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Narrative Dark Poems | Narrative Poems About Dark

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Details | Narrative | |

Your Undying Legacy

My heart is so keen on you,
It leaves me cold, relentless, impossible
He fell into the love pools in my eyes,
The light you demand me to hide
He fell so lightly into my waters of secret
Only to see I am so far away

I do not blame you Precious Curse,
Though I cannot bring myself to touch upon his life
If I am to give him something, I will give my all
And with you, ever here, ever taciturn, I can give nothing...

Yearning for anything but the pain,
I fall victim to your bloody embrace
I kiss your battered lips,
Sucking the juices, absorbing your settled tears
They are drying upon your cheek now...
I see the ache of love caught in your eyes,
Your fierce, angry brow,
Head lowered, I sigh

Yes, I do blame you... 
I have blamed you for so long...
You kill me slowly, you consume me
Leaving me in bits for your next meal
You leave me to bleed...
And for you, feel...

The longer you stay into my cove of loneliness
The shorter I shall truly live
He has many times promised me happiness,
Taking my quivering hands, he had whispered, "I care for you..."
And in your lungs at last you heave,
In some eruption of sudden passion-
SHE IS MINE.... now LEAVE.... 
Pathetic, I know, my eyes lit up
At last you have shown me your emotion I so crave...

He sees in me, life... Precious Curse,
He is full of life...full of pain
Whenever I must return to you
He knows your destructive ways
He pities me, he grieves you
If only he had known you when alive...

Your smithered claws run through my hair
Feeding on my kindling despair
You breathe in my sorrowful scent
My life, my body, you resent

Though you cannot do away with me, Precious Curse
Just as I cannot let you go...
Your anger rises as my eyes drift,
To the one waiting at the door

He is insistent, brazen, brilliant,
His eyes never blinking, never deterred 
I beg him to go, though inside I plea he never depart
And your hoarse voice warns him to make his leave
I love it when you fight for me
That is the only life in you I ever see

When you realise I am no longer cold in your embrace
When you see love has strung its light upon my face
When you taste the iron on my lips,
You will know, I no longer love you for love's sake
I love you because I must,
And no one else will see us
As I take the dagger that you have many times punished me with
As I promise you, I will always bleed
You will will feel me tear you to shreds
For your destructive love is not strong enough to grant me death

Choking in my bleeding pools,
I give and I give and I give
As close as can be
The last thing you will see is him and I
Your face no longer capable of crying
Or speaking, or lying... 

Yes, I do blame you... 
I have blamed you for so long...
Now you are gone...truly gone

Sometimes, when my love is fast asleep,
I crave your distant charm
The curve of your assuming lips
Yet well I know I hide all these desires
Deep down in my cove I secretly visit
Knowing your seed grows inside me now
Wallowing in the remnants of our struggle

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New Road

In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.

The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Home behind,
World ahead...

Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Very deep,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...

Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Singing by,
Darkness rising,
Vanishing light,
Hollow flourishing,
Going by,
World ahead,
Home behind...

Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Beyond mountains,
Beyond stones,
Standing strong,
Wandering lost,
World ahead,
Home behing,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...

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Halloween Eve Black Mass Incantation

We Pray In The Name of Our Father Lucifer, 
Which wert in Heaven:

Boil, Boil plague-ridden rats and toads in oil,
With a pair of gleaming snake eyes too.
Mix in fresh hen’s blood and a rabbit’s paw,
With a touch of horse dung and a lizard’s tail too.
Add six cups of Vitriol and a tablespoon of Goldwater.
Stew, Stew this Stygian alchemic brew for ne’r six hours
During Vespers for Our Midnight Black Mass on All Hallows’ Eve.
Serve this unholy sustenance to Our Coven at midnight,
As we pray in Great Lucifer’s name for his guidance
In defeating Jehovah’s forces of good and light.
We do this in the name of Great Lucifer—The Dark One.
We seek Blackness, Darkness, Degradation, and Negation—
As Our Coven has the power of His Power as granted
By His Unholiness when the full moon’s shadow
Crosses the face of the Earth. 
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(October 5, 2014) (Narrative Incantation poetic format)

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The Rose

Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair

Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee

Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark

She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?

To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife

Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest

And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear

And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber

She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee

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In Michigan, the weather can change for the worst in October.
This particular Halloween came a blizzaring.
The lights went out and in a dark, dark room, candles were lit; therein, the opaquest 
narrative was captured.
* With the shape of With figment With look I will invent the human. Through the mind Via light With aspect The being I will project. I saw sadness. It stared directly at me. I gazed back. It begins to glare. I looked away. Why am I afraid? It is an ape, a primate. With child fists, I walked toward this apelike creature and strike out. Finally, I saw more than eyes and it pounces. It is a little child as a man. My hands represented some insight. Would we fight? ** The universe stood as earth. Solar we are to the sky above. Humanity shouts with a hoarse voice. Man, woman, and child stands as an echo. God sent the demons. The sinners are all of us. Through commandment of what Hell is Heaven is not. Demons are with God. The Pacific Ocean is the end of the world. It runs east and west. Why do we not investigate this? [Because our capabilities are limited!] Are we afraid of what we will find? We discovered each other and now we hesitate. Procrastination is a thing that delays knowledge. Are we wise to seek? Demons are with God. Are we? *** Body [body] {Body}! Gut (gut)! Skin and bones wake up! I am a reincarnation of that that is not known. Many have come before me but none was as I am. I am the body for the human to gut a man. However, women are now involved and they want to be in the belly. Instinctive they are but this was only for man to do. Why do they want to be that damned fool? Unconscious to the world that they are within, one would ask self why they want to be like men. The answer becomes to fit in. What if there is one left out? The answer becomes their bodies have been gutted and they are only GI. **** The Moon has no Gods. The Sun is what speaks to us. It tells us prophesy and what the world shall become. We are mongoloid, brown and bronzed spiritual to our existence. Our tribes are of North America. A hundred plus [we] stand[s]. Our land is our strength. We fought. We won. We lost. Died from disease but gave birth once again. Our population stands now and we are healthy. The European man has given our wisdom and knowledge. Our minds are set on our economic growth. We will become political minded. Five hundred nations are we those lost tribes of our history. ***** The mockery of man is a stance of incorrectness. It transforms through government and states that your freedoms are not anything to believe in. You, as people, are nothing but possessions and no one knows who is blessed. You are lucky to be here. Your way of life is given by our nation’s wealth. We are brought together as immigrants and the natives of this country are indigenous. We cannot pretend that we are more than that. We must pedestal ourselves to unity and know that people are only structure to adhere. One came for liberation. Others came via slavery. Nomads were unbound. They let them in yet they were said to be uncivilized. Today we are unified. We are the United States of America bound, bonded, and realized. {We are gratis; free to form our own lives.} ______________________________________________| PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 13, 2014!

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Ghost photographer

Trigger finger on the button as he shoots his victims photograph with cold bullets. He's already gone before the bullet shells hit the ground.
blood runs through there emotionless eyes. it leaks desecrating and tainting the floor with innocent murder written all over it. The bodies twitch on the floor in a horrifying manner to those who witness it. The people called him the ghost photographer because they've never gotten the chance to identify him. Like a shadow, there but not there. real but not existing.
The ghost photographer appears in another location at a wedding, heading there as the evening photographer nobody suspects a thing. Shooting people with the fake camera, clever man plotting to take the bride and grooms life. Engaging conversation with them. They trust him as a nice man however the two later enter a room and he enters as well convincing them to have a couple more pictures taken of them. They agree willingly because they are so happy and unaware of how there night is yet to sink into the pit of blackness. The doors quietly lock shut in the chapel room. He says "Don't even think about saying cheese cause you won't be fucking smiling". Before they get the chance to look confused as to what he just said he hits the button taking silenced "shots" of them piercing there skin and tearing there big day apart as easy as paper. The splatter and drip of blood leaves there deceased bodies as they hit the ground. Suddenly lifeless and unable to begin a life with each other. Everyone's faces drop when they witness the two victims corpses and happiness built up in the day has turned to sadness and horror.

The ghost photographer disappeared into the dark night.
Nobody knows why. But in his mind he is living yet dead, ending others lives and happiness for his own sadistic satisfaction.

Most photographers are happy to capture people's joy. But not this one, he ends it.

He went back to his darkroom illuminated by red lights to take real photographs of all the ghosts of the people he murdered.

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I'll cry tomorrow

Sitting dying alone,
In this dark and dingy place 
It has now become my home..
The only open bar 
In town, I needed something to heal my broken heart
I'm on my 8th round, Going on Nine now!

Swaying on this broken bar stool
As the bartender shouts 
his “last call”, As I'm looking down
and this shuffled ground
As I try a re step my footsteps home
Walking them back In my head
But I'm a stumbling mess

My heart feels like shattering glass
I'm slowly breaking,
Sink-in, Drown-in in the dark-nest
I'm Gasp-in, For breath, Each one Hard-er
than the next!
While the whole world around me are breathing
Fine, I'm falling back into the abyss, 
Broken heart-ed 
This vodka has cut my skin so deep
This broken glass with it's hard edges
Digging, Silting into me
Tho some of my pain was self inflicting 
My heart's beat, is barely beating
That's why I'm drinking
This gin 
Now swallowed, why cant I
swallow my pride With
Dignity, I'm openly seeking darkness 
I'm sorry farther “For I have sinned”
Those sin's I've harbored
Now my hollowed soul's giving In
To that darkness....

My body trembling ,The outcome's looking bleak
I've become so weak
Shaking knees, I can barely stand up
My eye's become teary 
They say its this alcohol that's depressing me
But it's soon becoming my dependency
I'm finding hard to leave it be, I'm hooked....
...To a drip, Anything so I can get my fix
It’s another chapter I've my book
That''s needs to be ripped, Apart
Because I'm hiding be-hide a mask
My face is smiling but inside my heart is scared..

I'm writing this at night 
I'm tired... but my mind's racing fast
while my eyes are wide shut
I'm Trying to sleep..but my mind's
Not giving up..whilst
I'm lying on my friends sofa
I'm unable to get up
Morning rises but I'm slowly dying..

I'm hung over
Pondering on my life and wondering
what it would be like being sober
How can I achieve anything in life
When my only motivation is getting high
And the other half of the time
I'm crying inside 
Too depressed to write
But I wipe my tears 
But I'm still here, On my bar stool from 9 to 5!

The same broken record playing
Saying “I'm going to quit” But I'm not facing
My problems to begin with, I need a Fixative
I'm not telling myself I got a problem to be able to fix it!
Sitting here, Ripping the label off this toxic beer, bottle
I can't look at look at this mirror and face him!
Face it you hit rock bottom...
I cant believe what I have become
I wake up drunk
Where will I end up?
As I look along, A sedimentary I come a pone, A grave with my name above...

As the bar door's are now closing
My heart's ripped open Soaking
In pure emotion
Bartender “Give me two more shots”
And ill mend my way's
Not before a quick pit stop 
To get more drink from this shop
Because I'm getting sick of these sad song's that play
From the broken jukebox!
Or this it me?
And my pain that's eternal bleeding
Thinking that every sad song is talking to me?
I'm leaving.. 

