Put a bullet in my brain
as the rain sweeps her out of my arms
and places her into another's.
Put a bullet in my brain
for I don't want to see love slip away
please end my suffering,
for I don't want to dare see her in the arms of another man.
I fear the tear that slips away from my soul
and touches the ground with a splash
as she is washed away by the lashed memories of the rain,
please, someone put a bullet in my brain.
I can't bear to see her with another man
laying in his arms
as he charishes her beauty
just like I did to her.
As she smiles and laughs at his jokes
my heart would not bare the sorrow and pain
that would tare my heart apart into pieces of tainted love.
Please tell the rain to stop,
as the pain grows when rain comes down,
please someone end my suffering,
put a bullet in my brain
and stop the rain
that washes away every memory of her.
Stop saying you miss me
and just kiss me
for I can't take the pain
of the rain that takes you away.
Kiss me and stop saying you miss me
for those are useless words to me.
Love is where it's at, so show me.
Don't go with him, he'll treat you wrong.
Love and laugh with me till the break of dawn
as we yawn the long night away.
Kiss me and don't say you miss me.
For if you go away from me,
I couldn't bare to take a tear and waste it away.
Tears, sweet tears crying for you,
doesn't that mean anything to you?
I ask you, stop the rain,
stop the pain and put that bullet in my brain.
Let the red blood flow from my temples.
Let the plow dig my grave,
for I can't bare to see you with another
in his arms, him kissing you, where I kissed you.
I can't take it, I have to make it,
make that pain go away.
Prayer didn't help, God turned a blind eye
when I came up and said why!
Put that bullet in my dome
and when I lay in the coffin, looking at the roof of the church
you come and kiss me, and then you can really say
that you'll miss me.
Regrets I have so many
But one that drags me down
Every time I think about it
My face takes on a frown.
It was the day I left my wife
Though why I do not know
All I know with certainty
Is that I hurt that lady so
I never will forgive myself
The remorse is hard to bear
And everywhere I try to go
The furies, they are there.
I know until my dying day
I never will forget
The day I left my wife behind
It fills me with regret.
8 August 2013 @ 1720hrs.
In the mountains near the land of Nord
Their lived a fiery Dragon
He had such hot and fearsome breath
Yet he kept his tail a dragging
Because he knew he wasn't bad
He was shy and that was all
And if he looked too meek and mild
Then folk would treat him cruel.
He met this little lad from Kelt
One day whilst coasting round
With fire belching from his mouth
And roaring fearsome sounds
The little lad was terrified
When he saw this thunder brute
And the dragon he was hurt indeed
As this fear he did intuit.
He said "I'm sorry little boy
But I'd not do you harm
I rasp and roar like this you know
So folk will leave me calm
I really want to be your friend
It's so lonely being me
Then the two they walked off arm in arm
It was beautiful to see.
Socrares Dec 7 2003
For Carol Eastmans contest 'Children's Fable
Analysis read—and wronged—and pulled
Lulled into our idealistic mess
Words no longer ours but hung distress
Farced in carnality—they are ruled
Soundness remains what we will believe
And all else is but tethered nonsense
Clinched tightly in unfriendly absence
Overcome in overwrought relief
The judges judge on behalf of tongue
When ears and eyes close achingly tight
And perhaps in woe we find them right
For witches sought and bound must be hung!
Lower than the softened dirt that cures
Where worms in halves blindly come to eat
The higher crush with tormented feat
And the suns scorch what is left of hers
Answers never tried—and cured to hide
They look to superior sources
The rotten are the strongest forces
Ripened and toughened with bequeathed pride
Contest: Metrical verse
Sponsor: Giorgio Veneto
In a strange
environment under gross
darkness and whispering
night,I found myself with
We walked an endless
journey across the
woods..eerie sounds we
heard,a crack! then the
undead resurrecting from
marshes,we ran seeking
These creatures howled
as they drew near with
deepened,I called out to
my friend a flesh eater he
Under the whispering
night I stood alone,
seemed the world stood
still,as these monsters
encircled me,I closed my
eyes wishing I was not
Suddenly,a bright light
zombies-then eerie noises
ceased, and the world
revolved once again.
