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Fade into Written WordFade in lines of written word,
disappear betwixt prose and rhyme.
Summon stories of stardust's song
and find fables of forgotten times.
Disappear from harsh reality,
seeking lettered escape.
Twisting lines into melodies,
leaving the long lost agape.
Whispering wishes of wanderlust,
daring dreams of dancing,
gushes of grace's grandeur
with the beauty blushing brings.
Let's fade in lines of written word,
disappear betwixt prose and rhyme.
Summon stories of stardust's song
and find fables of forgotten times.
Soul to SavePeople have greedy hands,
tearing at tender hearts.
Seeking a piece of soul,
wanting to belong in part.
In the end of innermost desire,
the yearning to contain --
something so pure yet fragile,
only to mistake and make pain.
Those of good and even evil
have dared to tread this road,
only to learn the reason why
people have this endeavor forbode.
Run far and fast my child,
depart from this affair.
Guard your hapless heart,
save your soul to someday share.
Memory's PainCut my chest open,
let me bleed.
Find my soul
and set it free.
Tears of red,
Leave me be,
life's a blur.
Alone she treads
mist in moonlight,
a mirror broken.
Find withered dreams
in torn up pages,
for death is gained
in memory's pain.
Obsession"I need rest," she murmurs under the copper dyed hues of sunset's leaves.
"Why don't you lie down for a while?" He looks down upon her, intentions of night in his dark eyes.
"I need rest," she whispers as the colour begins to steadily fade.
"Then nod your head, there's naught to fear," he smiles, stardust coating his cold breath.
"I need rest," she sighs as the last of sun's warmth departs her core.
"Take a seat, my love," he encircles as a panther would its prey.
"I need rest," a cry as soft as a dove flees her lips.
"Lift your feet, one shan't stand for too long," he becomes a shadow looming.
"I need rest," her eyes of summer look up, dreams departing.
"My shoulder is here for you," he coldly offers, deceit dripping with every word.
"I need rest," her hands delicate as fall reach like struggling branches in winter winds.
"Let me hold you," his arms of greed reach forth with malintent.
"I need rest," her breaths cast away by the humming breeze.
"There's a pillow nearby," his callous f
Where It Does Not ShineA parting glance in the room,
A flirtation down the hall,
A smirk dancing on lush lips,
A pair of wandering eyes align.
Unheard whispers ready to bloom,
Breaths lost in forbidden fall,
Sentences trailing down hips,
Hands seeking desire's sign.
Unless you can meet me
where it does not shine,
I doubt I will be thine.
lurking at the seams
watching her eyes flicker,
sleep making reality blur.
He creeps along,
weaving his song
exposing subconscious secrets
sewn in her hidden regrets.
his eyes meet with hers,
only to slowly fade away.
For she wakes to light of day.
Youth's HiccupThe days of youth have absconded
into the folds of forgotten memory.
Times when ignorance was bliss
Incompatible innocence - only temporary.
The chapters continue to write themselves,
never-ceasing in their progression.
Stars faded into broken shards
as age summoned its restriction.
Tying down diamond-eyed children
into burdened and weary adults
where giggles with smiles are hidden.
The days of youth have long departed
where may have abused the tender-hearted.
The beauty of youth had a hiccup
when we believed we wanted to grow up.
Light MeadowsGoodbye, irate inhibitions.
Adieu, reckless recognitions.
Sayonara, rude restrictions.
Adios, pointless prohibitions.
It has become time to adamantly elude
the trepidation of negative attitude;
to parlay into beautiful spontaneity
and depart from monotonous animosity.
This chaotic thing called life
tends to bring habitual strife.
Through the endeavor of survival
often times come need of renewal.
Good day, prude premonitions.
Cheerio, tiresome traditions.
So long, absurd acquisitions.
Toodle-oo, dreary dispositions.
There is no need for this weight
that only mentally becomes innate,
All along in this present actuality
none of this crap will be reality.
I choose to tread my own path,
regardless of possible wrath.
Chasing away the dark shadows
in order to find light meadows.
Summer NightsThe stars above dazzling and whirling,
as we play our insignificant games
The summer nights where our memories
soon take form and create hidden names
The things we created became so near
We sought to grasp at the moonlight
Our shadows dancing along with us
Maybe we will find dreams tonight
Let's forget the past of winter's words
and find the radiant truth of summer's song
To discover hidden realms of our desire
as we get caught up in the swaying throng
This is merely the beginning of the end
Time to seek the beauty of fleeting moments
Like the shooting stars flashing before us
we surround each other in passionate descents
Pursue the spectre of blinking fireflies
As we lay down together and begin to sleep
Praying that one day our neverland will come
So summer's song will remember our love to keep
What would a story be?
If there was no one there to read it.
What would dreams be?
If there was no one there to conceive it.
What would a picture be?
If there was no one there to see it.
What would a secret be?
If there was no one there to keep it.
What would love be?
If there was no one there to feel it.
What would a song be?
If there was no one there to sing it.
What would the truth be?
If there was no one there to admit it.
What would advice be?
If there was no one there to give it.
What would life be?
If there was no one there to live it.
The Intelligent Are So SadA cascade of words parade around,
with thoughts of atoms and connotation.
She is brilliant, they say,
but she knows she is lost.
Numbers are her companion,
she understands their mean, average.
Words can twist her brain,
she loves the wonder they bring.
She is intelligent, they say,
she doesn't feel clever enough.
Sometimes she feels clever too much.
Excusez-moi, in perfect French,
but nothing is gained by perfect word tense.
She is clever, they say.
But she is not clever the way they know.
She sees things as they are,
and she prefers her thoughts to the world.
She knows she loves them more than they in return,
and her friends will be there until they wont.
