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 Mar 2010 Zenobia
kayla morrison
Oh wasted talent, neglected excellence,
how you enter the light every day, always leaving a black abyss
full of attitude, and rude remarks, offensive words that sting
long after you’ve crept back into your world of tenebrous isolation
we feel the effects, like a wave of negativity

you position yourself south of everyone comfortably north
repelling love, and understanding, but you’re not lonely
No you’ve found the ultimate alternative,
An imitation reality, like McDonald’s food,
Never quite  able to equal greatness, nothing worth praise, almost a waste
A great façade, a fake

Your glossy eyes and lethargic mannerisms tell all
Higher than life, Psh you don’t need us!

But don’t you know? Weren’t you told?
There’s a better way to get high,
why not… … take a drag of the cigarette of friendship,
or a hit of creativity?
These things will far surpass the boundaries of ecstasy

But no,
you sit
and you sleep
senses dulled
eyes glued shut
you reside complacent in a prison to which only you hold the key!

Don’t you know the greatness you could be?
I do because I can see, past the cloudy eyes,
beyond the stinging comments,
I can see the successful well educated man you continually refuse to be.

It hurts and pains me every day getting up from my seat taking the world away,
and on the desk where you used to sit,
is a pile of class work and lessons, that you call *******.

stop now, before the poison penetrates too deep,
save the dying man,
the long list of what you could be
times are tough and temptation is hard to fight,
just remember that salvation is close and it is in sight,
Ask for help and you shall receive,
let in the light and shut out the fog,
not one inky hint should remain,
time is running low, and faith is hard to find….
just once, sincerely try to open your eyes,
take advantage of the time that you have left
because when this years over,
it will be time well spent.
Exposed to the starlight,
stripped bare by the moonlight.

It is a conscious stream
of those living the dream,
unfolds me origamically
with every beam.

These tears on my face--

I cannot hide.
Where time and space
eventually collide.

They pry open my soul
exposing a sweet sunshower.
They strip me to bone
within the hour.

I fall like Icarus,
where my wings have failed.
My feet land firm on Neptune

the moon and stars hath prevailed.

Where symphonies of light
will do what they'll do.
As for me--

What a view! What a view!

 Feb 2010 Zenobia

© mpijanowski

We come into this world,
thriving to live and learn,
and as each day passes,
it’s experience that we yearn.

For what is life?
Is it that which we can hold?
Or is it memories and knowledge,
and things we were told.

For we store in our minds,
the dreams of yesterday.
Sharing those thoughts
and hope they will stay.

But after we’re gone,
and our life is no more.
What becomes of our dreams,
that our minds, once long stored.

Do they live in another,
and some how remain?
Or are they lost forever,
Like tears in the rain?
 Feb 2010 Zenobia
One day soon
The choice will come
That this life of mine
Will soon be gone
Doc's tell me
Get things in novice
But we know not
The day, nor hour
Or, of which order
No longer can I keep
The fight going on
With Sarcoidosis
Abusing my lungs
Now my heart
Slowly beats
The body is tired
To take more
Match's to defeat
But my mind
Is not weak
It's clear as day
Hope you get
What I'm trying to say
Not saying I'm giving up
But this spell of Voodoo
Of the disease, that kills
Is taking over
Shorter breathes in between
When I walk or speak
Calling all my Angels
Watching over me
Just let me have
A little more time
With the family
To fight like soldiers
In a desert field
Build me up to bloom
Like a flower
On a Spring mourning hill
What come
What may
Everlasting prayer's
In a whisper
Without fear
I'll take that bow
Just not today
A little bit later
I have this disease called Sarcoidosis, there's not much known of it.
I've had this disease a very long time, since in my 20's, I'm now 47.
Have wanted to write something of this along time now.
I hope one day more attention will be applied to it,
because a lot of people die from this.
There seems to be no answer to why?

Hello to all, sorry I haven't been here in awhile, just want to say still hanging in there even though the challenges have made some things difficult with family member's. Keep your prayer's in your request line for me. Just turned 51, looks like "God" must till need me here to keep my creative vision of poetry fruitful.  

Almost naked except
A dangling Marlboro cigarette  

Expertly stroking his lover
Fingers caress a slender body

Methodically engulfing aroma
The sweet smell of ***

Swollen lips surround
Waves of rapture quiver

Eyelashes and eyeballs flutter
Sinking into oblivion

Head bobbing like a pendulum
Savoring lingering lust

Inhaling smoke languidly
******* every undying toxin

Heather Mirassou
Copyright, Heather Mirassou 2010
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