A knock,I realized I
drifted to sleep as my
companion entered my
We zoomed off towards
the horizon under the
A single kiss from thy lovely lips,
so sweet and so divine,
yet I taste posion upon your tongue.
Your beauty so glorious,
like a blooming rose so beautiful,
yet, why do mine eyes go blind
in the sight that you walk along with another?
Yes you, walk with another,
arm under arm,
lips touching lips in romantic kisses,
it makes my blood boil,
for mine lips are dry.
For mine eyes have seen your glory,
yet no one here listens to my story.
You are evil, yes you are,
don't try to deny,
Listen to a man of experience,
you might as well save some expense.
I write of our long romantic walks
we took together, under the shade of olive trees,
how we went apple picking in autumn time,
and made love in the foyer.
Nomore of that sweet and passionate love,
nomore silent kisses in the night,
when the wind blows hard against the branches,
that tape violently on my windowpane.
Nomore somber tears shed, when you got sick,
and nomore warm embraces when you shed tears of betrayal.
Betrayal now is a game played by a fool,
such as I,
to think I'd have a happy life with you?
Huh, only a fool would think such a thing,
but now I sit, looking at the foyer,
where we once made sweet, passionate love,
nomore will that foyer be filled with exotic pleasure.
Nomore will you be filled with smiles and exotic pleasure.
I've done my job, as a good man shall do,
now pack your things and get of my stage,
the spotlight yawns for anew,
and the audience grows tired and restless of you.
Now I live life anew,
you too shall see life in new eyes,
walking hand and hand with the blond, blue eyed devil
you call your own.
Shall he take one kiss from your lips,
and die of the posion he tastes on your tongue,
shall he go blind, when he sees your true, black beauty?
He will see the ugly soul, covered up by white rags,
and cheap makeup,
and then he will come to me,
and shake my hand in condolence
and say, "You were right!"
Now you are all alone,
looking for another, as you did many times before,
Now you are alone, walking an open road,
spying on another,
fear of being alone.
Now, you see when you play games with a good man's emotions,
don't try it,
because a good man is not meant to be toyed with.
I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear
Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm
When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane
I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes
I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries
I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs
As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call
With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay
Random thoughts of you run
randomly throughout my mind,
as I hold, looking through a simple picture of you and I,
smiles and holding each other,
embracing warmth brings me to sanity,
watching your hand on my forearm,
as you gaze into my eyes.
Oh the tears flood such emotion,
only you and I now in such madness we call love,
such madness we all call life,
such madness we all call reality.
Thoughts of me without you,
I cannot bear to see such a sight in mind,
to hear such words that tear my heart out
and sadness stabs me rapidly in the back,
and I can't bear to see such a sight as this.
Thoughts of you
running randomly throughout my mind,
my hair turns silver and white with stress
of not being with you,
and my liver covered with cancer,
and lungs black with smoke,
and stomach embraced with ulcers.
All I ask for you,
is not to be a thought anymore,
and come back to me in flesh and bone
in a portrait painting of you in reality
come to me with your beauty and glory
and kind heart and hold me again,
and let me kiss you again and love you again,
and call you mine again.
Don't say it is impossible,
when you know and I know,
that it is in fact possible
to love each other once again.
Just When It Seems Like Life Is Overwhelming!
Just when it seems like I’ve faced
my darkest night…
And things in life,
aren’t turning out right…
This is about the time, when things
are falling apart!
And I began to feel a lot of stress in my heart!
I run to Jesus! I know that he wants to help me!
He’s always here! And promises to never leave me!
He sees me, and speaks words
of comfort, to follow!
He reminds me, that he’ll take care
of today and tomorrow!
He lets me know that he won’t let go of my hand!
Everything I’m going through…
He turns back all of the problems that are overwhelming!