Because I'm lonely
I wonder if anyone get's me?
The feeling of looking back hopelessly
At the bottom of the vodka bottle
Describing my feelings of feeling empty!
I've been here before so it can't be rock bottom

The only thing I adore 
Is my trusty red Pen that's my Savior 
It's a's my blood, That's in its ink
When it hit's the paper
It's that pain, I'm writing with!
Because that inspiration's bleeds through my veins
Just for me to scribble to words on this page
Just so I can throw them away!
Because I think anything I ever do 
Is not good enough for you..
Maybe I should do, More before I get taken away
Maybe if that ambulance had been late
I wouldn't been standing here today
But I still cant make that change

Because My vision, Impaired by the flashing lights 
Of that ambulance
So If I die, today 
At least they couldn't say 
He was just an addict
Who abused his talent...

But I'm still here I tried To drown My 
But I'm Drowning In tear's That I'll cry 

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I was talking to my
therapist about things I can't seem
to understand
and I realized
I was always talking about you-

those calm words you told me
that 2 am I cannot seem to forget
'kiss me hard before you go'
I selfishly agreed
when those rough lips touched my soft ones
I know I am deeply in love

does it bother you?

but I still chose to go
call me a coward, dear
you deserve so much happiness
than to be with a mess like me
but as I slowly walk away
I can feel the lump on my throat

I don't want to leave--

but as I turned around, it was too late
you have already forsaken me.

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Shaken to the Core

Her sad eyes and tear stained face evoked such ambivalent feelings;
I could barely stand to look upon the half-naked child in front of me. 
She turned her face toward me with a pained look begging for help.
Maternal feelings welled up within for this pitiful tangled haired waif. 

Gaping in abject horror, I observed the orphan's frail arms wrapped 
tenaciously around a dead rat and held close to her dirt smeared body. 
I sensed this sewer 'pet rat' had been her only source of comfort in life. 
The one thing she turned to, when sad or hungry, would never again be.
While resisting the urge to gather her up in my arms and dry her tears, 
still I desired to sympathize... whispering, "Don't cry honey, it'll be OK". 
I lied, knowing it wouldn't.  Besides what could I do with so little to give. 
I turned and walked away not wanting to face my growing sense of lack.

I awoke with a start, shuddering, deeply disturbed and troubled to tears.
Sometimes the vivid images, like a horror movie returning to haunt me,
make me question, "Who is that wretched child so forlorn and dejected?
The memories shake my very soul, the hidden message still eluding me. 

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Night Angel

They needed help
Walking alone in the dark.
The man.
The child.
A broken down car.
The child frightened,
But not understanding
The terror
That would soon
Come her way.
Her parents petrified
That their baby was gone,
Over forbidden images
That crowded their way
Past ice cream sundays
And birthday parties
And wedding days.
A passer-by.
A doer of good deeds.
He stops.
He sees.
He looks into
the little girl's eyes.
The girl speaks,
"This is not my dad"
And the coward
who took her,
He runs.
He hides.
The passer-by,
Believing he saved
A child
From a long, cold walk,
In reality
Saved a child
From a long, cold death.

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They listened to your clever lines,
Felt guilty when you gave them blame
Bought in to your stick man stories
The anecdotal evidence you proclaimed

So now adoption is the enemy
Christian families are a villain 
Gotcha day is doom's day
A horror story of joy killing

They believed you, "He was trafficked!"
But if that was true then what went wrong
The dollars would have moved me out of there
If these books were credible I'd have been gone

Of course you knew the true reality
Your agenda was so thinly veiled 
There isn't this army of rescuers
For years adoption numbers have fell

I'm not copy for your editors
Don't care about best selling lists
I wasn't a child for any Catcher's
Those kinds of children rarely exist

You'd think there was an evil industry
By the awful things you wrote
You created your desired fiction
The fact is agencies are going broke

So don't imprison me with narrow labels
I'm just a hurting human being
I'm not a product or a talking point
I'm a somebody, not a something!

No one shopped for me like it was Walmart
I'm a fatherless child, now an aged out orphan
I have a name, hopes, and fears
You sold me out and made a fortune! 


Sponsor: Chris D. Aechtner
Contest Name: Anything Goes

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The Empty Tissue Box

My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do 
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view

I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused

I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone

So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss

April 14, 2013

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Portrait Of Red

Pain is just another form of medication, feeding the demons that nest inside.
A temporary fix, a band aid per say, covering the secrets I am trying to hide.

I am like the right hand to the devil, with the ability to manipulate others thoughts and emotions.  Exploiting there fears, insecurities and dreams, I can flip in a split second, merely to show my complete and utter devotion.

My eyes and ears are magnified by ten, a gift to some but a burden to me.  I close my eyes to try and escape for a brief moment just to feel free.

Intrigued by the sharp edges of a blade, and the power that it contains.  Just a simple brush across my skin, paints a beautiful portrait of red, dripping like falling drops of rain.

I hurt myself on the outside to kill the evil that lives within.  I'ts relief flowing through my veins, with a rush of instant gratification to make me grin.

The truth to any story always has an open window, it will sneak it's way through.  The eyes can be read like a paper back novel, every word, every image, a tragedy but true.

I'm always aware of my situation and my surroundings, even though it appears I am not paying attention.  I see all, I hear all, studying anyone and everyone requires my full concentration.

Fantasying about death and the peace it brings, oddly is what makes me smile.  To finally put an end to my journey in hell, only keeps me in denial.

Overwhelmed with exhaustion at the end of everyday, I lay my head to rest.  I think to myself that maybe someday, I will finally pass life's test.

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Sleepless Nights

Insomnia, familiar friend,
crawled into bed this summer night
so once again, inflamed with dread
I wander now in pitch of dark 
and touch the places, now by heart, that sprawl unstirred by weary minds

This lonely place, where I used to come
where armless grief, and headless doubt
and worry filled the rooms
I know you cold, my land of oz
So ruthless do you change your face
into a place I once refrained

But,  don't pretend to make me fear, toxic robber of my sleep
I've known you much too long
You masquerade in shades of gray
And now I know that dark of night, is not the blackest thing
And room by room, I'll play the game
until the light of day

The shadows magnify your art
and though they magnify my loss of sleep
and while I've tossed and turned in vain
I've lost the lonely albatross
that pulled against the grain

From hooded thresholds I embark
to find a language of the dark
A liquid language of a mystic night, 
that switches on the light

I've walked the halls of ghosts I knew, and those I hope to meet
I've felt the stares, and shared myself, no secrets left to keep
But not tonight, familiar friend
you bask in myth I understand
I'll fill the tasks that need my hands, until the light of day...

For Leonora Galinta's Contest

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Beyond the crave for death
All I sought was first,
Weep-not my newborn soul
Where fireflies shine lighter than the lamps
And fishes swam faster than their homes
Like  trampled troubled tramps,
Then, demons also cry.

Groans and moans of pain,
Down they roam like rain
Memories sparked with flashes of feisty flare
For all that is left is nothing but darkness
Piercing the thread of our bond
That even angels dare not dare
Then, demons also cry

Here, days brimmed with sadness
To miscarriage of nights darkness
That even birds glide backward
And when asked why, we say, its nature to nurture
Conscience lye frozen in muss, has God punished us?
Que sera, sera and all go wayward,
Then, demons are also crying
						By Tutuola michael

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A Dark Man

         This piece is dedicated with love to J.E. Gauthier, Jr. Active addict and father. 
Only by the grace of God may he be saved from the error of his ways.

 For years a dark man walked through a seemingly revolving door
 Steadily leaving his wife and kids as he searched for something more
 Occasionally calling home every now and again
 In his voice they could hear the taint of black sin
 Back then life on the road meant drugs money and women far as the eye could see
 He said he'd never look back 'cuz he was born free
 Life grew emptier as he grew older
 The drugs grew heavier as his heart grew colder
 His four children left behind with no place to call home
 From day one they made it in this world alone
  For years a dark man walked through a seemingly revolving door
 Steadily leaving his wife and kids as he searched for something more
 Occasionally calling home every now and again
 In his voice they could hear the taint of black sin

 Every few years he'd arrive unannounced offering money and a hug
 All while using the garage to hide his drug
 His spitting image could smell his guilt a mile away
 She rolled her gloomy blue eyes in unison with every false word he had to say

 Today his girls are grown raising girls of thier own
 December came and went
 February turned to Lent
 On a stormy midnight he still turns to his blue eyed spitting image
 As the clouds clear she is again lost in the scrimmage

 She lies awake with a bottle of wine in hand
 On her mind weighs a dark man
 His ways make him lonely and lost
 Yet to her death she will fight for him at all costs

  For years a dark man walked through a seemingly revolving door
 Steadily leaving his wife and kids as he searched for something more
 Occasionally calling home every now and again
 In his voice they could hear the taint of black sin

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Sins and Virtues Chapter Two

Turning her back to the wedding guests Lust throws a bouquet of Poison Ivy and Venus Flytraps 
her head.  Stepping in front of Sloth, Envy snatches the the bouquet out of the air.  "Nice catch Envy" 
said Sloth with slow slurred speech.  "Thank you Sloth and I do believe green is more my color".  
Turning around to see who caught the bouquet Lust wasn't a bit surprise to see Envy holding the 
Poison Ivy and Venus Flytraps.  "Well Envy I guess you're next to be wedded off" stated Lust.  Pride 
motions for Hatred to release the owls.  Unlocking the huge cage Hatred releases the owls.  Slow to 
take flight the great owls flap their wings and ascends into the darkness.  "Let's get this party 
started.  Turn on the music" yelled Greed.  As the sins partied the night away the sun came rising in 
the country Tranquility.  "Are you ready to spend all eternity together?"  Loyalty asked Love as they 
stood on their balcony.  "My dear, dear, husband soon to be you already know the answer to the 
question you ask".  As Loyalty and Love stand locked in a warming embrace being kissed by the 
rays of the sun the two share a kiss of their own.  Beep, beep, beep "Well this is a perfect time for my 
communicator to beep" breaking her embrace with Loyalty, Love answers her communicator.  
"Hello Faith how are you?"  "I'm fine Love and how are you?"  "I'm ready to start this new era in my 
life".  "I'm looking over your wedding file.  Are there any last minute changes you want to make?"  
"No Faith everything's perfect".  "I'm outside of your house waiting on you Love.  Let's get going".  
"I'll be right down.  I have to go Loyalty".  Grabbing Love by the waist and pulling her close Loyalty 
whispers in her ear "Are you sure this is what you want?"  "I've wanted you when I first saw you.  
Now if you'll excuse me Faith is waiting for me". 
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red Seven aka The Green Poet aka The Brown Philosopher

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Just for Me

In the past I remember how things were so simple
When I was little my cheeks had such cute dimples
Looking back I remember how sweet I was as a child
When I think again my heart told me I was so wild
Yet, in time my simple choices was revealed as true as anyone
The reason I was the way I am today, I did things, to get done
Finishing lots of my undone ideas was so incredibly hard
So I figure my heart and choices should never hold in no bard
I never thought I would learn heart aches and pain
With such under statement I did things for no gain
I was a child who held true to what he has learned
But as we got older those kinda perspective would get me burned
When I made up my mind that people was not kind
I led myself in a confusion that I was blind
In the past I do recall that seeing is believing
So I was the one who stood their with friends leaving
Alone, I felt I did not belong, I cherish each person who knew me
I got older too see how the world works it stung me like a bee
The feeling of tingling ran through my vain
My view of the world and people who knew me was stained
Now I know they are out for their selves with no kind feelings
Life I know is just a joke because of who I hung out with seeing
Today as I look at the world it is in such shambles and astray
And rather fallow everyone I just walk away

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New Paths

A new path is what we seek.
The surroundings are taking a peek,
Going through, very meek,
Seeing no bleaks,
Getting piqued,
While hearing creaks,
In the new paths that we seek...

