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Why is my heart so filled with sin?
Why must I struggle with this filth within.
Save me Lord from myself
And show me how to love.
It's a bright night.
I might write about:
Thoughts of a fight!
Then a flight from spite...
Don't bite.. You're too uptight.
But don't delight in your plight.
It's not right to skite.
What a sorry sight.
Gotta reach quite a height.
I'm not quite upright
On this bright night.
A broken man, shattered by his lover.
Fallen tears splash in the gutter.
I am sickened by this sinful world.
Why do people have to hurt one another?
Another Day - Another Night
Why do I sit at the computer all day
Whiling weary hours away?
I think the nights must know me well,
Hoping for something to cheer my soul
I fear the sleep that steals my time
And while away another day.
Frustration finds itself in you.
And if you weren\'t such a favoured friend,
I may have never bothered.
But since your friendship means so much
I will throw myself into the depths of despair,
And leave with down-turned face,
The notion of a friend behind,
Who shared my weekends kicking
A ball around a park.
I hope that we will long remain friends,
And with that hope I lift myself from the depths,
To enjoy your company as you freely give it,
And set my sights on the game.
Butterflies of Your Love
A torrent of soft wings flood
over my closed eyes,
as I see myself from the outside,
dreaming of you.
Butterflies (a million shades of white)
caress my face
and flow around me
Today Is The Day
Today is the day.
Today is the day that you stop making excuses.
Today is the day you put your fork down and lace up your shoes.
Today is the day you step outside and run like there is fire at your heels.
Today is the day you think of sweat as gold.
Today is the day you fall down and get back up.
Today is the day you feel the ache in your calves.
Today is the day you pant like a dog.
Today is the day you tell yourself you'll do it again tomorrow and mean it.
Today is the day you make a change.
The BirdSo desperate for the love
She couldn't find inside.
She was perfectly willing to throw herself at the stars,
Convinced she could be completely happy
With someone who put her in a nest.
That gilded nest was beautiful,
But a nest none the less.
It just took a shining mirror
To see how it had become a cage.
Resolutely she found the key
And let herself out.
She never noticed how confining it had become
The cage ripped and tore at her feathers and flesh
Until she finally wrenched herself free
To flee as far as she could get
From that awful place.
Along the way,
She found another mirror.
Looking into it....
She found me,
A reflection of herself.
She saw me – herself -
Without her cloak of lies
Leadening her hunched shoulders,
Concaving her entire persona.
She discovered my beautiful colors,
The fine sheen to my feathers
And enthralling grey of my eyes.
She flew away,
But I met her every mirror after
I saw her slouch transform into a strut,
Her shining tears dissolve into mischiev
you ate the stars and i ate my heart.this is how i was
fell in love with a boy
with razor sharp
teeth and a
poet's heart. it's really a
pretty kind of thing.
using his borrowed
tongue, he took me in like a
four a.m cigarette (slowly, and
with loneliness in every one of his
joints). we both thought
that enough smoke
would fill in the cracks in our
rib cages; we were both
he told me that he would
like to be a
planet: "all that open
space, all those dying
stars. it would give me room to
instead of telling him that
there is no oxygen in
outer space, i
watched him feel his lungs
implode. it broke my
bones to witness it; but it's really a
dreadfully pretty thing to
comfortcurling into quilts so deep
bubbles of tension run off
my body like soap, and i
clutch that raggedy little
dog to my chest like cloth
can make me whole.
What is Isolation you ask?
Isolation is to be left out when you want to be in.
Isolation is feeling that sense of loneliness.
Isolation is feeling alone when ten thousand people surround you.
Isolation is hearing laughter in a room and silence when you walk in.
Isolation is staying away from people, afraid they won’t talk back.
Isolation is sad.
Isolation is small.
Isolation is hard to describe unless you are the person feeling it.
Isolation is quiet.
Isolation is counting how many times you get let down and eventually lose track.
Isolation is wanting to forgive but not knowing how.
Isolation is uttering a cry from the depths of your soul and waiting forever for a reply.
Isolation is not hearing an answer when you ask a question.
Isolation makes you feel worthless.
Isolation has to be the cruelest of emotions.
I know the feeling of isolation.
I sense it in myself.
There's nothing you choose to do about it.
For I've tried everything already.