And I see what things my life, are becoming!
I have fellowship with Jesus! Like I never had before!
He’s given to me peace and hope! And much more!
I’m glad I have such a wonderful
friend like this!
His love and joy… I don’t want to miss!
Thank you Jesus! For turning my life around!
And for plating my life on a solid ground!
You’re all I want! And all that I’ve needed!
With you as my Lord! My life has been completed!
By Jim Pemberton
I tried to write about love but I haven’t felt it.
I tried to write about the sea but I’ve never seen it.
Then I tried to write about the air, but I have never breathed it.
I tried to write about magic but I never believed it.
I couldn’t write about god, all I have ever done is sinned.
And when I tried to write about life I found,
I have never really lived.
As the sun sets
and the twilight comes out,
as the birds and squrriels are no where in sight.
As the whores and pimps sit on street corners,
waiting for street lights to turn from green to red.
As cadillacs stop and roll their windows down.
I can her the faint cry deep in the darkness,
of dirty gutters and dark, dead end alleyways,
I hear the faint tears fall and hit concrete pavement.
I feel the faint cries of whores,
I hear the sound of backhand hitting face
and brused tissue and broken noses are everywhere.
And the somber tears fall onto pillow cases,
and white motel bedsheets run red with blood
and cheap Italian wine.
And you can her the poet over the radio,
reading his own work for the one millionth time
and you can hear his soul slowly wanting to die.
He drowns himself in smoke and alcohol
the whore takes her pay, or spends a night in a jail cell,
the pimp nowhere to be found,
with a shiny blade stuck deep in his gut.
And the somber tears fall gently on the concrete pavement,
the floors of a jail cell,
tears on the pillow case and tears on a lonesome stage.
Tears never present, but are seen by many,
pain aches and pain takes away,
and I pour one more drink for the whore.
She takes me away,
and I caught her salty, somber tear,
and she crawled into my warm embrace.
I was the one who stuck the blade in the gut of that pimp,
who broke her nose and made her bleed,
with a cowardess and souless backhand.
I walk into the moonlight,
hearing the somber tears all around me,
crash violently to the concrete pavement.
The Earth rumbles and erupts with these tears,
that are shead for fellow Men, and Women and Children,
but we all look at ourselves and smile.
Happy we don't pay rent,
happy we don't have cancer,
happy we aren't six feet under;
But we still all cry,
Somber tears all fall in one big wave
crashing violently on the concrete pavement.
Now the red light turns green,
and the traffic moves along,
the whore is still at her corner,
the pimp still with the blade in his gut.
We’re Just Sinful Human Beings!
All of us are just sinful human beings!
Scripture says; “the heart is sinful above everything!”
Even if we try to hide and wash our sins away…
Wickedness in our heart, is there, each day!
God made Adam and Eve, with perfection!
But sin crept in, like a deep and wicked infection!
He put them in the Garden of Eden with a choice.
It was up to them to listen to his voice.
They had all they could want, with one instruction.
Disobeying this, would lead to their destruction.
Satan took the form of a snake to tempt their mind.
And their disobedience affected all of mankind!
Since that time, mankind has needed atonement!
Only the blood of Jesus can cleanse you! This very moment!
Only his blood can wash away sin’s dark stain!
It can only be found when one calls on Jesus’ name!
We’ve all sinned and fallen short of God’s glory!
But wait! This doesn’t have to be the end of the story!
God and all of his angels in heaven, are waiting for YOU!
The love and blood of Jesus,
can make you BRAND NEW!
His love, for our sins, is what he offers in exchange!
You can be forgiven! And forever totally changed!
This opportunity is for you, to reach out and take!
Won’t you do it now? For eternity’s sake???
By Jim Pemberton
What I do to deserve this heartbreak,
this horrid and unnatural pain,
this cleche of events that strike me simultaneously
as the time ticks away,
and as the grinning faces pierce a whole through my soul
and my heart turns pale and slowly beats.
