh the sixties the place the strip in
Hollywood the car an Austin Healy convertible if they even had hard tops which I doubt reading Michael
Canes auto biography he spoke of him being there I didn’t see him but he got swallowed up by the
Great beast it flowed out of those clubs into the street the sidewalks full of hot babes and cool dudes
We were so low it was like you were on the payment it even got into the act there was a raw energy
That electrified every ounce of your being it rose out of the payment and cruised those Hollywood
Streets plus every street in America felt its heat and heard it s roar red cherry glass pack mufflers
Then songs took up the anthem I had fun fun until my daddy took my T bird away shutem down GTO Jan
and Dean’s Drag City, Dead Man’s Curve, The little old lady from Pasadena and many more but the king
of cars that held the title was held by no other than the Cobra we were a couple of brazen GIs with a
Seventy two hour pass we met the enemy at a stop light the Austin Healy sounded so throaty in that
Southern California night air and we lived the song do you know the way to San Jose LA isn’t nothing but
A bunch of old freeways we would roar up the entrance to the ten the Malibu highway the Five to Dego
The 710 to long beach and the Queen Mary this southern California kid from Compton a suburb of LA
Was giving me the grand tour Disney and Knox berry later in the day the big sad Walt had just died
And then there was this monster next to us it was towering before we felt so continental a slight British
Smugness as we drove this fine European sports car but when the lion roars your purring becomes a
Little puckish it was bulging in comparison we were like a joke your mother won’t let you have a real car
What did they paint the light red how many shades of red did we turn as we set in this shadow of green
Paint and death for any idiot that tossed out a challenge when he took off it was like our car was
Wearing a smug British suit and the force he generated when he accelerated tore every stitch off down
To just underwear praying the smog would quickly envelop us the rest of the way didn’t happen so you
Do what anyone does you choose the less of two evils and rattle on about how they put Porches engines
Into VW bugs like who cares why is one of those suckers behind us well they are cool and this is about
Cool cars you could always tell them by the tail pipe instead of a round rifle barrel it had a wide round
Funnel at the end like the old blunder bust guns of the colonists then an era and times needs a voice
The male was a mix of Lou Rawls and Berry white doing the singing but also any time introduction was
Needed Aretha took care of the female side Jimmy Hendrix took care of the instrument on his
Supernatural guitar Hugh Masicali African Jazz drummer follow the beat every teen Idol was making
The girls swoon then you add in the mix the American auto chrome and steel dreams see the heat rising
Flashes that were blurs running wide open filled with teens and thrill filled screams and then there was
The exit and the entrance there was a royal distinction that rubbed off on its occupants the cool look
And clothes and hair for both sexes dreamy stars in all places not just the bright lights of movie magic
For girls it was they rode well but if they took the wheel this sealed the deal how can you add curves to
Curves they had the saying your blowing my mind man it in toned them as perfect inter changeable the
Womanly softness the interior the lines outside truly defined you are in the presence of qualities that
Run deeper than just the surface you see so much more how blessed when both car and women
Continually amaze you think you discovered everything oh foolish one you just stepped into another
Power zone that was built in at creation somehow the car was somewhat accidental but the woman’s
Was on purpose cheating would cease to a great extent if the truth was only known you got more
Excitement than you will ever know and for the man let him step out rise to his full height there is
Something sweeping and grand about it how could it be any different muscle and brawn distinction
Used as in art subtle but by being so it is so telling appeal runs no stronger and it effects effortlessly
Adds maximum benefit and joy girls find it unmercifully enjoyable packaged like fine wine in a wooden
Box with straw in other words perfected delivery of romance simply a soothe that washes over you
With lasting ramification the golden straw has glistening particles as well as star dust that make other
World tastefulness abide in two lives equally shared so drive into the setting sun in your own heavy
Metal dream that we love so well

A lonely bead of sweat rolls
from his widows-peak and tumbles
down the center of his forehead.
It comes to an abrupt stop,
resting on the tip of his nose.

He doesn’t even notice - he’s too
distracted futzing with his chair.  
The bead clenched on with
all of its might and then finally
succumbing to gravity, it hits
the floor. SPLAT!  

His lips become tangled in a web
of frustration.  Gooey, white,
cotton substance evolves in the
corners of his dry mouth.  His
tongue slithers out and scoops
up the milky residue.

