Buddha's hand has five fingers,
And Jesus had five too.

We walk where dead men walk,
And we think with minds of ash.

Pyramids are built for gods,
But lord knows these gods had red blood.

We pray and pray and pray,
The world turns it's head.
The bullets fly,
And words too.
We pray and pray and pray,
The world turns it's head.

Dust and ash for skin,
The bombs will rain again,
****** children and their kin,
So terrorism will not win.

Fight and **** for peace,
Dream while they can't sleep.
Not a sound nor little peep,
As the tanks roll down the street.

Dust and ash for skin,
Christians commit sin.
Rockets screech a prayer
Before killing all the people there.

Despair for the Lord,
March and sing His word,
Fight for Him in His stead,
To ensure his children's death.

Keep poetry
In the clouds above your head
Write poetry
Across the world to make peoples
Think that you are a poet
Love poetry
When u are having good habits
Or compassion
Express poetry
About your feelings happening now
Show poetry
What u are able to do with it
Telling others that
                           POETRY
                                 IS
                       EVERYTHING
  But keeping poetry is what we do today.

                         By K-mari ©2016

I told her I am somebody new this year.
Someone with a story to tell.
Someone with something to write about.

Last year I was a drug addict.
The year before that, I was a drug dealer.
The year before that I lost all my money gambling.
The year before that I tried to be a gambler.
The year before that, my sister picked me up in front of a greyhound station.
I didn't have any shoes.
I was trying to be a hobo.
The year before that I was trying to be an artist...or an alcoholic...whichever one drinks more.
The year before that I dropped out of college.
The year before that I tried to be a college student.
That year.
The year I started writing.
The year my words started to flow.
The year I had a teachers love support me to the point where I left school to go support myself by writing.  
That year, I tried to be a writer.
But I didn't have anything to write about.
And she said, "go try new things."
"Go be somebody new."
"Go be someone with a story to tell"
she told me, "Go be someone with something to write about"

I drove around
My city

I'm not sure why

I enjoy Sunday drives
I won't lie

A man had to
Speed around me

He just had to pass
Couldn't let things be

Then he reached his destination
About a 1/4 of a mile up the road

I am slow today
Like a toad

Attention: roommates
Headphones on
Means stay away

As I enjoy the day

I'm tired of wasting my poetry on you
I can't remember how to write happy.
You ravage my mind. constantly.
Quietly lurking until you attack me
from the inside out
so I sit in the shower, naked
and try to wash the last of you off my skin
as if I can wash your memory away.
No, your ghost digs in,
burrowing deep in my soul
settling in for a long winter
and what am I to do
but bask in the glow of your memory
clinging to the strands of goodness
and let my self be wasted in our past
because it is so much better than a future alone.

rumour has it mirrors shatter
at the thought of you having your fathers eyes
I hope you know that if you're looking for a sign
you might find it tying to choke out one last goodbye
at the end of the night
you'll find it wherever home is
I know you hate the smell of smoke
but cigarettes are all I know
so I'm asking you to put up with it
you have every reason to be furious
but I'm hoping you'll take deep breathes and see
how calm they make my blood stream
and I only started smoking to ease the pain
it was that or a needle to the vein
a bullet to the brain
too much going on up there anyways
it needed cutting out
so cigarettes just made sense
I talk about them in the past tense
but the one between my fingers seems to disagree
open your eyes and see
through all the smoke and mirrors lies me
a double entendre for how things used to be
and how they are currently
the writing is on the wall
in every ****** love song lies a promise
to make the next one stronger
and they keep promising that but the time between gets longer
and all of a sudden the bands broken up
and the symbol of love you used to **** to
is broken like the bond of your parents love
I love you is an apology
forgiveness is given with every similar reply
I love you means that I forgive you
for being broken and for breaking me
because picking you out in a crowded room
is something I've become accustomed to
there is no one else out there who would visit my tomb
and try to apologize for not fixing all of my wounds
god I can't stop thinking about the look in your eyes
on that night in July with fireworks in the sky
the last time I remember you saying goodbye
because I shattered at the thought of you having my fathers eyes

I’ve burnt through so many cigarettes that
my mother would be ashamed of me.
And I could blame my father
for leaving his 100’s by his wallet and keys,
giving me the nicotine for free.

What will it cost him, though?

My lungs were becoming his lungs.
It’s frightening how a vice
turns into an addiction
that turns into an idol
that turns into malignancy.

I watched him hold a lighter.
I watched him hold the cancer between his fingers.

I’m watching him turn into the ash
that fills the ash tray sitting in our backyard.

It’s funny how weak one sees another
when one has overcome a dependency.

Put down the matches,
and give your lungs a break.