My heart is torn in two,
and I cannot find the doctors to stich me up.
I ask an old man,
how does love go about,
he smaked me in the face and went on.
The pain and the sorrow,
it is too much to feel,
too much to gain in one serving,
When I eat, I taste posion, not passion,
familiar faces turn grey, with ruby eyes and sharp fangs
they hiss at me, like a cat to a mouse.
I don't understand why I deserve this.
I am a good man,
who loves with open arms and a big heart.
With every hug I give,
I recieve a knife of betrayal in my back,
I feel the blood ooze from my open wounds,
suicidal tendencies roll through my mine,
but I quickly throw them out,
because Mama didn't raise no coward.
I see the blow, I clench my fists
and swing away,
God cries wanting to stop this madness,
Death laughs and soon joins in,
people join in and punch away.
I lay there on the concret blood everywhere,
my heart torn out of my chest,
each with a thousand knives stabbed in it,
as it slowly beats,
I lay their on the pavement,
looking up to the heavenly skies,
and as it starts to rain droplets of hope
I ask myself,
What did I do to deserve this?
Then, I shall close my eyes
and rest for awhile.
Inspired by all the betrayal and heartbreak I've faced, by so many cowards who didn't want to recieve my love. People I had thought who were my friends, came with invitations of humiliation and hate, and now I see who my real friends are; this pen and paper... Have a good day.
P.S. No one should ever be shown this much betrayal and heartbreak. I wouldn't even wish it on my worst enemy. Have a good day!
3 o’clock in the morning…
The sounds of bed frames hitting drywall,
The sounds of Chopin and Coltrane played
With a hint of sadness in tone.
Sounds of whores and pimps arguing;
“Where is the money, you whore?!”
“I don’t have the money!”
A sound of a slap to the face
A big hand crushing bone,
Red streaks on white walls.
The sound of drunks walking gloomy streets,
Police and ambulance rush down burned out streets
Sirens wailing, crying out!
A child, six years old
Crying, “Momma! Momma!”
Shedding tears over his dying mother, lost her soul to the
Rest In Peace.
A sound of a .357 magnum revolver click
And a gunshot shakes the nerves of many,
And for a moment the sweet and peaceful silence.
“Dispatch, suicide on 46th street Hollywood Boulevard, Send the Corner. Over.”
Then the darkness sails over
And the entire cities are showered with tears from the heavens,
But no one weeps,
Not a single soul…
Sitting alone here,
all by myself,
looking at a reflection that I do not recall.
I see a face looking back at me,
but not my twin,
no I see a pale face,
I see jealously, pain, sorrow, and a frown
I see all the negative.
I see fear,
I see nothing.
I am sitting alone,
in my room
white walls surround me.
I hear the trains blow their horns off in the distance,
and the cars and trucks roaring down the lonesome highways.
I can even the crying and wailing of sirens
blazing down the avenues,
"Where is the fire, folks!?"
The wind blows through my window,
moving the blinds back and forth,
and I sit there alone,
smiling and singing a little.
Sitting there alone,
peaceful and tired
wanting to rest my head,
but scared too face the nightmares.
Too hear the voices of the dead
call out my name.
And I sit there alone
thinking of what once was,
beauty and harmony nomore
in my trial of certainty.
A kestrel dips into an updraft
thinking he knows the world
through silent valleys
around the earth
through the wind
The creature soars ever higher
in great swoops and dives
the horizon curves as it eludes vision
the stars pulse their siren
but thrill denies
their ambient warning
Gust to gust each fades
quicker than the last
whispers carry the weight of wings
and their soulful song breaches sanity
prayers of rightful good
where petty purple banners
crest twinkling hearts
The last thermal ridden
last lyric dies
as flight’s drone fades
upturned wings alone
the sky empty oblivion
as the sun aligns its beady eye
to the looping path of the bird
Two brittle forms
grapple in light
which blots out the senses
what can never be touched
smites the naive bird
an archangel buried
in a crypt
six feet deep.