Purple, worm-like shapes
protrude around his
temples and forehead.
His face begins to glisten, and his
white dress shirt looks like a
wet napkin.  He’s unmercifully at
war with his chair.

Finally the chair surrenders...

He sits down, tilts his head, and
uses his right forearm as a towel
to soak up the now-noticeable beads that
are slowly working their way towards
his thick, bushy brows.

His attention turns to the stylish, black
case that lies by his side.  The audience
members shield their eyes as the
beams of the stage lights are captured by
the curves of this beautiful tomb.

Eagerness pumps through
my veins as he reaches down
and unbuckles the case, gently
removing his instrument from its vault.

Heavily antiqued with a moderate
amount of crazing, the wood grain is
perfectly marred with its perpendicular
grooves. The colors are warm with a
golden brown tint just like his skin.

He rests the violin on his
lap and leans the bow against
his right thigh.  He takes a few, deep
breaths to perfect his posture.

His belly begins to recede.

His chest puffs out.

His shoulders slightly roll back.

His spine becomes *****.

He places the violin under his chin.
With his left hand he holds the neck,
gently pressing his fingers into the
strings.  His right arm soon follows,
bringing the bow to a quick and
delicate stop a short distance below
where his fingers lie.

Suddenly everything becomes silent.

He stares over the heads of those in
the audience, not making a single
move.  He’s in a trance-like state,
like a crocodile at a river bank
patiently waiting to lunge at a
wild boar.

Then, without warning, he strikes the first note!

His body jerks forward, backward,
left-to-right, moving around in all directions,
like a crazed man trying to undue his
straightjacket. He clenches his eyes with all
his might and puckers his lips, trying to hold
in the emotions that are imprisoned, but he can’t.  
A single, victorious tear escapes from the madness.

As the music further consumes him, he plays
faster and faster. Each note takes him higher
towards the heavens. The bow pierces the hearts
of the angels and the gods, bringing them together.
Tightly gripping one another’s hands, they begin
to waltz.
  
They dance on a thick stage built from the prayers and
dreams of mankind’s wickedness.  Even the beast
from below is dancing.  An arm reaches down into
the depths and pulls him up to join the gathering.  
She grabs his hand and waist, spinning him around
until he becomes dizzy and falls backwards.  
They both laugh and begin to dance again
for all eternity.  





I lean forward and turn the ****
counterclockwise, eliminating the commercial
that follows the song he just played.  I look
over at him and tell him he’s one a hell of a
performer.  He humbly replies, “Thank you.”  
We continue to drive and listen to the radio.  
I couldn’t wait for his next performance.

You notice the browning leaves,
Early victims,
In midsummer
Late July and August
And they parallel our love
Crisping stale edges
Edging inward
Inward to where growing used to be
I blame the sun
The sun of truth
Blasting unmercifully on our greenness
And returning us to the soil
Of amorous compost.

The dark and devilish nature of her words



Strike my soul with bone crushing impact



Delivering me to unfathomable heights



Soaring beyond valleys of unspoken truths



I swear I could feel the searing pain secreting



From the puddles of ink unmercifully *******



From within her little black pen of revenge



A cold, hard case of poetic justice iced my veins



Slashing fiercely through the tender tissues of my heart



Leaving a dreadful scar of excruciating scorn



Forever embedded in what was once a sacred home



It was as if a voodoo ritual was taking place



Possessing every inch of my flesh successfully



Soaking my skin with tsunamis of fear



Compelling my body to dance with the spirit



As I danced to the rhythm of the drums



A cloud of smoke was blown to distort my vision



In the wake of the smoke I began to hallucinate



The image of a **** harlot equipped with a machete



Appeared before my eyes taking me by surprise



Ready to slaughter and **** all who oppose her



And rob them of their oh so precious manhood



She pressed her lips against the blade then blew a kiss



The kiss caressed my lips with the taste of honey



By the swift blow of a gentle breeze she was gone



When I returned from this coma of entertainment



A severe addiction was unmistakably evident



My taste buds craved for more of this woman's literature



I had fallen victim to her powerful hex of poetic justice





By Glenn McCrary





© 2011 Glenn McCrary





(All rights reserved)

