AstrologicalI have lost myself toVenus & Mars,tangled in their mismatched limbs.Just dream dust & shattered prayersbegging for a new set of skin(she can't remember where she orbits).Pluck these fractured wings;the Sun & Moon no longer acheto see me fly in their luster.
lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;uncompromisinglydesperate to shine.ii. counterfeit & clockwise,tasting words on herunworthy tongue.iii. with a dysfunctional mind& apocryphal dictionary,she cannot clone it all.iv. "say anything," the penwhispers as she tremblesamong ink-scented fraudulence.v. but she just laughs & plays the part,forgetting what the pages told her:"truth is stranger than fiction."
The Pen, The SwordJust lovelyI was happy to fall asleepin the welcoming arms of your words andyou were unaware that you held meso close, and so carefullyfrom the moment I didn't hear you speakto the taste of every sentence you spokeI knew you were the very truth that I'dbeen seeking all alongJust barelyI was loathe to fall so deepin the sharpened edges of your words andyou were too aware that you had meso close, and so carelesslyfrom the second I heard you breakto the taste of every sentence you brokeI knew you were the very truth that I'dbeen avoiding all along
False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days, I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were livingconvinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thoughtignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moonthen sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doomwould befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!They all represen
Death of the PoetDear poetry,This is your challenge,my eternal chore,to restate the truthlike never before-but I’m imperfectat my very coreand hypocrisyis what I abhorso you may expectmy work to be poorenough for me tobe crushed into gorewith failed attemptsto take wing and soarwhen all I wantedwas something much morethan emptiness andinherited warand pointless detailsof imagined lorewhich most of us tendto simply ignoreat the piercing soundof a lion’s roaror the convenienceof a nearby store…what am I trulywriting these words for? Let’s merely pretendthat this isn’t mebut the voice of Godor L. Ron Hubbardor whoever youwish for it to besince facts remain factsno matter the source,no matter the cause,since the trustworthyare also humansprone to failure;so prone to a faultthat we hold dearly-the sum of our faithmeasured in dollars-rewarded by creditand paper money…for some odd reasonI find this funny!So I conclude
ArrheniusThe birds arekeeping to themselvesthis eveningas the earth shiftsslightly-ever so calmly(for when you arethis powerfulyou only haveto move).Here and there, Iwitness thesebeautiful strangerswith perfect bodiesand long hairwalking down the roadin tightly knitted packs.They are animalslike we are animals-like we areanimals withoutclaws and fur,with scratches on ourskin that yields tofragile andfamiliar hands.The winds respondas quiet birds rushfrom telephone wiresin panic andin beauty; shetries to brush the hairdancing circles in her eyes(for when you arethis powerfulyou only have to move).
False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams, strangled by weeds, face down in the ground with no roses to mourn them.Singers are poets that croon (if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)and poets are false prophets - true love will last forever if they care to write it, but not if you swallow the lines...yet, they always do.We all have a place set for us in the shadein our own private garden of weeds.
False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days, I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were livingconvinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thoughtignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for
Psychotic ramblingsI, in the eternal void rest,Am the unwanted thirteenth guest,Insane, deranged and psychotic,There are people who even call me sick.Isn't it joyful and greedy to demandA sacrifice of strangulation at the reach of the hand?Cure the poisoned in a prison built of mental sand.Murder is the solution brought by the resolution.Is this the final, one and only conclusion? Better think again, there will be no retribution.Death is not the liberation, just the beginning.Is there eternal peace? The solution is sinning.Unacceptable lies become the truth, the chaos keeps spinning.
VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymesBy the people in their endless timeAs the morning dew breaks the dayBack to where the city-lights once laidThe lamp-posts are filled with black starlightAs the children run in their flight With cries of sorrow, cries of painThe old houses creaking with disdainAcidic puddles of blood-wet tearsRemain on the street through all these yearsAs the cracks have hid the crumbled dustWithin these roads of bone and rustThe melody of the birds is lost To the screeches and screaming lossThere are people cowering in the darkMurmuring, whispering their tortured remarksFlames ignite the world in fire
WakefulI remain awake with dreams on my mindand stories that wait to be knit into books.To never find comfort until my pillows are stuffed with thoughts instead of feathersTo never let go until I made sure thatthe moon smiled back at meUntil the trees, the grass, and every night creaturehas whispered good night...And yet I'm still as wakeful as an owlafraid that sleep would somehowgrab my neck and drag me to my grave.
Shared HappinessI like it better when you're happy.The world feels like a safe place -A good place to be.Stay happy, even in the faceof great adversityI know these last few years have been...Well, difficult, to say the least.But as long as your heart shinesI can hear it...That devilish smile on your lipsthe one no amount of milesor hardships can eraseRemember, I'm always watchingWith the eyes of my heartI see you clearlyAnd, as long as you are happyNo matter where this life leads meThen I am happy too.
bad nightmy mistakes are on my head,and the cigarettes taste like metal;on the street curb of a suburban block,the lights jaundiced and flickering like drunken fireflies, your reflectionthat emanates from me covers every face.
HumanDear Hypocrite, What do you do? Throwing insults when you're insulted.Dear Coward, Where went you?To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.Dear Liar, What say you?Your poison corrupts innocent ears.Dear Human, What are you?A sinner trapped in endless tears.
Watercolor PainWhen you smile,I turn colorblind.It turns into a somersault whenever I gain contactwith your skin,bare back touchingbare back.But I'm not hungryfor bedposts.I just want tosavor each moment your armslock into mine, the romanticism ofthe moons in my eyesand the skies in your words.There's smokebehind all those huesof hazel and your fingersare porcelain,but I still love you.
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