The new path is what is found,
Going through forests bound,
Going through the path inbound,
With soothing and raging water sounds.
Walking confound,
Silence profounded,
Sight astounded,
Passed through burial grounds...

Seeking for another way around,
Noises resound,
Spirits surround,
The paths newfounded,
Our instincts compounded,
Followed by the hounds,
Echoes in ultrasounds,
Passed through mysterious breeding grounds...

Going to stamping grounds,
Trying to get off this ground,
With those burial mounds,
Death moving the wheels around,
Silhouettes running aground,
Trying to leave safe and sound,
Passing through some hunting grounds...

Seeking for common grounds,
The mistaken path redounded,
Regretful screams abound.
Plans propounded,
Though some are fouled,
Throughout the paths that were found...

However, most are lost and wounded,
Most tended to walk out,
Some minds and hearts full of doubts.
Hearing salvation shouts,
From all these new paths walked and found...

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The Stranger in the House

I wander through this house
As silent as a mouse

Though it is my own I feel I've been away
I'm rather speechless, having not much to say

I see my brother working in the shed
Just passing the time as if he's seen red

I see my other brother smoking a cigarette
With no enthusiasm... has he too seen red?

I do my daily routine
Pace, contemplate and clean

Though something is not quite right
This summer day bears no light

I come into the living room
Usually lively... filled with joy

Now it's naked and abandoned
Like a toddlers chest of old toys

But wait... I see Mother on the couch
She's sad with wet crimson face

She doesn't even say hello
Has my coming here been a waste?

"Why are you crying Mother
Have I done something wrong?"

She just sobs and sobs
... a rather disquieting song

My father looks down at her
With a smile

But something about him
Seems quite vile

"I miss him... I miss him so much"
She cries so helplessly

"Who do you miss Mother?
I don't understand what you mean..."

My dad buts in with no consideration
Revealing horrible secrets in such wicked display

"Alright, alright... I confess... I killed him!
But quite you're crying about it, it's better off this way!"

It all comes to me
In such a sudden burst

I feel the intense hatred
So much it hurts

I'm not here... I don't exist... (at least not anymore)
I'm the stranger in the house!

But soon I'll get my revenge
I'll make Father feel as tiny as a mouse!

I know what you've done
I should've known all along

I will tell everyone
And correct this home gone wrong

I'll come to life again! I'l---


Rooms dark...

Blanket wet... I feel cold...

Why am I laying down? Was all that just a---

"Morning son! I've made you breakfast;
Scrambled eggs and french toast, your favorite!"

Could he really? ... no...
Just a dream...

NOTE: This entire dream actually happened to me. The only thing that was fiction was the part about my dad making me breakfast in the morning.

For Russel Sivey's Dream Contest

03 - 19 - 2013

Details | Narrative | |

The Old Man

Up on a hill there was an old house and in it lived Abigail, a young lady without a spouse. One day her doorbell rang and she went to the door. There stood an old man, his head to the floor. He appeared scared and weak so she let him come in, for if she didn’t it’d be a sure sin. The old man smiled and gave his thanks, and she said, “Not to worry, there’s no need to thank.” Abigail and the elder talked for quite a long time. Sharing story after story, and soon drinking wine. The two became very good friends and laughed, and laughed ‘til night came to end. When the next day dawned, they went for a walk, down at the pond they decided to stop. It was frigid and misty, but they enjoyed the stroll because their friendship was warmer than the wind’s dreadful cold. As they stood in front of the calm, cool pond, Abigail asked, “Where do you come from?” The old man laughed a deep, dark laugh, “I come from the boneyard, the place of last breaths. I am the man, which many name Death.” The creeping old man then pulled out a knife and slashed Abigail’s throat before she could fright. Her life left instantly, her body grew cold, and the elder’s smile sparkled like gold. The pond was hungry and the old man knew that Abigail’s corpse would have to go soon. He tied a brick to both of her feet and tossed her away into the deep. As her body sunk into the watery blue, the elder stood there and felt renewed. Back on the trail the aged man went. Not a worry in mind, no remorse ever meant. He did what had to be done, to the grave his soul belonged. The elder approached another ol’ house. He rang the doorbell and waited, innocent as a mouse.

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My friends and I had midnight hide and seek
One had to stand by a tree and not peek
In my state of hiding great I was hard to find
My friends decided to just be unkind
They all got together and decided to hunt me down
I first hid in the river near my house and almost drown
When they walk close by me I silently move through the grass
It was very hard to see, but I crawled a long time and almost ran out of gas
Then I heard one say that they were going up and wait by the tree
I had an idea that made a way to make them see
A shadow that ran in the distance thinking that would be
I had my horse pull a little manikin to make them think it was me
My friends took their flashlight and shined it toward it
I thought I had them but one thing was clear they did not fall for it not a bit
They all laugh and started to call out my name
They all asked how the heck did you have time to pull that trick that was so lame
I did not answer so they kept on looking for me, but I was so quick 
Some of my friends started to get really mad and tick
I was a master of doing weird things they all knew what I can do
The night was still young and the grass was collecting dew
I decided to make a distraction once again
To think of it, it would probably make the night end
My friends finally surrounded my tree house
I was quiet, so quiet, more than a mouse
I had some rope in the tree house to make my escape
To distract them I made a loud noise like an ape
The tree that my tree house was in was at least forty feet up
I had some stash in my tree house a drink or two in a cup
My final hour is about to end I did not want my friends to catch me till I got to the tree
I took the rope and tide it on a branch and pushed off and that was the key
I landed on the garage roof and sneaked my way to the tree
My friends knew me to well that they plan things before I could see
They had a fish net ready for me to step into
I thought that was kinda wise and some what like pew
The few feet by the tree there was two of my friends that was ready
Up in the tree they both jumped down and pulled me up in the net fast and steady
They thought they had won, the person had to tag me before I touch tree
She ended up having to get something to stand on to reach me
I swung my weight back and forth till I ended up touching and the game ended
My friends and I were so full of surprises and that is what the game handed

Details | Narrative | |

Thug City USA

Ferguson, Missouri
aka Thug City USA. 

Details | Narrative | |

A Black Coffee's Chill

Tossed my slippers, walked barefooted
through the alley of my wall where my paintings are adorned, 
saw the canvasses lined neatly on wall
where dim light of longings path throughout the hall...

Chosen good ones, brewed best
aroma of this black coffee so crisp, 
haunts me in a night's fright
of tormenting silence throughout the night! 

A teaspoon of sugar is added 
with this black coffee in my mug is mixed, 
halt for a while to smell it's effects, 
savoring the bitterness as it touches my lips.

I traced to hallway, stood at the glass window, 
3: 30 in the morning, no one not even any vehicles flow, 
into the streets lights blinking routinely
as my mind wander for an unhealthy imaginary.

A shot of gun, bullet on my shoulder
as I escape from a path so dark in my mind which alter, 
I as fast as I could
and lift the gun out of my motorbike's hood! 

A shadow...laughing and running
in my mind he is chasing, 
I stop, look and lean
on the dark wall of the 14th street so clean.

But wind blows suddenly steadfast, 
dirt and dust kissed my face and blinded my eyes, 
I am blind for a split in 15 seconds
and there the man stood afront of me and beckons! 

Grabbed my arm and snatched the gun
twisted me facing the wall with his arm so damn, 
I felt his anger through his breath 
and say, 'Lady, end of your road, enough, have a rest! '

Then he forced me to face him
grabbing me by hand so firm, 
his weight upon me, so close I can't breathe
and my surprise, his face mellowed and plant me a kiss! 

Split seconds, that vision came
and I realized I am so lame, 
that imaginary vision strikes me well
and brought my black coffee to chill! 

A Black Coffee's Chill...!?

Inner Whispers

(I believe that visions happen in split seconds. Can this be a warning or a message?)

Details | Narrative | |

Noises in my head

Unless you understand ,
What it's like to have noises inside your head 
Loud sometimes buzzing ,always keeping beat.
They say to have tinnitus is temporary you see
But when I have these noises, they envelop me.               

Lose my concentration, 
Cannot sit and think.
Want them to stop buzzing. 
Like cicadas on a tree. 
Constantly building intensity and force.

I feel that there will come a day
When I stand some where and scream
Tell each and ever person
To remove the sounds I hear
For once nothing would be good.

I know it's my condition
To listen every day 
To buzzing crackling noises
That never go away.
If I'm lucky they diminish. 

There not as loud as some
Days that had me crying
Wanting just to run
This is my affliction 
I battle every day. 

Because I let a surgeon
Roto root my head
He was supposed to fix my sinus
Not turn on headphones
Buzzing every day. 

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Battling Addiction

No one knew his background, he did not speak of family 
Not even the one left, whom he felt was a burden
His younger sister with whom he’d been out of touch

Financially, he was doing alright, handsome and perfectly fit
Friends wondered why he wasn’t dating
When asked, he’d merely laugh it off

If they only knew the burden he bore, haunted by his crippling addiction
A demon that had seized his body now hungered for his soul
Making its lustful demands at will by day or night

At first he seemed to keep his secret well, appearing as, just one of the guys
While apart, he rode the subway daily
With eyes of a hunter he surveyed

A different girl he took each time, In his home or some dark street corner 
When he had no access to girls, alone, he’d easily play “solitaire”
Or browse the magazines and internet

Secrets like acorns take a while to grow, his were no different; just biding 
Til the day of discovery arrived unannounced
Hidden files on the office hard drive

Confronted, he walked away in shame, and some ray of light seared his mind
At home he bagged and trashed his toys
Especially his favorite, the laptop

Temptation came fiercer and with maddening force, took him on a binge
That night he sank to the lowest belly of the beast
Ignoring his sister’s desperate call for help 

When he'd had his fill of a sordid, assortment of lust, a flicker of conscience 
emerged from within
Off he ran in the cold, pouring rain to find his sister alone 
Alone, in the bath with her wrists cut; her precious life slowly ebbing away

It was mercy which kept her alive, barely, and by her hospital bed he sat for 
three days!
Later, outside her room in the parking lot as he left, beyond broken he fell 
upon his knees 
And through his tears and the rain, he cried out loud , “God have mercy!”

