The Soul is like water,
it fills up your entire being to the brim.
is made just to keep it from spilling out,
so the next life may recieve it as full as the last.
KatynIn the forest, beneath the trees
Another man falls to his knees
No headstones or crosses on the graves
For that's "reserved for the brave"
But privileged to be buried with many
The body count far over twenty...
Gagged, tied, bound
They dare not utter a sound
For if they try,
Just close your eyes,
And wait for the ‘bang!’
One bullet through the head,
One more falls down dead
Rinse, reload, repeat
To the streets
In the forest, beneath the trees
Another man falls to his knees...
“Make sure no words get out
To the streets...”
Life Is Like Whiskey....Life is like whiskey,
You drink it til it's gone.
But the Euphoria you get from it won't make ya' suffer long!
Now this ol' drunk will always say, and say it loud and true:
"Think of life like whiskey, and you'll bid your life adieu..."
A Glimpse Into My Mind...I wanna create,
I need to create!
with these hands of mine!
I wanna move!
Dancing is fun!
I'm gonna run!
Run across the pages of blank, monotone paper!
Run all the way around the world!
Run out of
What was that? The signal gun sounding that someone’s won?
The sound of another marathon that’s over and done?
No. It’s not.
Flags from all over falling down,
Hundreds of innocent bystanders dropping to the ground
Just like little flies
All for what? For some sick creep’s twisted dream,
For a bunch of thugs who’re just itchin’ to make us fall at the seam?
“Who did this?! Who did this?!”
The question on everyone’s mind, the question that everyone’s asking
“I don’t know!”
The enraging ‘answer’ that everyone’s using, because they’re just as clueless as everyone else,
But yet, the people still scream
“Who did this?! Who did this?!”
48, 49, then 100 plus
The number of the people’s limp but alive bodies piling up by the second
The message remains unclear, but still it beckons,
Why Do Humans Hate?Why do humans hate? It is a question that I have asked many times but to no avail of an answer. But I have came close to it; and I realized that with anything good, there must be something equaly bad to rival and antagonize it, and it reminded me of what Martin Luther King Jr had once said: "Darkness cannot drive out darkness- only light can do that. Just like hate cannot drive out hate- only love can do that." It still doesn't answer a thing, though. It doesn't make sense, how someone can actually believe that hating someone could ever accomplish anything but destruction. I often pity people like that, the people who so blindly and so niavely believe that hate can do anything more than ruin their own lives. It's like pointing and laughing at yourself in a mirror with the delusion that your reflection is someone else. I have no "need" to hate, I have a life on this beautiful planet, I have the pleasure of knowing both my Mother and my Father, I am perfectly healthy in body an
HollowI'm hollowed to the marrow
Torn apart by this constant wind of emptiness,
My eyes seeking for the answer of a better tomorrow,
The malevolence of a disapearing bliss
Gripping the infinity of a starless night
Lost in a sphere of never ending torments
Riving the scale of an excruciating moroseness.
Struggle and despair you carry
Euphoria and passion you exult,
While I can share nothing but a gap
Attached to a breeze
Falling into nothingness
Fatigued by the time flowing
Hollowed to the marrow
The Great PoetIf you are the great poet as you say,
Rhyme yourself a key or make the bars fray
If you are the great poet as you speak,
Turn us to ash, make us truly weak
If you are the great poet as you so boldly tell,
Just simply write yourself free from this hell!
“No,” said the poet,
“Why is that?,” we growled in sync
“Well, you forgot to give me some paper and ink”
minister'good morning,' the reverend bellows
'what a lovely collection of idols
we have gathered today'
they're a spectacle of a scatter plot on the pews
the bronzed hypocrisy of saved men sitting still,
saints on the neutral ground of benches
is an inconsistency i'll struggle
to reconcile with the jacob's ladders of rough-hewn grace
swooping in on souls or spirits
which have proven to be untouchable
not for sale in even the blackest of markets
speak, preacher. preach. i've always listened piously
and i'm not yet thinking of sunday dinner:
will the chicken be hot will the apple crisp burn
i mimic transcendence of the physical
i, being the gatherer, have bypassed the stone age
for lyres and flutes and lips; our white robes-
i suppose they suit me.
i imagine my forehead set in the grave constitution
of a saint who worries not about the anticlimactic
pressure of dry, even lips
contrasting my graphic fire-fantasies,
devil's work unfit for a faithful child
preacher, name your text.
i'm not a salem
EstellaI had a girl once,
before she died.
she was pale and thin
with thin white lips
and raven hair
and anger hidden
in her amber stare.
She came to me
when I was alone
with heartache riddled,
mind of stone
she played to me
her desperate songs
and kept me alive
all winter long.
And through it all,
though she tore at me,
there was nowhere else
I hoped to be...
She was an orphan
of wide-open spaces
child of bookshelves
my empty places
I granted her solace
here in my heart
although life had begun
to wrench it apart
She played to my torment,
the parts of my body
beginning to languish
and I kept her there safe
in my haze of regret
the sole consolation
I could hope to get
And she kept me alive,
but she kept me asleep,
down under the rafters
my sorrow so deep.
And still over time,
I began to rebel
I began to see real life
not as living hell
but she sulked in my corners
stared storm clouds at me
"We're worthless," she said,
"And it's all we will be.
Broken momentsSitting beside the window
Twisting a strand of hair
Thinking of those broken moments
Which no magic can repair
It seems like just now
You whispered something about love
It took me to up to the sky
Among singing and dancing doves
Oh how can I forget
That smile, that blush
Which only and only your voice could bring
No matter I was in what rush
But then fate came in
Tore me from within
Smashed and thrashed the dying me
And left no way for light to come in
I should have known
Happiness isn’t for me
I never get what I long for
No matter how much I plea
So now I have to move on
Or at least I would try
Because this world never bears a weakling
Just leaves it to die.
JUST LET ME GO....You broke my wings
Didn’t want me to fly
Why were you afraid?
Why so wry?
I was a free soul
I had to go away
But you intervened
When you had made it unbearable to stay.
Then why this fuss…
Over what you don’t even care about
Why nib a bud
Before it sprout
Isn’t it unjust?
Trying to control someone’s fate
When all you can give them
Is pain and hate
Just let me go
Don’t make me stay
I don’t belong to you
My heart not for you to play.
beauty is a state of mindforgiveness is the
scent the violet leaves
on the foot that stomped it;
I am beautiful in remembrance:
I am beautiful
in a body two sizes too
large, in eyes dilated
with questions (eyes
you cannot name; gray
like the ocean, blue
like the heart, green like
the fever dream I cannot
wake from) I am the
hair of a lion, a wild
thing, ignition upon
tempted glance. I am the skin
you cannot name, always fleeting;
you always see
but never truly take in.
and I know a boy
carved of ivory silence,
LifelikeCan butterflies sing?
Can ladybugs cry?
If snow falls down,
do leaves have to die?
Until too much brightness can burn your eyes,
maybe to stay inside is a good advice?
Maybe all the truth should be hidden in the maze,
Until one of us has found its place?
Is it possible you can sing?
Is it possible you can cry?
Will you fall down?
Or will you just die?
fuck the instinct to apologize for everythingwe neglect ourselves, sometimes
we do not pay attention
we forget, the best of us,
that we need some time between the endless rush of moments,
the neon flash of wet streets at night and the flick-flick-flick of cars passing us,
on the right
we forget that we need that space of hours,
to let our breath out
and cry a little--use up some tissues--
and admit to ourselves what the state of things is
and why we've been treating ourselves like strangers,
rather than friends