Angel’s Visit

An angel talked with me in what is probably one of the earth’s most beautiful places we were in
Honolulu at the Hilton Hawaiian village I was in bed it was about three in the morning I love to explore

Many things and a great time is during the night watch which is hard when you love to sleep like I do
But the excitement of the Islands makes you a light sleeper I looked over by the window we were on the

Twelfth floor that’s best for the view all over Honolulu but it’s a long way from heaven but there she
Stood I can’t explain the gender we all assume angels are male not so she wasn’t the angels you hear so

Much about being seven feet tall and muscular no she was normal size and she did have dazzling golden
Curly hair and as I recall her gown was at least a shade of gold she didn’t have a message but a question

Do you have a bible for the Islands? This paradise of earth where Pineapples, Papayas some of the most
Grand exotic foods and sites to visit she wasn’t interested in that as another angel spoke to me in

Anaheim and for this reason I don’t fear for our country the last lines of Imposter says not my words
But what the angel spoke “Land of light continue Miss Liberty your lamp burning bright” Heaven’s

Messenger still credits the U.S. as a light for a dark world although that was fifteen years ago and we
Have slipped and need to right ourselves to fulfill our promised destiny the Hawaiian angel could have

Spoken of many things the turquoise waters the trade winds waterfalls all wonderful in them selves
But heaven’s interest is always people I wrote Dreamer for the physical Hawaii but her question

Concerned the word of God that will give you more than physical paradise it will give you a spiritual
One the mirror shows the physical truth whatever it is the bible does the same but with the exception

It gives a remedy all of us are plagued with ugly habits and ways come to it as harlots and murders have
And be changed to saints incorruptible every dark spot and all that makes us unattractive receives a

Divine Make over your life becomes the abounding borders of paradise no matter where you live or your
Circumstances who doesn’t resent things about ourselves and past mistakes within its cover is

Forgiveness grace and most importantly of all is the ability to truly change everything is changed
You are made brand new the gift and treasure that you are and that suffered disfigurement is restored

Your life is not pie in the sky it is real the increase of value can never be calculated remorse will beat you
Unmercifully the master has the perfect healing of body and soul it not foolishness but it will make you

Wise trouble is still the lot of the human family but you will have a heavenly father to take your hurts to
They had the old saying sticks and stones will hurt me but never words what falsehood outward scars

Heal where inward injuries never heal and can ******* your life rob you of love and peace that belongs to
You come as little lost sheep to the healing resplendent waters that are springs in a dry land the Bible

Has those springs and the balm of Gilgal that will treat your every hurt to many times our best friends
Are held at arm’s length we don’t and can't trust even them and at times they offer

Love but are otherwise empty without answers our country and freedoms are just a beautiful guide post
That more so than anywhere in the world shows how good life can be your just steps from all you will

Ever Need return to the faith of our fathers and pray and surrender and God will send his Holy
Messengers to heal your life and bring this country into perfection as its course was first chartered
When it began why live a defunct miserable life at the very gate of plenty

Consideration took into account
Conditions to be deliberated
Planning in advance
Kept a count

Their intentions set in mind
Way ahead of time
If compassion, were to be
Handed out

Sympathy checked in with feelings
Seeking out the strongest surge
While sorrow and misfortune began reeling
Within an
Empathetic urge

Frightened panic cried out in dismay
At sympathies fearlessness
While unkind words unmercifully
Shook the day

Centuries far ago
In the African state of Congo
Trespassed by the heartless whites
Civilizing the blacks, against their rights

They invaded them under a false pretence
They shattered humanism’s true essence
Several men decayed, as malnourished
For being skinned in charcoal colour they were punished

The invaders sowed the seeds to racism
It grew larger using euphemism
It all spread like a malicious talk
Darkness bowed when the white flesh would walk

Subjugated with iron chains the slaves marched
With empty stomachs and throats parched
Killed unmercifully if they refused a task
After all, the devil resided behind the white mask
They looted several nations
Leaving behind schools and railway stations
But who would benefit from development of this kind?
In the darkness, hearts had turned blind

Oh, one day back then it all changed
Hearts pumped louder through the ribs that were caged
Unleashing those iron chains they chased;
Till those heartless masters felt disgraced

The dark cloak of slavery burnt to dust
While freedom of sunshine sparkled on all the rust
Each enslaved human fought for what is right
No one could dare to break their might

Blood was shed on both sides
But they didn’t cease their stride
Back then they made them flee
But those racist seeds flew across seas

The darkness never prevails
From one land to another it sails
Only the goodness in one’s soul,
Can take the darkness for a toll!