That’s how a man, bankrupt; without love or self worth gained a second 
At a most pivotal time in his life; in need of redemption
The shackles of addiction laid broken in torrent once more to be 
Inspired by the HBO movie, "Shame"

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Dark Dreams

What do you dream
deep in the night when
all are asleep and the moon 
shines bright?

Do you dream of fairy's
and elves or monsters
and demons with long
pointy tails?
Where do you go when
they take you away?
perhaps to a haunted
house or a beach by
the bay.Do you dream 
of a castle upon a hill?
where a strange man
lives off of blood that's 
been spilled.

What do you dream deep
in the night when all are
asleep and the moon shines
bright?DO you travel through
a forest within your dream
to hear howling at the moon
before a blood curdling scream?

Can you escape when your
dreams turn from light into
horrible madness and heart
pounding fright?you turn around
your in a different space still fast
asleep your eyelids begin to
flutter at a maddening pace.

The doctor is focused lightning
will strike giving life to his unholy
terror this night.What do you dream
deep in the night when all are asleep
and the moon shines bright

A young girl waits to invite you in
her long slithery split tongue touching
her chin.You climb the stairs to face
a horror unknown the devil dwells
here to make her his own.Morning
arrives it was all just a dream or 
rather a nightmare all to real it seemed.
What do you dream deep in the night
when all are asleep and the moon
shines bright?

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The Morning Star

The Morning Star
By Nate Spears
There’s clarity in the depths on my deepest thought
I’m never blind to a world of darkness
I’m challenged by whatever in time
Defeated by my ambition in others

Close to my last day
But far from my last night
And I’m light years away
From my very last fight
The actions of the man
Creates the path of his life
The absence of the man
Restrains his rights
The mentality of a man
Saves the day he's granted 
The intent of the man
Leads him the way the earth has planned it

 So feel my rose as it fades 
Feel my pedals bring a new days
As I sprout beyond the stars
To a galaxy that stands out
The route brings the creation to light
After the day 
After the night
After the darkness
After my arrival 
The morning is tainted
The day is seen in a human’s eye 
Sight has been sinful before and after
You and I
This is the heart filled reason
For the birth Christ.

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A Killer Addiction

The hooks went deeper,
A phantasmal itch.
Guiding him steeper,
More soul scars needing stitched.

Needle a quiver,
Injecting a mark.
Gambit so clever,
The results were stark.

Collapsing in a pile,
Upon a dirt floor.
Nightshades bile,
Straight to the core.

A beautiful view,
With violent convulsions.
Tearing his sinew,
All to feed his compulsion.

In this small dirty shack,
His mind a euphoric mess.
Retribution at his back,
Twisted emotions, taken roost in his chest.

He cupped his face with,
Scarred hands of leather.
Salt tears drip,
With revulsion and pleasure.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never..."

For the: What Do You Make of This? Contest.
-The first image of the eye with a skull inside the pupil.
-Comments/Criticism appreciated

Details | Narrative | |

Don't Leave Me

I can't imagine being alive without you
I can't imagine what it will be like when your gone
I don't know what I'll become without you
Maybe I'll just run
Run away from everything and leave everyone behind
Maybe I'll find a way to be close to you
Because I won't believe you died 
My heart will ache so much more 
Tears will always run
My eyes will hold the wisdom 
That you bestowed upon me young
And my recklessness will be noticeable
People will wonder why
Why am I running when the person I needed most died
How can I face my life when I can't do anything right
I won't believe you have gone away
When God decides to take you
I'll still come by your house and always expect an answer
I Love You Gamma
You Taught Me About My Heritage  
Please Remember Me When God Takes You
Please Guide Me In the Right Way

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The Good-bye Kiss

I lay, half asleep in the dark morning, listening to her get ready for work.
She opens the door to the dressing room, turns out the light,
and cautiously moves in the darkness to the side of our bed
where she feels her way with her hands up my body,
accidently caressing my erection,
to find my face and give me a good-bye kiss.
“Have a nice day”, she whispers; 
I groan in a sleepy reply.

I hear her go down the stairs and into the kitchen.
I semi-consciously listen to the sounds of a quick morning breakfast being prepared.
I hear her gather her work-day stuff;
open and close the front door;
and open and close the door to her car that I imagine is frost covered
in the still dark driveway, illuminated by a lone, fog incased street light.

I hear the sound of the car choking to a start and drift away down our lonely street.
I relapse into a deep, morning slumber.

Awakened by the sound of the front door opening again;
I wonder what it is she forgot this time.
I follow the sounds of steps coming up our stairs and
feel the slight smile being painted on my face
anticipating another good-bye kiss and, perhaps,
another accidental brush against my still erect member.

With eyes still shut by left-over sleep, I mumble, “Forget something?”

The quick, bright flash of light accompanying the loud bang from the loaded weapon
are the last sensations I experience in this life here on earth.

Whether it was her;
a paid assassin; or,
a random crime -
I will never know.

Details | Narrative | |

Sins and Virtues Chapter One

Covered in darkness wearing a veil of evil the bride stands before her groom 
and a vile host of wedding guests.  The heat and hate that filled the air was so 
thick that they all choked on it.  Baffled and amazed that Lust the biggest slut 
ever was about to be wed to Greed.  Everyone watched with anticipation as a 
union of sin was joined in unholy matrimony.  The words that flowed from 
the mouth of Pride the priest cut through the air like swords.  "Disgustingly 
wicked we have come together in the presence of demonic forces to behold 
the joining of this devil and slut in unholy matrimony.  This band and 
covenant of marriage was established by evil in darkness.  Lust will you have 
Greed to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage?  Will 
you obey him, lay with him and fulfill his sexual desires as long as the both of 
you shall live?"  With the flames of hell burning in her eyes Lust answers "I 
will".  "Greed will you have Lust to be your wife; to live together in the 
convenant of marriage?  Will you supply and adorn her with riches as long as 
you both shall live?"  With a twinkle in his eyes that sparkles like gold Greed 
answers "I will".  "By the powers invested in evil the bride and groom may kiss".  As their lips 
touched their 
wedding guests were as silent as a corpse.  Turning her back to the wedding 
guests Lust throws a bouquet of Poison Ivy and Venus flytraps over her head.  
Stepping in front of Sloth, Envy snatches the bouquet out of the air.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The Green Poet aka Red Seven aka The 
Brown Philosopher

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Darkest Day

In loving memory of Silly

The ominous clouds brew, icy darkness looms,
Evil cackle flashes sparks of its menacing fangs,
Sinking them deep into my soft yellow downy,
Yanking me apart, leaving me naked and lonely.

I shiver, tremble and chatter.
Mama, mama, where have you been?
I look at my nest up in the tree,
Mama, mama, why did you leave me?

Gnarled tree branches snatched away my home,
Clawing, ripping and towering tall over me,
The fall - blurred vision of trees, terror painfully gnaws,
Now, only, cold and numbness as I cannot feel my claws.

I inch forward slowly to find a worm.
Mama would have picked some for me.
But now, I scarce can see no hope,
The bittersweet taste of the worm makes me choke.

Suddenly, I find I am nestled in a little girl's hands.
The slightest tinge of warmth delights me,
Gently, she ruffles through my scarce feathers,
Puffing up, I brace the changing weather.

The pungent smell of the rain stings my nostrils,
I chirp helplessly in disgust,
Tears from the sky pelt on me, lashing out angrily,
I retreat, sink back in, and cry along silently.

Her home smells of fresh toast,
Mine smells of juicy worms, but I settle in anyway.
The fall has crushed my feet in its cruel hands,
My feet are broken, I cannot stand.

For the next few hours, I wallow in misery.
She knows nothing about my agonising pain,
But fits me into a sock to keep me warm,
As I listen to the sighing trees mourn.

The sock begins to feel cold and icy,
I try to swallow the slimy papaya she mushed,
But in my throat, the concoction swells and becomes thicker,
Burning sensation, daylight flickers.

I shiver, tremble and chatter.
Mama, mama, where have you been?
The rain distorts my view of my tree, 
Mama, mama, why did you leave me?

You guaranteed my freedom one day
You never said the price I had to pay
To never see another sun ray

If my life were a thread, it would now have frayed
What little daylight I saw had become grey
And as I cuddled up and started to pray

I became an angel today.

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Little Red was riding all alone

but she lost her way back home

Sweet Mommy, ready with her jam and pancakes

waited for her dear Little Red all day

but where did she go?

where did she go?

that night was starless

and the wind was blowing so cold

Sweet mommy got so worried

so she called up Little Red on the phone

and asked the little brat where did she go

"mommy dont worry, please be calm", she answered

"i'm here at the city to hang out.

got a new baby, and by the way, grandma's ok, the wolf is dead

I'll be fine. i promise... I'll be home at ten"

So Sweet mommy stayed awake

waiting for her dear Little Red

But no Little Red came at ten

"that stubborn brat...", sweet mommy said

Again she called up Little Red

but the daughter's phone was unattended

It was already past eleven

"tomorrow, she'll have a good beating..." the mother said

It was past twelve already

when Sweet Mommy's phone rang

It was Little Red with a trembling voice

crying to her out loud

"Mommy, mommy...i'm so scared...please pray!

My baby's drunk and our car lost its brake

Mommy, i'm so sorry for what i've done and said

Mommy, mommy...I Love you...Oh shit!!!"..then the phone was dead

That night was starless

The wind was so cold

Where's Little Red now?

Nobody knows.

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Swan song

The passionate young man on his way to his love
Walked by a lake carrying a snow-white dove
Inside his shirt he held it close to his heart
When he heard a song - an enchanting work of art

The melody was captivating, full of sorrow -
The cries of a soul for whom there’s no tomorrow
An unknown fear gripped the young man’s heart 
Dark crevasses of life to him were an unknown part

So full of life and hope, inevitability he never had to face
The source of the irresistible sound he wished to trace
He looked behind the dense brushes hiding the water
On seeing a wondrous swan his agitated mind grew calmer

He stood there mesmerized, the scene not comprehending
And a chill he felt from the bottom of his spine ascending
Why does something as beautiful as this must end?
Against a dark premonition himself he could not defend

The song told him everything that was, and ever will be
As he stood there listening, in his mind’s eye he could see
The birth of dreams and hopes, the path and the finish,
The igniting spark, the flame and the death of every wish

The swan sang his last and was swallowed by the lake
Slowly the young man from his vision did wake
He felt the dove in his shirt frantically flutter
He gently held it high and let it go, not a word did he utter

Innocence cannot build his nest in a bosom laden 
And burdened with knowledge so dark and craven
The young man continued his journey to meet his darling
A long shadow followed him in his footsteps crawling

Across the lake on yonder side, hidden by the morning fog
An old man, frail and haggard, sat quietly on a bone-white log
He heard the swan too, and watched it get swallowed by the deep
But at this lonely funeral his half closed eyes did not weep

He felt it in his bones, and knew the end was near 
So the swan song filled his feeble mind with fear
Since he was a young man he searched for the answer
The question being: What comes when to death we do surrender?	