So don't be surprised,
If I'm gone from this place.
nightfallThe night air is cool.
Street lamps are coming on
and from my window seat,
narrow and confining,
there's a person on bike.
I wonder where they're going,
who they are, what they'll see,
whether they'll be friend or foe,
and if that will matter to me.
Ah, they're turning, turning,
out of sight now
behind the houses,
the trees, the lights
behind the sheltered,
comforting feel of night
I'm starting to feel witchy
as the first star shows its twinkle
thinking of these rhymes and rhythms
Like the beat of my heart
matches the breath of the wind
and the exhalation
of my sleeping sister next door
and the snores of father and mother
down the hall.
It's a night of magic and mystery:
no cloud covers the moon,
not quite full, not quite empty
and the scratching noise of branches
echoes my imagination,
narrow and confined,
my body starts to ache
longing for the comfort of the bed
just a few feet away.
I turn from the window,
face the curtain, but a glimpse
of another biker catches my eye
and I'm trans
Stop talking, Start screamingStop talking
It’s not enough
Maybe you should try to scream
Everyone does it
Stamp your feet
Slam the door
What you stand for
And when somebody
Has noticed you
Do what all the others
Would do too
Just don’t quit
You like the attention more
Than you could admit
Don’t be embarrassed
It’s what we all do
Everyone denies it
But we all know it’s true
Screaming our opinions
On the whole internet
And begging for attention
Is how we lack intellect
This is who we are
It’s the purpose of our society
Everybody wants to be heard
Ignoring the last bit of propriety
So do what you think is right
Scream whatever comes in mind
Do anything you can do
To make someone notice you
The Witch TrialOn the east-bounds o' red-rose shire,
there stands the Pendle Hill.
T'ween rivers Ribble and Hudder,
wind-swept moors standing still.
Walled by the druid stones and wary
hedgerows, Irish sea gales whisper and
moan. For devil soul'd men o' earth
tramp the trails alone.
Demdike and Device, Redferne and Whittle.
Those crones and their blood kin
care for nought, old hearts brittle.
Across the dark old Pendle Hill
They scurry'd and swarm'd. To fear'd Malkins
Tower, Pendle Forests black soul.
Brave Nicholas and Nowell, hid 'mongst
the tall trees, unseen by the Coven
who plotted dark deeds. They led
local men held by fear and thrall,
Captured the Coven, sent to
Lancaster's dank halls.
Trial'd, and tested, and sentenced to die.
Devils and beggars, see
the Pendle's blighters stand nigh.
Hung by the neck 'till the corpses
are cold. Buried in churchyards, with
eyes on their souls.
But one was different from the old
and the ugly. Dear Alice Nutter,
the lady of Roughlee. Silent and
FreehandThe blistered moon,
Yellow and jealous,
peeked into my third floor
city girl's window last night;
Bright enough just to break through
the layer of Arizona red dust
but not enough, still,
to rip my eyes from the setting sun.
(Sorry, Moony, maybe you'll get your spotlight next time.)
I felt the breath shimmy out of my lungs,
heard the skeletons rattle in my closet,
and relished the faux reflected warmth
ripping through the starless skyline;
The twilight smells like storm clouds and poison,
So I take a swig on midnight instead,
burning like fermented acid rain should,
But it has a sweet silver rumble in my belly,
and I detect a tangy--
What is that?
Is it desperation, or last month's rent?
Maybe it's a dubstep remix of rapped jazz?
Hmmm.... more like bottled poetry and a monkey's paw.
Or maybe it's just gas.
As day follows night
The sun is high upon the sky
A few white clouds hang not so high
My legs in pain will fight the strain
That heavy breathing doth belie.
I ride my bike up many hills
The few declines my only thrills
My mind is working as it does
Even though this really kills.
My plan today to take a ride
Was meant to lift me from my slide
Into the horror of last night
When scared I me with what's inside.
I pedal slowly as I go
Mind revolted, now I know
Shellshocked by the news so grim
I saw it coming, go to woe.
The day is hot, the journey long
I can't but help think that something's wrong
So now I turn and ride away
From where I know I can't belong.
Drops of sweat from my eyelashes
Dropping down with gentle splashes
Softly, softly past my vision
Light my world with sun lit flashes.
Or blind me from my hopeless love
I have no word that rhymes with flashes.
This poem will remain unfinished.
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