-Zainab Attari

I don’t like the ant
Or that is to say
There is something about them I don’t like
They are unthinking
They lay chemicals at dawn
And don’t stop searching until night is strong
They are unthinking
Moving unmercifully
The hive mind their meaning that I despise
Something about them
This ant will never know freedom
In nature
This worker ant both night and day
In nature
Being for the benefit of the queen
There is no laughter
Not in the cities
Not in the sprawling farms and endless roads
There is no laughter
Just hands hardened by toil
On cast iron tools and heavy machines
I don’t like the ant
They are unthinking
They searching blindy restless legs forever seek
With no imigination
The ant is just a slave
A slave who doesn’t want freedom

They are unthinking

The ant will never know laughter
In nature
The ant is just a reminder
In nature

Entities of Reality stalk haunt humankind
Teasing unmercifully promising in person
A plain brown package; The Mind’s Eye;  Pandora’s Box.
Desire disguised as a need, want, or a trophy.
Consciousness trying to escape the emptiness.
It doesn’t matter;  How can we rise above, transcend it?

It doesn’t matter;  We’re all going to the same place someday.
It doesn’t matter;  We’re all going to Heaven anyway.

The tears won’t stop?  Call them Tears of Joy;  Gratitude.
Make promises to get what you want, then wait to see.
Pretend to be Happy;  Joyful;  Hiding the Pain.
Make jokes!  Laugh your way through the heartache!  Look happy!
Want it?  Take it!  Don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth!
Feeling guilty about it is unproductive.
Saving Grace;  Just Passing Thru;  Get Out of Jail Free!
It doesn’t matter;  Unconditional Forgiveness.

It doesn’t matter;  We’re all going to the same place someday.
It doesn’t matter;  We’re all going to Heaven anyway.

Despair, Distress, Hopelessness;  An Undeserved Mess!
What’s in it for You?  Recognition?  Salvation?
Generosity;  Curiosity;  Doesn’t Pay!
Return it!  Get a Refund!  Just use it, don’t buy!
Redemption; Reconciliation; Justified;
It doesn’t matter;  Give it back: Return To Sender

It doesn’t matter;  We’re all going to the same place someday.
It doesn’t matter;  We’re all going to Heaven anyway.

you’ll never feel the bite of pain
that tears the skin from bone
nor the aching loneliness that
scares the heart from home
the absoluteness that leaves a hole
where nothing is able to hide
while driven by the loathing
birthing a life to the love inside
no matter what the circumstance
you can’t negate the absolute horror
of wanting what is begged for
there is no returning the honor
I’ll whip my self unmercifully
until the end of a perfect day
even while you subjugate me
my scars upon myself just say
how much you intended to deny me
all twisted parts upon me are a whole
crisscrossed upon my body are the marks
that give you access to my soul

You ask us to follow You
To fracture the foolishness that unmercifully undermines us
Why are we persistent in our poisonous pride
And obdurately grasp the darkness that destroys us
The deafening depression, the hardened hatred, the conflicting chaos
When You are the light that gives us hope
The One who can bring us back to life
You create wonders out of nothing
Surely You can make something out of us
What You have to offer is so much more
Than what we must relinquish