He looked to the sky but in vain, he begged but to no avail
The heavens did not open; his body and spirit were broken
When with the last notes of the swan song resounding
Asking for a sign, he saw a dove above the clouds climbing

On his crooked legs he stood as straight as he could
Raising his hands he pleaded, “Take me, if you would”
The solemn swan song became a victorious celebration,
A joyous symphony of the never ending glory of creation

The frail old body fell back onto the bone-white log
Never again to emerge from that otherworldly fog
But a peaceful smile on the old man’s face remained
Having his long-lost innocence of youth finally regained

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Puzzled Pieces

It was a dazzling day.
In the park where we gathered.
I watched the sprinkler spray.
Whilst Oleander got lathered.

A pierce of minty laughter.
Came from my mother.
The day, now full swelter.
Brought mephitic curses, from father.

My mother,
A piece, of distinct edges, shapes, and color.
My Father’s piece,
Gossamer... A ghost in the Parlor.

My aunt buzzes ‘round,
Looking to peck.
Her greatest skill,
Tearing wealth from flesh.

She is an ugly thing,
Constantly tithing kin.
Her tabs busted,
Only darkness within.

My uncle walks water,
Crying divine inspired droll.
Then he sees foreign breasts,
And his eyes start to roll.

He is piously loathsome,
A delusional winner.
His piece, contrasting color,
A chronic Casanova of a sinner.

My grandmother sits,
By a row of briar’s.
From here smelling sweet,
Closer and the peril gets dire.

She is a dandy,
Addicting to be around.
But when her corner piece shows,
It can cut to the ground.

My grandfather rests,
In the middle, on a bench.
The tether that keeps,
We are bolts, He is wrench.

His piece.....
To us much renowned.
His piece is the core,
It holds me around.

There it is, my family puzzle.
And on the fringes I sit.
See, I’m an edge piece,
That doesn’t quite fit.
With my teeth on a muzzle.


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My Hidden Fear

People are my weakness and hidden fear
I just feel that some words they say set me in tear
For example I gave a person a smile one day and they gave me a glare
I did not know that smiling in the world today cause people to stare
These types of stare gave me chills down my spine a feeling that made me blind
Why? why is my weakness the people who are very unkind
Hiding is all I can do when people give me a unkind view
I get to a point that my fear seems to wonder and stew
People are who they are and what should I even do
I don't understand that they are evil and some times nice too
My hidden fear are people just because they are always around
That is no argument and my feeling are perfectly sound
The hate builds up in my mind, but does not bother, how my heart feel
I learned to undergo a change that my feelings become like steel
Hard as it should be in situations needed I forget how to use it
So it becomes my weapon and it is to some people heartless just a bit
My hidden fear is what I see in people today
They harm others and they think it is okay
That is why I fear my feelings for others at times because it is so confusing
My hidden fear is some what bad and some what a blessing

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It was dark, dark, so very dark
blacker than the blackest black
no full, half, quarter or sliver
as if the moon had fled in terror
as if it knew something I did not
as if it knew my time was at hand...

Something brushed my ear
A flapping sound in the distance
wheeling back closer, closer
A slap on my face then I knew
I knew then it would return
to perch on my shoulder...

to croak it’s haunted wisdom
to recall ancient, forgotten fears...
“Oh no foolish lad, not forgotten
only buried, only denied. Face it”

It’s mighty claws drew blood
It’s mighty beak slashed my face
I collapsed face down and bled
bled it out, soaking the earth red...

Quoth The Raven:
“Turn now and look to the east”
the sun was rising...

*For: Kelly Deschler’s ‘The Raven’ contest

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Tell Me Isn't So Bill Cosby

I have a very negative opinion
of most of the Hollywood crowd.
Many of them are rich snotty assholes,
clueless commie loving SOBs
who think they are international statesmen.
But I must admit I thought Bill Cosby
was a very decent human being.
WOW! Was I ever mistaken!
Tell me it isn’t so Bill Cosby!

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Vile Human Scum

Michael Moore and Seth Rogen.

Details | Narrative | |

Muslims Mad At Beyonce

Muslims are now mad at the singer Beyonce
because of her latest music video
proving my contention that the only quality
a person needs to become a Muslim
is to have less than ten active brain cells.

Details | Narrative | |

I Am Charlie

To all of the brain dead
raghead nazis in the world:
You are turds from the devil’s ass. 

Details | Narrative | |


Walking to the camp
With only a spark in my lamp,
We’re here for a night of fun 
But all I want to do is run,
My friends follow me
Holding back shyly 

First to camp
We sat down the lamp,
It starts to drizzle
The spark starts to frizzle,
We fear the spark is lost 
To us forever what a cost 

We find a small cabin
We start up by babblin’,
We go on, on and on
Without our phones,
I feel trapped
As if I have been kidnapped 

Sitting in the dark
Led by only a spark,
It keeps me sane
Even in the rain,
Lost with nowhere to go
I put on quite a show,

My fear no one can see
So I let it be,
All alone I start to feel
I wish this fear would just disappear,
I ‘m afraid to speak
I know I will freak,

Sitting with my friends
Even till the end,
The wind blows and batters
The windows shatters,
Lighting strikes
To close for our likes,

There in the shadows 
I can see small battles,
Do you see them too?
Do you see the crew?
Or am I insane
To see such a thing

We huddle close to the spark
It is so dark,
The wind whistles and blows
With the past so close,
My skin has goose bumps
They rise in lumps,

Lightning strikes
To close for my likes,
The spark starts to flicker
On the candle whicker,
I blink no more spark
We are not alone in the dark

I swear I’m not insane
They see the same thing,
They can be so vivid
I start to feel livid,
Why this anger inside of me
How can this be?

I am no longer at piece
Leave me in peace please
I want be left alone 
Everyone must be gone

Leave me here to stay
I will live here everyday
I have finally gone insane
From the amazing things I have seen

No one is here
No one lives in fear
Leave me
Let me be

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Hostile Times II

Hostile Times II
By Nate Spears

Busted love is my Crystal Ball's fortune
My heart hurts in a torturing way
Nothing ever works in my favor
Standing still 
I lower my head and pray 
Confessing to God 
All I have to give

A 16 year old rebellious daughter
A 13 year old son that’s dead
My father is in prison; so is the one of my two kids
Is this really a way of living?
I didn’t have a choice from the days beginning
Anything different
Would have a given me a chance
at living

Walls of barriers bearing on us 
On this earth we stand
Refusing to let go of this curse
If no bill is signed by Congress
My unemployment runs out next Thursday 
Now I contemplate what’s next?
Sex dollars or Creflo's Dollars?
Be an honest woman; or
Be a fool that’s starving?
When pushed to the limit
All governors are discarded.

Hostile Times rains upon us
Other nations joins the honors
The Elite makes me vomit
There’s plenty of resources among us
God have mercy and let it trickle down on us
Rather than become degrading
In this pew 
I choose prayer
Becoming Sunday Mornings best
Washing away my pains that become abreast; with my chest
Bringing in a new day, 
A today, 
For a better way
In these hostile times we live in.

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The Forest

A woodland path stippled with sun, hushed and quiet -
but the path I found myself on was a dark and dangerous one.
I'd been blackberrying - bramble-scratched, branch-slapped -
snapping from barbs berries fat as leeches
seeping blood-juices on my fingers.
Wood anemones opened pale hands to reach for me,
their fragrant star faces enticed me.
They beckoned, pulling me further and further away
from the world I knew and deeper into the wood.

The forest closed around me, trapping me
in a tangle of twining paths and trembling trees,
the ground layered with brown and golden leaves. 
Treetops cackled with the black caws of crows,
bushes bled red berries, grasses lashed my legs.
And every time the footpath forked
I went deeper, I went darker.
Tick-tock time slowed to a crawl,
watch hands wound backwards.

The whispering wood grew dimmer;
what little light there was struck trees and disappeared.
Fly agaric mushroomed into blood-raw open sores,
ivy ropes dangled nooses from branches.
Crying was useless, my panic-forced tears were hopeless.
Moles mouldered, luminous with maggots,
rabbits rotted, their throats ripped out.
Sky turned ink-dark, lonely wood-wild nights engulfed me.

With time, thoughts of home began to fade,
the seething forest seemed friendlier;
trees were a tease of teal and green,
rippling with strange and teeming life.
Amber algae scorched sunsets on umber bark,
wood sorrel crept, beetles burrowed, lichens came alive.
The forest floor was feathered with ferns
and plush with sponge-soft moss.
Now and again I caught the briefest glimpse of blue,
cool and welcome as water,
and once or twice, through distant trees, I spotted
what I took to be the twinkling lights of a town,
but it was only rainbow flickers glinting on leaves.

I've been gone too long, I'm too far gone.
Faint memories of home still siren-sing to me,
but just when I think I've found the right track
the forest tightens its grip, drawing me back.

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Lost in Loss

The fog hung thick about him.
So thick he could shove it aside.
It clung to him,
As young love clings to an even younger kiss.
An enduring memory, that in deed was all to brief.
It wrapped him in a sense deprived embrace.
Foreign arms in his all too familiar and fragile world.
Shaking the perilous cliff,
That his courage balanced upon.

He was suddenly assaulted,
By the smell of burnt pine and hemlock,
The sound of burnt and hacking screams,
The sound of a monster roaring... Consuming.
It's frame lit up the world around it,
And in the process forever darkening his.

He approached the long dead skeleton.
That once was his home,
The purpose he once had,
And the void that had replaced it.

The grey film soon broke.
The sun stretched down to bathe him in the clarity he had once known.
Reaching to help him.
But, the light was always reaching.
Trying to break through, dampened isolation.
The fog, perpetually inside him.
Dampening the fires that once brought meaning,
Embracing him... taking from him.
As it once took from him.

The fire of life that had once given him purpose and meaning,
Now just a smolder, continually dampened by the fog
Taken roost in his soul.
The fire of his life, his fate that had looked so bright,
Devoured by the worldly conflagration made
Of heat, 
And wood, 
And screams.
Now just a charred skeleton of what once had been.

He called to his daughter,
With the pain of cagastric ruin,
"Come on, time to go."
Now just a smolder of what once had been.

-Comments are appreciated.

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Caution - Fireworks

E-Z Glo Punk, Lightning Flash,
TNT Devices will burst, do crash
Southern Night, Piccolo Petes
       are hard to beat...

I like hand held Sparklers, Tanks
 flashing fountains, Solar Flare
 Six to #20 Gold I have to share,
 no incidence, no burns, thanks...