I lay sleeping with eyes wide open,
I lay sleeping with dreams that have no meaning,
I lay sleeping with nothing to dream about.
I lay sleeping with no care and sleep with eyes blind,
I lay sleeping, there with my eyes wide open.
Seeing the dark change from dark to black.
There is no moon, there is no sky
just purple strokes of paint in the sky.
Take that morning dew smell and close your blind eyes.
Smell the morning, that smell that clicks in your mind.
The smell of childhood dreams,
that as an adult never came true.
Sleeping bare in the nude with your eyes wide open.
Thinking of her, as she is five thousand miles away from you.
Wanting to love and hold her, but no use in crying.
Sleeping their with blind eyes in the dark that dances in the light.
Your lamplight turned down low,
as life trickeles down in its nightgown and yawns for sweet slumber.
Tired from longs days, and sometimes long nights,
wanting to curel in bed and close its blind eyes.
Dusk will soon peek its head through the blinds
and awake life to a new dawn.
She sleeps in the morning, and walks at night.
When he sleeps at night, and walks with a bare nude heart in the morning.
Life climbs over yellow mountains,
and meets her fellow compainion
a handsome fellow with broud shoulders and blessed with an ego
as I sleep there with my eyes wide open.
As I sleep with my eyes blind to what life has intented for me,
and as I raise to walk the lone streets at the break of the dew covered lawn
at the first sweet smells of dawn,
I can see life go on with the handsome man
and I blind and wanting to go to bed.
I dream of dreams that have no meaning
Gardens of cluelessness and raging emotions
tare me down and I am confused on which way to go.
Do I stay here and dream away, blind and half awake
as life slaps me across my broad cheek?
Or shall I walk on with life hand and hand
and regain my vision of the world,
Start to sleep with dreams that make sense
and dreams that are made of gold and have no end?
Dream of fancy dreams that show love and happy endings
I would love that, and I would love to walk with life,
but she is out of my leauge.
And my bed is so cozy and I feel like sleeping.
So I shall sleep on more restless night chashing life down.
I lay sleeping with my eyes wide open.
I lay sleeping with dreams that have no meaning.
I lay sleeping waiting for life to come back from the mountains
and lay beside me.
I lay sleeping with hope of regaining hope and salvage
what is left of my spirit at hand.
Jump up and down like a jackrabbit
running through meadows
running from what?
Could it be heartbreak,
a venemous snake that hides in the grass,
hiding with fangs ready to pierce the tender skin
upon the tight, bronze flesh of everyday life?
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye now!
I need a vacation a long way away from the faceless smiles
and ignorance of young girls, who don't look at you,
who don't show you love and respect.
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye now,
as jumping spiders hop everywhere, crawling eight legs around me
my soul black like carcoal, but my heart still beating
slower this time, not like the days before
and like the jackrabbit running from anything and everything,
I run to seek love and vanish away from the empty voids
that people call, their souls.
Recording a film with no tape,
talking to a woman you love, but not having the guts to tell her how you really feel
Jump my boy, like a jackrabbit, take my advice
tell her before she leaves
turns down the endless avenues of endless dark love
the trees grow taller, taller than you
and you sit there feeling away yourself die, missing out in life.
I cannot see you lose your love.
Say it, say it, Say it!!! Tell her! Tell her! Build the guts up!
Build up the courage, tell her how you feel. Take her by the hand and never say goodbye! Never say goodnight, stay with her till the flight comes in the morning
of the first rays of sun shine through your dorm room take her and love her!
Do not be like me, the jackrabbit! I see no happiness
Reading poetry it makes me sad,
to write of others falling in love and I never finding the one.
People tell me, you'll find yours, have hope
but I am a frightened little jackrabbit
who flees from sounds of deep emotions, not having courage to fall in love,
not building the guts up to tell her how I really feel.
She walks alone, I find my oppertunity and sing my love song
She smiles and moves on,
please tell me I cannot fight anymore.