When I was 5 I started to put sharpie or pen on my nails to make them black.
And I even recall on one instance where I put mascara in my hair to give myself black streaks.
I now want black stiletto nails, and I know that many others have them, or even just paint their fingernails black.
And it makes me think, black is such a beautiful colour and yet we put down and make fun of the people of that colour.
They can't change it, and they shouldn't have to feel that they must.
Being another colour than white shouldn't be a day to day burden or task.
It should make you feel beautiful and blessed.
But not everyone sees it that way.
It's a shame really, you see so many superb black men and women that stand out in this day and age and community.
And it has been that way for centuries.
Giving us all music to move to and lose ourselves in, books to read (perhaps more than once), movies to watch and adore, and many other things.
And yet people don't realize, they're just HUMAN.
Not having a choice of what pigmentation their skin is.
Being beaten unmercifully, and some being prosecuted not from their actions but because people have come to terms that all of that colour perform the same cruel acts.
Stereotypes;
It's not fair and I refuse to live in a society that is so mean and brutal.
Be nice to people regardless of their skin, the look or feel of it.
Be helpful to those in need regardless if others wouldn't because they have different views than you.
I'm not saying this little collection of words will change the world.
But I'm letting it be known that I myself will not be spiteful towards others that have not been to me.
Just because their skin may shout out because it is darker than others, it doesn't make them less of a person.
You don't want people to be put in boxes and yet you categories them, making them feel small and wrong.
We have come such a long way, not just for this subject but for others.
But I want my voice to be heard and my opinion to be stated.
And for others to not be so crass and quick to judge.
People are people, and deserve to be treated like it.

Before the UK Election
Those Tory Trolls slagged off
The Labour Leader
Jeremy Corbyn
Unmercifully –
Dredging up his distant past,
Turning his heroic quest for Peace in Northern Ireland
Into an act of alleged “treason”
And much more.
They painted a grim grey scene.

But like King Arthur and his gallant knights,
Corbyn unsheathed his own Excalibur:
That mighty thing called “Hope”.
He offered us all a brighter future,
Except perhaps for the greedy rich,
To sweep through the enemy ranks
Upon his horse, “Momentum”.
Once more to the breach…

And as the opinion polls swing
More and more in his favour,
Victory for Labour
Is only a matter of time.

Paul Butters

A balcony underneath a blanket of stars,
Any other night and it may have been beautiful.
Fearing the unknown; not really knowing what it is I fear.
Standing at the edge of a precipice-
Wondering, waiting for fate’s hands to guide me over the edge,
Or to drag me back into my blinded distrust
Where soothing words smother uncertainties.

Prepare yourself; a thousand questions to which there are no answers,
Only a deathly silence, a blank face, unquestionable-
There is a fine line between eternal slumber and death,
And through the eyes of another I face both.
In darkness, time unmercifully lengthens- in sleeplessness,
I ask myself over and over and over,
But the wind’s whispers are too quiet to hear.

So many others relish the relief of the unknown,
Alone I stand, able to see through their grimaces.
Through self-indulged abandonment have I dug my own grave.
I left you in his healing hands; judgment and doubts aside.
Each marked stone bears the signature of your remembrance,
To all of these days I have walked upon the earth.
Convince me, tell me and take me away from this precipice-
Back into your awaiting arms.

21.09.2010
Anna Elizabeth Rose ©

The ice
Beneath our feet
Is very thin
Our hearts
Are covered
By skin
We assume
The facade
Will hold
But the water
Below the ice
Is very cold
And the distance
Between life and death
Is very slight
The net
Beneath our lives
Is for black, brown and white
Life
Below the net
Is death
We walk
Watching the cracks
Measuring each step
We fly
Assuming the net
Is there
We fall
Much too fast
Into despair
Paycheck
To paycheck
A wing and a prayer
We smile
And laugh
As long as it’s there
Too small
And powerless
For a bail-out
The poor
Suffer through
A trickle-down drought
But I
Who has much
But not enough
Seemingly secure
With a full plate
Life’s not too tough
Yet fear
Lurks beneath
The surface
The thin line
Wraps my mind
Like a graceless necklace
Choking my emotions
As I look down
And see
The reality
While my children
Still believe
In me
The membrane
Between life and death
Unknowing my fears
In myself
And life’s short breath
As each day
I exist
For them
For their future
As adults
So they can begin
The cycle all over
And walk
The ice
As I did
Hoping they remember
My advice
To avoid the cracks
And not look down
And let fear
Rule their minds
Or their hearts
Instead drawing near
Strength
From whatever source
To live graciously
Towards those
Who fell
Unmercifully
Through the ice
Beneath their feet
And plunged
Into the dark
Cold
Expunged
From society’s
Conscience
And memory
Losers
With no redeeming
Quality
Except for in the minds
Of those
Who were taught
To love
To care
In every thought
Because
Their father's fears
Brought forth
A simple message
For a simple life
And what was worth
The worries
Or the pride
Or the mistrust
In life
In our leaders
And the unjust
Yes
They will peer
Through the ice
And feel the beating heart
Through the membrane
And will hold no vice
Against life
Or themselves
Or another
Knowing the cracks
Beneath their feet
Are not solely reserved for their brother

Sometimes when people can’t see you for whom you are,
They try to force you to be someone you really aren’t.
Real beauty is being true to oneself, Not by trying to be someone your not
A flower cannot change its color nor can Spring become Fall.