Friends reassure her, you'll be okay,
she puts a smile on her face.
She loves them as much as any,
even though there aren't many.
They bring out the best in her,
the happy girl,
not swamped by words.
The one who isn't drowning in formula.
Test scores and numbers don't mark you smart,
she knows this now,
engraved in her
Monument to a Ruined ManI see you now.
The magnificent velvet and silk flags of your name
Now fester and rot in tatters.
The ornate gold and jewels, now dull and blackened with age,
Hang limply from the brittle, yellowing scaffolds
Of your admiring subjects, their mouths gaping open in one last,
All loyalty long since disappeared.
And here you stand
Alone in the silence of your own undoing-
No longer a ruler, or even a man, but a shell-
The hands whose wizened palms I once worshipped
Have crumbled slowly into nothing.
Those lips, whose stately curve I once adored,
Now worn and cracked from centuries of smiling.
But your smiles were never intended for me.
How I longed for something more than
The cold, conceited gaze with which I was rewarded.
But time passed, your influence waned, and now you stare emptily
Searching in vain for your salvation.
And here, as your empire dies,
You fall to the ash and dust
And are swallowed by darkness
And whispers echo through the void:
This is your legacy.
Hidden HuesRefusing to escape this perfect realm,
Oblivious to the alarm’s nagging.
Closing my eyes to falsely pretend,
This world goes on without the raging.
And yet too soon I wake to darkness,
All the sun’s light is a mirror’s illusion.
Nightmares clear the dreams I prolong,
Setting my fears into fruition.
Draped in robes of heaven’s disguise,
Evil taunts us from left and right.
So many forms it blatantly sports,
Angels must pity our little plight.
Fractions of time is hell unleashed,
Sorrow absorbed in just one blink.
Blades and ropes and bullets blend,
Each passing day a child will sink.
Colors dull to the undying clockwork,
Ears gone deaf to justified crime.
Oh just how can we all stand it?
Watching demons at their prime.
Placing pearls on the ocean floor,
And leaving hope in Pandora’s box.
The gods must feast on playing jokes,
Closing this cellar without the locks.
But just as air seeps in the tiniest hole,
Paired with night is dawn’s bright light.
Give a man a fish he will eat for a day.
Teach a man to fish he will eat for a life time.
Give a man a gun he will rob a bank.
Give a man a bank he will rob the world.
We adapt and adjust.
Constantly dithering on the cusp
Of what is considered wrong and right,
Ensuring that our ambitions remain in sight.
We would be willing to do anything
In order to get what we truly desire.
We would be willing to risk everything
Even putting our friends in the line of fire.
We may share the bounty with others,
Allowing them to experience the fruitful taste.
Given the option we will even care for our brothers.
Just as long as we are well endowed with songs of praise.
We are opportunists.
We are convincing and ruthless.
We are the modern day Judas.
My Master's VoiceI screamed at him "I'm leaving!"
He smiled and said "okay"
I said "no, for once I mean it
This time you wont make me stay"
But bags were never really packed
And that night in our bed I lay
The taste of blood on my lips
Still remained there the next day
I screamed at him "please stop this!
I am the Mother to your child
Baby, I know you have a temper
I know my ways make you so wild"
"But I promise I'll try harder
Not to push your buttons so much"
With that the beast resumed control
As I quiver at each stolen touch
They scream at me to leave him
To them it's such a simple choice
But it's been so long since I've heard
Anything but my master's voice
To the point that I no longer know
My own mind or my own heart
But today he said he's sorry again
And tomorrow will be a fresh start
The World of My DreamsOut of the grass sprang gentle hands
that carried me over a field of clovers
And I drifted beneath the clouds,
gazing in the idle wonder
that creeps upon men like curling ivy
There was no bluer sky than that day,
and the trees-
there have never been more hearty trees
than the giant oaks towering above me
as the hands carried me further-
And when I awoke in this mysterious land,
I breathed in the scent of moist grass,
relieved to find that it was not just a dream,
and that the world in which I lived
was as beautiful as the world of my dreams
Of Random Thoughts and ThingsLast night, I thought of my first cat
when I was a child,
a jet black kitten with six toes on each paw,
and the lemon tree that grew
in the rear of my parents' backyard-
I couldn't climb that tree,
full of wicked thorns that tore my flesh.
So why did I think of the cat and the tree
on this particular night?
They came to me in a fog which
should have made me sad. After all-
five years later, I found my cat by the side
of the house in a pile of dried leaves.
I carried her to the back and sat vigil
under the lemon tree until she died.
It made me wonder, is it always this way
with all things, to romanticize years later?
I started to plan in my head, a new place,
a retreat where my love and I could live:
I scoured through catalogs of furnishings
hand-picked by the hour,
in a virtual tour, setting up and
arranging, mulling over and re-doing,
from page to mind's eye,
the goblets and plates, the linens and drapes
'round tables and chairs,
a bed with down pillows, lamps on their stands-
Ophelia's MarchShe stands tall
Amongst the ashes
Of her all
A child in a misshapen form.
Spectres of memory
Cloud her countenance
Her eyes, bright and keen.
Scanning the horizon
She traces the unchartered peaks with her tongue
Delighting in the worn roughness
Of cracked enamel
And the taste of metal.
She is far
From her bloody body
Scarlet marring translucent white.
She takes a small, teetering
Finding her new feet
Feeling the comforting crunch
Of Bone and sand and dust
Walls of AshWalls feel like ash,
tattered and torn.
Dead leaves drifting away,
leaving naught to morn.
Rain washes away broken shards
revealing hidden truths of lie.
Breathing life into dry death,
past torments becoming shy.
The tower blown over
by whispering winds,
giving sight to new life--
allowing the old to end.
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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