  Whistles blow, fountains glow,
 pop'n sounds, entire sky all aglow
 I love those colors, high an low
  trails eched onto my retina
  inspired me to let ya know

  Now you close both eyes
in pitch dark, what a surprise
  for you to see, right there
 darkness, absolutely  anywhere
beautiful trails of lights in motion
"Always read a label of caution"

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To All Mothers

To mothers all over the world:
If your son starts growing a beard,
rams a stick of dynamite up his ass,
rails on about imaginary infidel neighbors
and puts a dirty rag upon his head;
please place him in a mental institution.
I know that a large percentage of young men
think with the little head in their pants
instead of the big head attached to their necks,
but hopefully a mental health professional
can convince such a warped young mind
that no murder is justified and that if he
carries out his maniacal scheme there
will definitely not be seventy two virgins
anxiously waiting for his soul to enter their domain
because there are absolutely no (zero) virgins in Hell.

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Three Sorry Souls Now Burning In Hell

Chérif Kouachi, Saïd Kouachi and Amedy Coulibaly,
the three rat bastard terrorists who murdered seventeen people
in France are now dead. They did the Devil’s bidding with joy
in their stone cold hearts during their lifetimes and now that
they are dead, their sorry worthless souls are now burning in Hell
and will continue to do so for all of eternity. You reap what you sow,
even after death, and these three satanic SOBs will scream
in pain and terror forevermore. No one outside of Hell will ever hear
their terrifying screams. That is a well deserved ending
for these three totally disgusting two legged inhumane animals.

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Rabid Skunks

If I saw a rabid skunk and an Islamist
both dying by the side of the road,
I would just pass them by
because they are basically the same,
twin stinking useless beasts.

Vive la France!
Death to rabid skunks!

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My Friend

My Friend
There waiting wanting so much to reach out is my friend. Alone and broken hearted 
beaten down to a point of no return. Afraid to reach out any more filled with despair 
closed off from everything around her. What is the point when at every turn there is 
sadness and rejection? No one see’s the loneliness’ inside swallowing her whole. 
Desperate she can only dream of a friend to smile and laugh with.
In this deep dark recess a seed begins to grow between her and me. Together we 
plan and accept the things which we cannot change. We will become a friend in all 
things keeping our secrets and watching a dream take root and grow. To this I say 
we can and will without anything to bring sorrow and pain. All else is just there and 
has no matter. No one can take what is not shared or destroy what is not given.
What about my pain and sorrow, the loneliness that flows through my veins? My 
broken and lonely heart that trust no more which feels it could never mend. It has 
turned to that dark place where only I can go and understand. No more to allow 
another to cause hurt and sadness. I find myself to be my friend and trust no other.
As we whisper and dream our life begins again. Just you and I alone we trust no 
other. My friend it’s you right here where you have always been waiting wanting to 
reach out. The one I can smile and laugh with. My inner self has come alive.   
Debbie Knapp

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The air is cold and still.
Darkness has triumph over the day.
When all hope of daylight fades,
touches of a lavender sky emerge.
A royal blue sky to the east
highlight black silhouette mountains.
The west sky is dark purple with grayish
mountains sleeping lazily on the landscape.
As daylight looms there appears to be a
struggle with the night.
The heavens to the east lighten.
To the west dark with a reddish hue.
Darkness fatigues with this celestial
struggle as the earth begins to glow.
Victory is daybreak in Oregon

Edward J. Ebbs - Winter 2005

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Senile Old Fart

If there is anyone anywhere
who gives a good damn
about former president
Jimmy Carter’s legacy
please keep him away
from microphones and cameras.
He has obviously deteriorated
mentally into a senile old fart
and a rabid anti-Semitic jerk.

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The Lost Girl

There was once a girl
who loved and embraced life
she smiled even in sorrow
but her smiles were always borrowed
But nobody seemed to notice
that there was anything wrong at all
In this tiny town she used to call home
is all foreign now

She used to have no enemies
but now she has many
its not the ones who harass her
or threaten her, though
it's the lonely girl sitting within her

There's a lonely girl inside of her
fooling people so they may see
just how brave she may be
speaking of only happiness
despite all the hurt within

But all alone is where the danger lay
as she's sprawled on her bedroom floor
with pills in one hand and a blade in the other
there are some battles that can't be fought

So she cried, cried for another day
a day to feel loved once more
she cried, cried for another hour
one more hour to say she was sorry
but it was too late.

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Scuzzball Poster Boy

Bill de Blasio,
the current mayor
of New York City,
is easily the most
disgusting example
of human de-evolution
walking semi-upright
on planet earth today.

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Face Of Modern Slavery

A shameful act in this world we live today
surely an educated mind can clearly see the truth behind a mask
Ignorance is the hardness of heart manifests in such violence 
The horrors and inhumanity of it heartbreaking reality reeks
A mortal sin attacking the vital principle within us all
slavery is very much alive and growing each dawning new day

New bigger than ever in the 21st century, returning evil dawns
Turn a blind eye poor unfortunate girls without a voice cry for love
India has the largest number of slaves in world we live in
The dark side of such a beautiful country an evil vice grips hold

Taking a new form, bride trafficking exploiting the poor
those unfortunate falling prey to traditional arranged marriages
some are sold off like objects for as little as 160 euro's, up to 225 euro's 5000 rupees 
Vulnerable young women exploited forced into hard labor some injected with drugs e.t.c they say their life is Hell not worth living

Working morning and night beaten in extreme heat raped by family members
Their is a social status manufactured from all this a stigmata deceit and trickery
they are then disgraced known as purchased women

Men and women so called mercenaries in a perverse vice 
looking at ill got wages they act as brokers in a deliberate choice of evil 
This the gravest violation of good clouds and corrupts judgement 
Entrapment and sale of poor unfortunate vulnerable women as brides
victims of greed to an illegal trade one grave offence
Turning away from evil out of fear of punishment 
we ourselves are in a position of slaves

Studies have been carried out the world over 
treating women as baggage or a commodity or an item of less worth
they lead their victims into evil doing without choice 
They do the most punishing of manual labor exploited under extreme conditions
Some have been taken from their families forcefully again'st their will 
then sold many times over as sexual objects and given drugs 
sedated to prevent them from escaping living a life of constant fear 

Tears roll down my cheeks 
law is a broken promise of truth to protect innocence
25 years of selective abortions willfully being practiced
by doctors and surgeons alike
protecting wrong doers cry people oppressed forced in some circumstances
life is sacred a verdict of moral conscience 

Only in the female section a shame and disgrace 
now a population of mostly men seed of their wrong doing
Oppression of the poor cries to Heaven for revenge 
keeping of slaves deprives thee laborer of their wages 
were is human rights in all this God be merciful 

Our blessed mother holding Queen of Heaven sits with the father and the son 
forgive them as they are blind to the truth an ignorance in their guilt
A mothers tears are the most precious love one blessing 
The suffering of these innocent girls, we all seek happiness in the fairy tale end

Rich men acting as brokers dowries a property exchange how awfully sad
How shameful this is slavery returning to the past sins 
enduring a life of constant sexual abuse considered unclean
this should be banned as it turns my stomach were is equality
More the Devil's advocate, such heartache and tears justice a virtue
all because you were born a woman some are taken by force an uneven balance
beaten and battered victims, a sadness overwhelms me 

Sex selective abortions, a blast again'st girls 
if the unborn child is female more than likely will be aborted
Costs of dowries crippling to parents, going into debt 
A woman, one precious jewel in my eyes who gives birth to new life 
in the fruit of love, to be held equal with an equivalent say
contrary to the divine  law
Created from a rib of man 

Families torn apart for what, such reason greed of money
The countless women enslaved live in hope 
unrepented evil brings eternal darkness destroys charity
This new prosperity is but a distant dream for some 
10 million people in enslaved in India

They have an imperialist attitude with political dominance over the poor 
The colonist legacy remains with status 
Some are considered of worthless class
Slavery laws should be enforced abolishing such inhumane cruelty 
in such loveless acts
fruits of charity are joy to behold brings peace and mercy 
as they project something to the outside world that they are not 
Hidden under the carpet their lies the sins of falsehood  

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Human Pythons

Iranians are Persians,
devil worshipping pythons,
on the highway to Hades.

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A Doctors Ballad

I never really understood people until I took apart my old school chum Rick.
Now I know exactly what makes the human heart tick.
The intricacy of the human circuitry is Gods most artful work without uncertainty.
Like a great operatic performance accompanied by a grand orchestra, all our organs sing as one and all together.
To give such life as this in a manor of theatrical grandeur, but life comes at a cost however, this is something that we can not sever, for one soul to live it must take from another.
You see hunting a human is just like hunting any animal, you always track those that are weak and incapable.
I study those that indulge greatly in life's pleasurable sins, I always proceed to take them apart starting with their limbs.
To squander such a gift is a crime against those souls no longer living.
It is a crime that should be dealt with swiftly and unforgiving.
You may find my words harsh and cruel but punishment is dealt where punishment is due.
The scholars and gossips call me a Devil worshiper or a Satanist.
But I am an admirer of God and I dream to be like him, a great creationist. 
To some I'm known as the mad doctor who haunts the river Rhine, but to my acquaintances I'm known simply as Victor Frankenstein.

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Physically and Mentally Abuse

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

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Silence, Nested In The Sand

Coming apon, a large desert rock.
Along side, a smaller white rock, 
so I thought. A sun bleached skull, 
nested in the sand. Silence, with
a gentle desert breeze moving my 
many unanswerd thoughts; quickly
race threw my mind. This O'l skull,
once riddled before with dream's,
stolen memories, for ever gone!
A wide open jaw; Imagining, this
poor O'l soul screaming from the 
other side, but never heard. So
I walked away, and wisperd a few
words: Rest now, youv'e been found!

03/07/14   Written By, Larry Berdoo
                         WRITE ON!



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My Story Telling Who is this Princes

The night air made her feel tired
As she looked out side all the fences were wired
In the distance she hears crowds yelling
As she was to young to know they were rebelling
Father she asked where are we going?
Mother said to keep quiet and keep walking

Mother yelled in the night air
Father gave out a blank stare
They yelled run my princess run as far as you can
As that moment past her little feet pushed off and she ran
She ran to the nearest bushes and crawled into it to hide
She never smelled the air before as if someone just had died

As she lay on the ground under a bush she heard 
A loud yell in the distance almost to absurd
My name is Angelica, I am just a young girl who does not know 
Angelica just wants to live her life with help to grow
Angelica did not know what just happened she notice a figure in the distance
A little person just like her, a strong but gentle presence

Angelica saw the people who were shouting run off toward the voice
She was scared and she knew that she had to make a choice
Angelica fragile state was so confused and lost
She knew it will take burden on her at a cost
But in that moment of quietness a young but strong voice called out
Can you trust me just because? will you come with me with no doubt

My Story Telling  Together In A Strange World

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The Witches of Lemgo

When the witches from Lemgo assemble,
At night when the cities asleep,
Many souls in their beds they do tremble,
As they hear the witches that weep.

Their rusty old chains on the cobblestones,
Are heard as they lie in their beds,
Loud screeches producing, unearthly tones
As witches all dance in their heads.

They are cursing the souls who have burnt them
They’ve gathered some hot flames from hell
Hate has adorned their thorn crowns like a gem
Now vengeance will serve them real well.