Don’t lose the person you really are
Because you are you and only you;
The mold was broke when they formed your star
Cheer up young one don’t be blue

I once knew a boy who always bought shoes two sizes larger,
Because he couldn’t bare the ridicule of having small feet.
You see, when you were conceived, genetically you became one of kind.
There’s no else like you, and believe it or not we all have physical imperfections.

Don’t lose the person you really are
Because you are you and only you;
The mold was broke when they formed your star
Cheer up young one don’t be blue

I once knew a boy who was thin as a stalk of corn,
And he if turned sideways and stuck out his tongue, He looked like a zipper.
He would get teased unmercifully, but if he had done just one think different,
Because when you laugh at your own flaws, disparagement and criticism are defeated.

Don’t lose the person you really are
Because you are you and only you;
The mold was broke when they formed your star
Cheer up young one don’t be blue

**Happiness doesn’t depend on any external conditions,
          it is governed by our mental attitude ~Dale Carnegie

earlier
when the sun woke me up
I decided to take a morning shower
in your endless despair

I unfolded
between the delicate creases
that the storming waves
had built up around you

you caught me riding your wave
and unmercifully, you thought
you would drown me
since I was drowning anyway

choking
on your salty sea water
became my daily dose of *******
my comforting shelter

as the ocean having unlimited power
I kept on stumbling
underneath
your bleached layer of foam

Now I am cleaner
than a drug addict after *******
my spirit finally clearer
than the ocean wind
only weeds still tangled up in my toes

How fun, to play the devils advocate at every branch.
You flex perspective but come off inconsiderate,
but isn't that a matter of absolute imminence?
When does one truly cross the line of incompetence?
See you could never make everyone happy,
I've learned this!

So as you play pacifier to society,
about the time you make your way across this over developed nursery.
The dominos... Well they will begin to fall!
Crashing down in this pure chain reaction of human displays of art.
All crying out to be heard,
All with eyes swelled so deep they resemble reservoirs.
See any one can be a hero in an instance,
I've learned this!

But watch as faces change when the hero calls for a savior.
Pay the favor back, a man asks to an empty sky,
Pleading... I've saved so why can't I be saved.
The notion of selfishness over rules selflessness,
I'm starting to question if it even exists...

Now time stands still in moments of hopelessness,
And hearts will break when the devil wakes!
Self actualization storming my consciousness,
We want to be seen as Gods looking down at our children,
The ones we saved...
But how do we validate our savior complex when the ones we saved, saved us...
Really you can truly help someone within an instance,
Don't misconstrue, I believe this, I do...
But whose to say a good act could ever live on into the infinite.
The pacifiers, they all fall with mouths dropped in awe,
Am I ungrateful to be given this position of playing God?
Why does my passion call for revenge when my heart calls for condolence,
Utterly twisted, what makes sense definitely mustn't be me...
Imagine being at the bottom of the abyss but being too proud to reach for a rope that assist.
Now whose to fool the trickster himself,
when all I see is how we cling desperately to validation, affirmation and recognition.
Well I don't need it, no I'm not that petty.

To be honest, to be disgustingly truthful,
I wanted to be seen as God when I pushed that man out of the way,
Self sacrifice played sweet delusions that put my own self importance at bay,
I sat there measuring what it truly means to be worthy of transcending this human mold,
Honestly I wanted him to cry in his new fathers arms.
This lease of life I co-signed with one swift motion and here comes the car,
Fury erupts in a soul that was long corrupt before given my choice.
These are the moment where I confided my fears of being human,
I wanted to be God but I could only live so long in this angelic delusion...

