We are all torn paper dolls
No sounds we make when we do fall
Could etch into our porcelain skin
How easy paper is to bend
We have been cut and ripped and folded
Dipped into glue mached and molded
I have learned I am not that thin
My will remains though paper bends
I know we all are paper dolls
One by one in line to fall
I thought us weak until I knew
The falls were a choice
Instead I flew

comes not with
bad grammar
or the stammer
       or misplaced i
it's not the
             its for is not
the stymied thought
                    or the common guy

It comes from
the million dollar word
                           to be heard
a life unspent to pay rent

                                   in a tent
and never asking


                                               WHY


SoulSurvivor
(C) 9/16/2015

was one of the first poets
to comment on my work
here on Hello Poetry.

He's a fantastic poet
and has been a friend.

I'm dedicating this poem to him.


*SHORES

i
rise
from
the
limpid
waves

aqua
and
sapphire
the
currents
drag
­at
my
feet

i
have
stayed
on
the
other
shore
long
only
catching
g­limpses
of
a
far
land

but
now
i
am
close
enough
to
see
its
sands­

each
grain
a
diamond
sparkling
in
my
mind's
eye

the
sand
is
di­amond
the
trees
emerald
the
sky
opal

yet
the
shores
i
left
behin­d
are
familiar
and
i've
stayed
there
a
little
while

are
there
fa­miliar
faces
here
also?

the
waves
drag

then
i
see
Him

His
hand­
beckons
on
the
shore
i'm
approaching

He
stands
before
a
multitu­de
of
other
faces

some
i
recognize

comfort
comes

and
acceptanc­e

and
serenity

but
He
will
allow
me
time

time
to
say


goodbye­

They often judge the poet
On the words that he thread
Some readers formed his silhouette
In each poetry that they've read

Judge him not at one piece, else you'll be upset
Because his pen can laughed then can bled
In every second his mind will reset
Truly, you'll never know what's inside his head

In the universe of paper and quill
He can create truth within lies
He can put soul to nonliving
Some of his creations will never die

Every poesy made was alive
Talked of its own tongue
It will definitely survive
Even the poet was long gone



9/23/2015

Mysterious Aries

Tying knots with my tongue in soft seductive prose,
A lying distraction as you tear off my clothes.
Stained body and heart that have long been closed,
Remains all in your hands, naked, exposed.

Trace my scars with your fingertips,
Lace the curves of my spine with your unsullied lips.
Drink from my darkness in slow, soothing sips.
I’ll sink my nails into your skin ‘til your innocence rips.
Hypnotise you with the rhythm in my hips,
Disguise my poison with lust lined trips.

Legs locked around your waist hold like ecstasy,
Shock your mind into a state of dependency.
And undetected I’ll tighten the noose around your neck,
Infected, you’ll idolise this exquisite wreck.
And hold my wretched heart against your beautiful chest,
It’s cold, all emotions have been repossessed.

Confused and feeble you’ll emerge from your stupor,
Bemused as to why my passionate grasp became looser.
You’ll stare down at your feet and watch the blood drip,
Now aware I no longer need this tangible grip,
You see this touch is venom, to penetrate your weak flesh,
Subdue another prisoner into my nefarious mess.

Grave fear; you’ll beg and you’ll beg to be free,
Yet crave incessantly to still taste me.
I’ll behold and admire the damage I've done,
Mould your heart into a trophy that reminds me I've won.

I warned you not to get too close,
I spawn destruction with every lethal dose.