All I have to say is Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
I need a vacation
to go to some sandy beach on an island of love
and write and write and write, the same poetry that depresses me
but makes you all fall in love with words!
Fiction about love stories, please kiss me
Blue eyed death comes, plays a game of chess with me
I bet twenty, he bets my soul
Kiss me death, the only love I'll ever get,
besides my poet friends who kiss my ass
Listen to my heart, truely, I don't write of beauty
I write for the sorrow soul, the fleeing jackrabbit
running away from love.....
How queer the color of viscera
squarely foreign in my breast
To be the butcher and grim and goddess
All in one
Leaves identity succinct
Or identifies succinctness
If it has been
Then so it was always before
Therein is 'Peace'
Reposed and eyes rolling
Great, vacant saucers on vertiginous axis
She is quite the swollen beast
And on all fronts, she is terrible
If only you'll watch you may notice her growth
A malignant sort
An unwelcome appendage
I'd dash it out but I've already gone
Too pale and dogged in life to succumb
I curse her tenacity
She has a sister, I think
Or maybe a child
A child who lives down deep in my chest
A child who shrieks and tears down the walls
Perhaps she dislikes their pattern
When wind’s silence
heralds boundless oblivion
and the trembles of cracked earth
raise the dust of tears
dried by the boundless footfalls
of sallow flesh
When a thread of gold
brings unearthly thought
and the misconception
of suns fallen
drives foolish men to their knees
in unending tremors
An army of one
frees the air from his fingertips
and stays not his opal blade
as it bites the rotted gray necks
of kings released from their wrongful bliss
by his trembling palms
An army of one
unconstrained by nature’s volume
freed by the sin of his naivety
yet, bound by earth’s oldest secret
as the scarlet sun weeps
its bloodied tears
An army of one
his cloak worn through
by the acid blood of his deception
and his bones stilled;
the branches of a dying oak
which no longer caress the wind
When a man cries himself to sleep,
it is a sad sight to see,
tears roll off his cheek
and onto his bed sheets and pillow case.
When you hear his somber cries,
you can feel his pain
when he wimpers like a child who treds in fear.
No one knows what they do to a man
when they play with his emotions,
lead him on,
take advantage of him.
They don't know what they do to an innocent man
looking for love.
They break his heart that is full of love,
they stab him in the back
when he needs them at his most vulnerable moment
they laugh at him, and tease him,
Do they know what they do to a man?
They slowly kill a man, who just wants a simple kiss on the lips,
they kill a dreamer, a good man, with a big heart.
They drive a man to his bed,
with tears running down his face
and force him to dream of nightmares.
When a man cries himself to sleep,
it is that saddest thing to see.
Goodnight and sweet dreams...
All turned down to the worst
as the children lost innocence,
as the bums drank their last breath away,
as the man eating sharks finding their way,
to the over-crowded sandy beaches,
as the man turn to the woman
and gave her a slap across the face,
as the thef steals in the night,
as the coward goes behind his loved ones' backs,
as the oil lanterns spill over and burn the bridges
to salvation and paradise.
Something always happens to the good guy,
a knife in the back in the midst of dawn,
his woman leaving with another man,
he dying slowly of cancer,
or suffering from intoxication of the blood.
Poison. Poison, ravages his body,
oh, how could God let such things happen
to such a good man?
His life work, his social life, his nirvana
all destroied, burned away, turned to dust.
But with the evil, came the good.
Yes with time and time again
repeating itself in a circle of time,
across the crossed faces,
as blue eyed Death smiles
and as the girls grin,
Everything came into place,
Anyway with evil, came the good.
Indeed it had came right to his front doorstep.
Let Me Go!
I don't want this anymore!
I can't go to sleep at night,
all I seem to do is write.
Sometimes I read...
I read until I finish.
When I finally go to sleep,
I hear the sound of the alarm "BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!"
I can't handle this anymore.
I am going crazy here
and no one seems to notice it, my dear.