If ever in Lemgo you wander some day
And believe that witches are not;
You’ll hear them gather the mayor to pay
For his sins as they watch him rot.

Brenda Meier-Hans

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On Halloween Night

Deep in the forest, screams have been heard;
of men, women, and children, screaming their lungs out
in the misty, dense forest. A report was once given of a man
who ran to the chieftain's house, his face filled with blood;
eyes literally separated from the eye sockets!

It is believed that vengeful ghosts roam around the forest,
searching for a soul to be part of them; they can only do so by taking
a life. "They have a very disturbing, dark sense of humor", a warrior says.
"Sometimes they crucify a victim upside down on a tree, and send crows 
to feast on them. At Sunrise, you see what was once a human; bones with some remaining flesh, as blood oozes out!"

After every five years on the night of the full moon, the villagers slaughter a bull and a dozen sheep to appease the forest spirits, that come with the mist.

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Spay Neuter And Isolate

Every sane person knows that you must
spay (neuter) and isolate mad dogs.
There is no cure for mad dog disease.
This includes mad dog humans i.e. jihadi males.

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The piss ant national press
calls you an islamophob
if you say something negative
about maniacal rat bastard
raghead nazis. The truth
of the matter is that the
members of the press are
ass kissing fascist loving
lap dogs for these
devil worshipping SOBs.

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I saw you the other day we didnt speak
Thinking to myself how did we become this way
And remembered the times we had 
Our first kiss I remember
I was drunk but I sobered up
Realizing I was feeling outta place
I looked at you 
Though it took me a minute to see
Your the only one I want
I only wanna make it good
For both me and you
So please forgive 
If I pull away from you 
It's a defense mechanism 
I know not of what I do
Please forgive me if I want you like I do

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From anxiety to Joy

From anxiety to joy

Hi to all my friends
   I decided to write this story of me down, because I see so many unhappy people on this site. They make this very clear to me when I read some of their beautiful poems. I have tried telling it in verse, but now I feel it is time to write it down in prose

    When I was a child I was not happy because I had very strict parents who robbed me of all my freedom. I was a very freedom loving boy and I felt so totally restricted in a family that never could and never would understand me. There was a lot of psychological cruelty handed out to me by my Father and a hell of lot of bullying, I was subjected to by the other kids, I came from a very rough part of London called Peckham, and I was an extremely sensitive young lad.

    When I grew up I married a beautiful Australian girl named Vera who is still my beloved wife after fifty years. We immigrated to Australia, and after about three months, I decided to join the army, and I volunteered to go to Vietnam, so I could pay back the kindness that the Australians had Showed me by receiving me to their beautiful country.

     I served in Vietnam for about nine and a half months, then they decided to ship me back to Australia because of injuries and illness. when I came back my troubles all started and I developed PTSD, even though I had not really been in much danger during my days of war. I was filled with a terrible anxiety, and  was absolutely terrified of both life and death. I had these periods of deep, deep dread that completely ruled my life. I was angry most of the time, and I detested everybody I ever met with a vengeance so hard to understand

     This got worse and worse as the year proceeded, and I tried everything to control it, from counselling to reading every kind of self help books, and I read every religion, and all the stuff by so many different Spiritual teachers until I had a bookcase brim filled with all the books I had read. I tried every kind of meditation, plus yoga, Tai chi, and many other things. However, nothing worked. They helped a bit but not enough to stop the ugly terror I felt.

    Then one day I came across a man named John Sherman on the net, who has helped so many people, and thousands of people now practice what he advocates with much success.

     John told me that all I had to do was close my eyes and look at the me ness of me, it was as simple as that. At first I laughed at him with this simplistic approach to gaining back ones sanity. But I was desperate; I had walked out on my wife for a year and given everything I had away. My anger was getting worse and worse, and when I finally came back to my family, I really wasn’t worth being with. My wife tolerated me because she loved me so totally, but I could tell that I was leading her into Pyschological, of physical illness.

    So I gave John’s method a try, I meditated every day using my me ness as a meditation point. I don’t mean my thoughts or sensations, emotions or such. I mean the ‘me’ the part of me that actually runs the show. The ‘me’ that always seems hidden but is always there in the background. I noticed some changes in me very quickly, but then the progress came slower, but very steady.  Now I have been doing this for nearly five years and the difference in me is phenomenal. I am so happy now, that I could almost scream with joy. I have no more anxiety any more, and the dread that once debilitated is totally gone.

     My neurotic fear of death has faded, and although I don’t want to die, when it comes I will be totally ready for it. My life is so beautiful these days and everything seems so beautiful, and crystal clear. These days I walk on feather feet, and I am so grateful to John and his wife Carla for what they gave to me. I really want to share this with anyone who cares to listen. You would not believe how beautiful my life is these days.  Thank you for reading, all you who reached the end of this story. I hope it helps you as it most certainly helped me….Peter.

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My Dark Past/My Dark Secret/ can’t gain any movement stuck in the same positions where I been standing for the past five year I can’t succeed higher elevations. I have been lost for a person  who I was passionate about. But completely ended when I committed A Love Crime  Now I am away can’t sleep no flex fuel to keep me awake / now drive past my   pain smile at my tears laugh at my troubles/I  am still standing  I can  feel my feet and I can still hear the wind blow/I don’t have compass to direct  me to right corridor/ I have been  knock off this course for too long/ Even  A GPS system can’t redirect me/ Now expressions on your face confuse me  while I take a shot of  Hennessy/  My life has been whole bunch of gambles and not enough great decisions

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The Midnight Madame

Honey Glaze Bun
A herd of hoof ran across her back
 Her mind drifting into slumber
Her midnights rendezvous became dangerous acts 
while the itinerant
Slept in every alley on Delaney Street

An exhausted prosecutor 
Release her back to the cruelty of the dark street
Where broken lamps on 
The Great White Way generates
Little or no heat
And the deafening sound of the siren
Kept her awake
Until the blonde blue eye stranger pulled up
In a dark limousine rolled down the window
 And whispered
“Hello honey bun
Come on in 
Your place or mine
Let’s be discreet.

Half a mile down the dark road
The hooded stranger
Poetry became a reality
An old Shakespearean

Let not my love be called idolatry,


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The Nocturnal Delight of Mephistopheles - Part One

One dark, dreary night while working on a poem of hellish, hideous and 
Horrible fright, I became at once quite so fatigued and could barely keep 
My eyelids open anymore, and then suddenly darkness came masking my 
Psyche in a Most eerie dark night, only to find when awakening a sinister,
Dark presence lurking at my chamber door. 

I thought I was dreaming with the furtive appearance of this dark visage 
Before me, when suddenly he began to speak slowly, to mesmerize me 
Whole with his fiery eyes. As this dark visage spoke to me, I sensed an awful 
Aura of macabre right before me, but my senses were paralyzed not by fear,
But a curiosity of this man with his fiery eyes.

On my inquiry I found to my shock and surprise this man was the evil 
“Mephistopheles,” in spirit and body now whole, who was here to quench
His rapturous desire in fulfilling his “nocturnal delight,” the essence of his 
Lurking presence now in my chamber room. Mephisto was indeed a demon 
Devil who served Lucifer with a most passionate delight.

I couldn’t believe my very ears, evil Mephisto standing before me with his 
Fiery eyes of fright, beckoning me toward a world of death, demons, deception, 
And debauchery. I told him that I knew of his fate with Faust, and he replied, 
With his smiling delight: “Faust was only fiction—Goethe’s imagination, 
And I’m quite real to you and most unholy.”

With Mephisto’s revelation to me, I began to quake, shudder with a most pure 
Fear, for I knew this dream was not a dream, but a nightmare taunting my very 
Soul. Thinking fast, I asked: “But why am I here in your presence tonight?” 
Mephisto replied, “This is the night of my nocturnal delight, for I’ve come for
Your soul.”

With this, I asked pray tell, “Why me, Sir?” “I’m only a struggling young poet.”
“Why my soul of all things, Sir?” “I’m still learning my craft and mastering my 
Works. To this Mephisto replied, “My Master loves the vim and vigor of your 
Works young poet.” “He admires your passion to learn the Black Arts and to put 
Dark evil ideas in your poetry.”

His direct reply and intention plunged my spirit into a dark whirlwind and vortex
Of the vilest evil. I told Mephisto that I did not consciously summon him on this 
Most dark of night. He replied: “Your concerns matter not to me young poet, for
In time you’ll become most evil.” “And, I’m here now to make you a most 
Wonderful offer, one that you shan’t refuse tonight.”

How did this situation move so fast from whence Mephisto graced his presence 
At my door? My mind now was racing in overdrive and overwrought with images 
Of death, evil, and fear. I had little time left before Mephisto acted to doom my 
Soul making me both a tragic and poor figure. “What do I do?” I pondered as 
These events tortured my inner being leaving me in panic, despair, and utter fear.


Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany 
(October 11, 2014) (Narrative poetic format)

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I died one night,
yet, I got up the next morning
as if nothing had happened.
I showered and got dressed,
had a couple of multi-grain bars
and a diet soda for breakfast.
I drove to work, greeted my co-workers
and chatted with them like always.
I worked hard until a little after one,
then I walked down the stairs
to the basement, entered the break room,
and purchased my lunch from the vending machines:
a chicken salad sandwich, a bag of chips
and a cold diet soda to wash it all down.
I shot a little bull with a couple of the guys
from the tech department who were still alive.
I decided to take the elevator back upstairs
to finish my honest eight hours for my good day’s pay.
Before my shift ended I was asked
if I could work two hours overtime
to help clear up the backlog which had accumulated.
I said sure, why not, I’ll work a couple:
after all, what else does a dead man have to do.
The long work day came to a boring end,
so I got in my car and headed back home.
At some point in between,
I guess Marie LeBeau put a curse on me;
because when I got out of the car at home,
I had become a zombie.
I sat in my chair in the den
and stared blankly, mindlessly, at the walls
until well after ten.
I finally crawled back into bed, and then,
the next morning it was déjà vu all over again.

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Life I have known

I have a fear,
still residing within me.

The fear of my own

The fear of living this life alone.
Maybe it is fitting that I deserve to be
this way.

To know that only one could have ever 
accepted as I was.
Yet I did not truly deserve her.

But that is behind me now.

To give up the only thing
I thought I wanted,
what I thought I needed.

Yet after the fact,
it wasn't something I truly
was ready for.

I have finally seen myself 
for who and what I am.

I do not know if I will ever get
another chance.
If I will ever be accepted by another.

As I look at the conditions
in my life,
the lacking,
the unwanted qualities,
and characteristics.

From the material to the immaterial,
maybe it is best if this life be lived
as I know it best.

The way I live right now, alone.