I watched from afar and saw as the man I saved grew,
My child was dismal in hope,
And he grew, oh how he grew but I wasn't proud of his development,
No, I saw evil shaking behind his eyes,
Begging to be released,
Tortured souls mutilated into figures bounded by destiny...
See I watched him grow, my child, the man I saved,
Saw him do unspeakable, disgusting things...
Now I plead to my past self,
Screaming besides reality,
The one who could have never known,
This weight is unbearable and my knees are faltering!
I stand now calm before the storm,
Wise as all hell but cynical to the point of corruption,
I saw too much and now my soul it cries,
The boy who once dreamed to be God now can't even be human,
He was robbed of that right with guilt overcoming him,
Now his eyes are these cold, stone-like marbles,
And his soul can no longer be seen,
With darkness becoming of me...

...

Once though it seems so long ago,
This soul resembled a crimson light,
And burned bright as all hell,
igniting passion and will to fight,
Then came the great dim,
Now no longer do I burn infinite,
I protected myself within oh so sweet delusions,
Muffled this roaring, all powerful flame that was my soul until it resembled a mere candle,
Flickering ever so dimly.
I use to burn with the intensity of the sun!
And now, now I was just no one but a victim of circumstance.
As I grew numbness became of me,
And I sought an escape in an immensely cruel reality,
Fate was all too unmercifully and with it now ruling me...
I knew I could never break free from the chains of destiny,
The silver winds that follow me,
The constant whistle ringing in my ear,
I was now, what I was not before,
awake and aware to this candle burning method that is my soul,
Mirror images display a candle burning at both ends,
And we all knew that this could never last,
So why must we pretend?
That the boy who played God could ever truly feel human again...

The morning sun slowly rises
Above the great white mountain peaks.
The cold wind blows unmercifully
Through the vast deserted valleys
The trees creek and moan
Under the immense pressure of the wind

As quick as the snow began
It now ceases
Lulling the landscape into a hushed silence
The wind has died
The falling snow no more
The tranquil scene lay untouched
In front of heaven's door

How much longer will this tranquillity go undisturbed
How much longer till nature awakens

Soon in the distance
A chick-a-dee is heard
Then a roaring bobcat
Nature is slowly unfolding
Her graceful wings of life

As the day passes
And the sun climbs higher
In the deep blue sky
The snow begins to melt
The brooks begin to bubble

What lives behind your eyes is a sea of mystery to me
I chose to take a dive
swimming through blackened history
I try to wash away the pain and distain
The hate that life deals unmercifully
but I admit regretfully your tides crash in so far from me
and I know you'll never heal nor listen to an outsider like me

I never quite understood how it would be to yearn for someone until the cruel distance snatched you from my very arms.
Nights seem darker than they once were and the loneliness was unmercifully relentless. The absence of your presence made my every waking moment a battle which I pray to survive from.

I never quite understood the meaning of the word miss until your presence feels almost lost in the thin and hot air of my everyday.

I never quite knew or thought I would ever understand the meaning of complete until you left us for what was promised momentarily. I despise each breath I inhale without you being there breathing the same air.
I loathe distance for it has the power to take my very being and question its vitality.
I hate time for never giving me enough of it for the times you were there next to me and for torturing me with too much of it for each second that I am without you.

I never quite understood the meaning of you; until you took my cocoon I so dependently attached myself to. And left me without you, which almost seems like depriving a human being without the gift of life itself.

All I understand now is the meaning of wait. Which is all I know to do and will forever do, for you.

He walks gracefully like the sun
You can not help but marvel at the sight of the tufts dancing on his forehead
His countenance pierces into your ***** and tickles your insides unmercifully
The ebony stars in the highest kingdom long for his attention, with him, there is no compromise, either he faces your dirges aptly and revives the bits of what-so-called hope, or he does not look at you at all.
No, you would not understand unless you see him, but beware the maze of his eyes, for I tell you..
My placid atoms rest like ember and every bit I have left of pride declares its obeisance.
His outburst of loud laughter makes the goddess of beauty mutter out of envy, and the distorted harmonies of my own seek refuge in between his eyelids, like the diffused light rays run into the twilight zone.
But listen, love
out of all that you are, all the sacred paeans chanted by your name, all the symphonies that you dress in, the land within your ring, the silence you stand amidst, all the birds, the tunes, the melodies, all the chocking sounds and all the ominous insecurities, all the serene electric waves, all this bafflement I could not comprehend nor the seraphs would comprehend
Out of all that you are
all what you are
is the annihilation of a bullet
that leaves pansies where it's shot.