I cry myself to sleep.
telling myself everything will get better.
BUT IT DOESN'T!
And I know I mustn't
but I want that knife
just as much as I want that gun
I hate this world
and everything about this girl
She sings and tries to get attention
yet no one gives her the time of day.
She falls into the books she reads
no one knowing, it is escaping, she pleads.
This girl is me,
oh but you knew, right?
Since all I ever talk about is me!
Gosh, can't you see?
I'm my enemy!
I'm my own nightmare!
No one is hurting me!
It is me who shouldn't be let free!
Lock me up!
That way I won't harm myself...
I'd like it if it was someone else
Please, do me the favor
and let me go
for no one can save this girl
from this cruel world.
We have all lost our way
To see starlight gazers
And men with broken hearts,
Seeking love in all of the wrong places;
Vacant lots, where women all looking for something,
But not quite knowing what they look for.
We have all lost our way.
The only hope of humanity
Is the shining sun
That breaks through the blinds of my window,
And the faint memory of me and her
Lying on our backs in a grassy meadow,
Looked up and counted stars.
Cities burn away,
Sky, stars, moon, sun all burn away;
The grassy meadow
Where we once lay, all burns away
Everything burns away,
Memory and desire and love all burn away
With the snap of a finger, and a new man
In her own life,
And I burn away.
A picture of her hung high and praised,
A picture of me, in a dark box
That collects dust, in some lonesome
And dusty, cobweb infested attic.
And I burn away with a new day.
I burn away.
A nightmare that I can’t awake from,
It is endless and repeats
When thoughts of her are all over my mind,
I cannot take such nightmarish reality
Too see her and smile,
And she walks away without a trace
Of ever returning.
And I cry,
And I burn away,
The tears wash the fire away,
And turn me to ash,
The wind picks me up and takes me away.
And for one peaceful moment,
I do not cry,
I do not burn away.
For a moment I am happy
And I smile,
And go away for a while
And let them all sleep in peace.
I Knew Someone Who Was Ready to “End It All!”
I knew of someone who just wanted “to end it.”
Giving up on life, and did not want to “defend it.”
It was a heart wrenching and difficult situation.
He said what he wanted to, with no explanation!
I could see his face and the sad look in his eyes!
What he was going to do next, was anyone’s surprise.
He turned to drugs and encountered addictions.
With this brought much disease and afflictions!
He gave up on the wonderful family that was given.
And turned to a pretty wild and crazy way of livin’!
I told him about a God who loves him very deeply.
As he listened, he began to grow restless and weary.
I reached for his hand and began to pray for God’s power!
It was a miracle! The blood of Jesus changed him that hour!
The spirit of God brought healing and hope to his body!
He was so excited! He rushed out to tell everybody!
The “end” that he wanted, seemed to just fade away!
For the son of the living God, changed him this day!
The glory of God, and the power of Jesus’ resurrection…
Changed him! And got him going in a NEW direction!
He’s so thankful for the blood of Christ’ atonement!
And is a different person now, because of that moment!
This same Jesus loves and can do the same for YOU!
Through the problems of life…
He will see you through!
By Jim Pemberton
The Hearts burnt out
with dying falls and cold, bone chilling winters.
(Love is gone for the fall and winter)
Just me, I stay alone
who walks the slushed streets and I sleep in the dirt grimmed gutters.
The hearts burnt out, but still a hint of love lingers
in the cold evenings of the winter falls.
The cold December nights are always the loneliest time
for a man to live alone in the dirty gutters of the ghettos.
And as the loyalists come marching down the cobblestone streets,
every heart with turn and fear.
The ones that do not go far, shall parish in eternal hell.
For the hearts are burnt out,
like the lamplights on the night of Kristallnacht.
The Jews of Malta, create fornication
and the hearts of the prostitutes hide with bruses and broken blood vessels,
on their faces and hands,
and they will hurry away to the dark shadows of lone alleyways
with hearts skipping beats, and hearts slowly burning out.
I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow
Like a volcano ready to erupt
My soul a hurricane swirling
Around my empty mind and cruel
And forgotten soul.
Pain, feelings so strong,
It cannot be described
On a page with a pen.
I snatch the lunar eclipse
And beauty of the heart goes away,
No sight, no sound;
No pain, no sorrow;
No smile, no frown;
No anything, no everything.
A soul so black,
A heart so weak,
That love is long gone,
And will never return.
No pain is worth feeling,
And no pain such that I hold
Is worth writing away,
No use in finding love again,
When faced with heartbreak
One thousand times before.
No more pain, no more sorrow.
I shall go and sleep away the time,
Till Death comes calling my name,
And lilacs and violets litter my way,
And a single ruby hearted rose
Dries up and slowly dies away.
This is a collaboration I had been working on with a friend a while back. We might change the title. Her name is Rebecca Larkin. She started the poem with the first line and from there we switched back and forth. Wrote it at the beginning of the year sometime; forgot to date it, oops! Anyway, enjoy!
Like dust in the wind, we are doomed to repeat ourselves
Mingling past with present, we collect on the grimy shelves
Of past’s hard keep, falling on repeat
We gain from the pain and strange bittersweet
Taking in the reality-split dreams
The etching pangs of truth bursting at the seams
With every glistening drop of clarity
We engorge on the reliefs of now—a rarity
Thoughts pool in a sludge of black, gleaming like oiled silk
Denials spread like fires; saturated, we bilk
Pain and tragedy strike their resonating, dissonant chords
A darkness and sadness we can only desperately afford
Pain. . .strife. . .repetitious like a swinging pendulum
Achingly perfected rhythms gainst the beating death drum
Slivers of silvery hope shine through darkened clouds
Only to be covered again in menacing, smoky shrouds
Faith is left dying in a pit of despair
As the rest of emotion looms helpless in the air. . .
Nothing seems fulfilling anymore
The replay button fools my mind and cuts me to the core
Round and round it goes again like the jagged tick of a clock
Striving for purpose—screaming for love to find the lock
But only silence escapes, beneath the skin torn lips- nothing remains
The aftermath of quietude aches, scraping against endless pains
hope falls away into a deplorable state; waiting—hoping—for resurrection
And the painful power of truth is forced to gaze at its reflection
Questioning whatever has happened to faith and belief?
And why are the cliffs of sorrow so steep?
Like settling dust we merge our present with the past
Leaving the future on the shelf—too empty—too vast
Squandering the sand of time with nothing left, nothing left
What makes this world go around?
What makes Death walk the Earth
and God sit on his throne and watch over us?
What makes love go around with such favour
and strut along side lonesome avenues?
What does a widow, a motherless child, a Vietnam veteran
and a boy who has had his fare share of heartbreaks,
all have in common with each other?
They were all promised a beautiful life,
free for all to love, free from the pain of betrayal
We are what make the world go around,
I am the poet who sits and looks at love walk down the street,
and watch the blind eyes stare deep in my soul.
I am the poet, that feels the pain of a heart torn in two.
He his the poet who writes of smiles, to forget the frowns
She is the poetress that writes of her success,
in order to forget her past that tortured her soul,
now he and she walk together writing poetry
sharing their love and smiles with the world.
But with smiles, also comes frowns,
with hearts full of love, comes hearts full of sorrow,
and someone has to stay behind and write of the bad
has to write and compose the songs of the sorrowed hearts.
We are all given love,
but it takes some whole lives to understand
the dark mystery that tags along with beautiful love.
Someone has to suffer the pain,
someone has to sacrifice his or her happiness,
so another poet can feel the beauty in happiness and pain.
I am willing to sacrifice my time and heart,
for my fellow poet to feel the smiles grow on their faces
and feel love uplift their heart,
while the black cancer tears apart mine.
I will go on, with what is left of my heart and smile,
and go into my room of creativity
and compose the songs of sorrowed hearts
for future poets, like that came before me.