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Wackadoodles Versus Wackjobs

Wackadoodles are crazy silly.
Wackjobs are crazy serious.
Comedians are Wackadoodles.
Actors are Wackjobs.
Comedians know they are clowns.
Actors think they are doing something
for a living so very important that people
need to hear their thoughts and opinions
on politics, poverty, war and peace.
Note to the Hollywood crowd,
you are play actors, emphasis on play.
No one with even a half of a brain
takes anything you say seriously.
The dogs Rin Tin Tin and Lassie were actors.
Monkeys, chimpanzees and gorillas over the years
have been actors in the movies and on television.
So shut the heck up and play your little characters.
If anyone really wants to know what is on your minds,
they can go to a zoo and ask a hairy ape or funky monkey.

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The Nocturnal Delight of Mephistopheles - Part Two


The stage was now set . . . from nowhere, Mephisto handed me a missive in 
Medieval Latin to read. He said, “Young poet, the hour is late, and I know 
You’re a scholar who can read this letter for better.” “And Sign it now you 
Must to decree your fealty and your very soul to my Master, so now take 
Heed!” And with that, my eternal soul was now the prize to be bartered 
To make my life one of evil—for the better?

For a moment, a seeming eternity, I dreamt a thousand dreams, died a 
Thousand deaths, and “NO!” was my clear answer to this unholy charlatan
And prevaricator of the truth, as he stood quite close. “A most unwise
Decision my young friend,” responded Mephisto seething in anger at my
“NO.” And then Mephisto declared: “I will take your soul anyway, and 
Bring your life to its final close.”

That was it, my time was up and I knew I must act decisively to save my 
Soul, if not my life! Dropping quickly to my knees, eyes shut, with a small 
Crucifix in my hand, I replied in kind: “Get thee away from me unclean evil 
Spirit in Jesus Christ’s name I Pray, and save my life Oh Lord God! And 
Deliver my soul from this foul evil tempter and cleanse my mind of his kind!”

With that declaration, trembling and shaking, I continued by chanting the 
Lord’s Prayer, when suddenly I heard a sonorous, searing scream and my eyes
Opened wide to behold: Mephisto engulfed in the fire and flames of unholy 
Damnation resultant from the Lord’s Prayer. This final event ended Mephisto’s
Captivation of my mind and spirit so delightful to behold!

With this final image—I jolted awake quite suddenly, and I was sprawled 
Out on my writing desk, with my ink pen nearby, and the warm glow of the 
Bright morning sun breaking through the window. With this, this young poet 
Felt safe and very much in the Lord’s grace as I peered up from my desk, 
Basking wonderfully in God’s morning sunshine which illuminated my 
Whole room from the window.

For the first time, I paused and I smiled—and I said: “Thank you Oh Lord 
God, Master of the Universe!” “For now I’ve learned a most powerful 
Lesson in the wages of sin and temptation of Thy Fallen Angel.” With 
That I felt saved and destined after some much needed rest, to begin writing
Against that perverse Kingdom of Lucifer and to spirit into print, pure poetry 
In praise of God—the Most Supreme Angel!!

But then I spied one final observation when I glanced at the floor from my 
Desk, a small note lay there. The warmth I felt evaporated—and my nerves 
Twitched, my body contorted as I stood up from my desk. I picked the note 
Up off the floor, with the exquisite blood-red writing on it, just as it had been
Placed there, and read: “You won this time my little poet friend, but next time 
I come, Lucifer, My Great Master will take your holy soul forever and all 
Eternity into hellfire and damnation—My Best Wishes, Mephisto.” 

After reading Mephisto’s note—I stood in a daze, bewildered and speechless,
And most afraid again!!        

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany 
(October 11, 2014) (Narrative poetic format)

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Riding the Night Mare

Friends and foes of flesh and bone from me they have flown 
A different company I keep in reveries of twilight sleep
When night’s dark blanket does fall, I begin to hear their call
Carriage wheels creak, horses shriek, I look, but dare not speak

Some appear restrained; others seem in good manners untrained
Pale complexions, faces unshaven, countenances dark and graven
Friendly words are not uttered, heavy hearts remain un-fluttered
After a brief admiration I join this motley delegation sans hesitation

Through sleepy streets we ride, through dark alleys we arrive
To our place of gathering - in silence, without any chattering
Far from city lights, under a moonlit sky an owl hoots thrice
As if to wonder, “Are these nocturnal creatures of virtue or vice?”

These ghastly preachers with ominous features invade his lightless 
Kingdom with a mysterious mission - in search of freedom, 
Perhaps driven by some demon, or for some other unknown reason
The owl has seen enough, so it swiftly flies away with a huff

In a ruinous castle by moonlight lit, at a round table we quietly sit
The ghostly figures each reveal packets from under dusty jackets
On the table they are placed, then with their burning eyes I am faced
This is to be a feast, my hosts are many, but guests there aren`t any

The packets are unwrapped, their curious contents are unmatched:
Flavors of love and hate, horror, and beauty, to devour all is my duty 
Some taste sweet, fruits of exotic flavor, I eat; everything I savor
Others brought blood to the table; to swallow this too I must be able 

I eat, swallow, devour, my hosts are pleased; suddenly I am seized
By a feeling of heavy heart and head, I enter a dark sleep of the dead
When I wake, in my mouth there’s a strange taste, in my body I ache 
But the ghosts` sustenance must be treasured, their feast remembered

Or else I`ll be dismembered, the dark treasures in the woods gathered
Will be retrieved and given to a more worthy soul, for their goal
Is to bring their bitter, bloody honey to feed the mind not the body -
The essence of life distilled by the dead in images and words I was fed

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My shadow

When I move my shadow moves
Everything I do, my shadow does too
It shows what others may not be able to see
Someone who I think is longing to be free
My shadow follows be wherever I may go
It shows the darker side of someone I may not want to know
As my mind flows my shadow does the same
It knows how to play every single game
I don’t know how my shadow came to be
But there’s an idea that just might help me
Science says a shadow is a reflection from the sun
As the light hits you it shows the world what you have done
My shadow can also play the part as my best friend
But even then it can still leave me
when the day has come to an end.
My shadow also has a way of telling a tall tale
Even though its probably the only thing on this earth that’s not for sale
I’ve always wondered what purpose a shadow really has in life
As its main purpose brings creative minds together and imagination takes its flight
My shadow has a way of sinking into my mind
As it is always by my side
I think of how my shadow would act if it were bought to life and made real
Would it have my personality and feel exactly how I feel
Would it still follow me where ever I may go?
Or would it turn into somebody I barely know?
Would we be friends and live together as one
Or would we separate and would it stop copying everything I’ve done
Would it have my voice, speak the way I do
Or will I be the only one who could see it and not you
If there was a way to bring my shadow out into this world 
I still wonder would I be the very same girl
As simple as my shadow may be
I still believe it has a deeper meaning…..someone longing to be free

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My Downfall

Power and Control was my destiny, I rose from the bottom.
Hoping to become more powerful than you could ever imagine.
But you were my only hope of stopping my madness and hatred.
My passion and love for you was my downfall, it was all for you.
Now I clinch the remains of you, what have I done?
Am I a disgrace, or a foul, for falling so low to you?
I love you, but it seems, the same cannot be said for you.
I killed to be with you, and let this blood be shed.
A reminder that my rise to power, came with its loss.
Let this loss be the the Dagger that I hold.
A dagger of love, which these hands still clinch.
A dagger which shall be the death of me, as it was to you.

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An Inmates Dark Christmas

An Inmates Dark Christmas....
It was the first Christmas right after my momma passed away.
Any other Christmas I'd be making the best of the situation, but it was a very dark day!
It was a day I wanted to escape from, and nothing could distract my mind.
My body felt so numb, and the pain fed off of me being confined.

An Inmates Dark Christmas...
I laid on my bunk in a funk in that cold dark cell.
I was emotionally drunk, and that Christmas day was pure hell!
I pictured my momma in my minds eye, we were hanging decorations on the Christmas tree.
It was at that moment I wanted to die, for I just knew I would succomb to insanity!

An Inmates Dark Christmas...
That day I even contemplated suicide, for the pain and loneliness was just too much.
A bonified emotional homicide, for my momma I would never see or touch!
That Christmas I was a man with an empty shell, and a troubled soul.
A day of pure hell, and alone in that cell became my dark little hole.

An Inmates Dark Christmas...
I thought that day would never end, but then Christmas was gone.
No family or friend, for I was still terribly alone!
Christmas is still the hardest day of the year, but I manage to get by.
And although I still shed a tear, at least I no longer wanna die!

By Jimmy Matthew Anderson for Constance La Frances contest "Your Saddest Christmas 

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A missive from the damned to whoever have a little time to spend with this nonsense - Page 1

And so, I have made up my mind, once more.
I have decided to depart, to bid this husk farewell.
In order to do that, I must save coins if I desire to save myself.
For with it, I will be able to buy my ticket out here to a more blessed realm or the eternal void. Either way, I will be winning.
I mustn't, any longer, feel the starvation of affection and no more I shall be fed by the crumbs of fleeting joy they toss at me.

Thoughts of finishing are always in my mind, flooding it, making hard to go day by day, making hard to sleep, to have hope.
I fail to see where the hope is, I like to think that it can be find inside of one's heart.
But even so, I think I am mistaken, and when I glance at myself in the mirror, I quickly lose any spark of what could-be hope.

With the aid of the metallic sling, I shall leave this husf behind, heavy with its sins and sorrows, to no more nourish hatred.
For it does only to hinder my advance towards elevation.
With my metallic sling, I shall pierce, first, my heart, where lies the sorrow, then, my mind, where resides the sins.
Whilst the life in me start to wane, regrets I will not have, when my consciousness fade, my spirit will be no longer be trapped inside this imperfect cage of flesh.
Being free, my spirit shall roam far and beyond to, before, unseen places by men, to  untouched places by men.

Another day,someone inquired me "Are you happy now?" and for that I just said "Yes". How else could I have responded if not with a lie?
How could I tell them that I yearn for a premature closure in order to stop thinking and feeling but I also yearn for love.
"I am not absolutely happy, as per say, but I do suffer less when I am asleep" I could never say that to anyone...

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Maybe there's just one star in the sky.
Harbor it, keep it, you and I.
Our secret gem, our weekend retreat,
char on the path to which we sneak.

A day of rememory of the crisp night air.
12:10 in the woods; sweet speech in my ear.

Drissle turns to downpour which electrifies the dark.
A towel dabs a leak where the roof splits with bark.

I vaguely remember slipping into a taxi.
A light! Our star! Seen from the back seat.
Another! Two stars? And more, and more
lining the way to my front door.

Too many! That's enough!
They are burning my face! 
Oh no! Oh dear!
And it all went blank.

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Dead American Criminals

Aaron Burr is dead.
Billy the Kid is dead.
Jesse James is dead.
Bonnie and Clyde are dead.
Al Capone is dead.
Ted Bundy is dead.
Jeffrey Dahmer is dead.
Tricky Dick Nixon is dead.
All is right with the world.
Hell still ain’t half full.

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I can't really tell you what is, only what it feels like

So depressed,
maybe even a little stressed,
heart beats completely out of my chest, 
but why?
I can't the image out of my head,
I rest head in my bed, restless, all night Oh i'm so breathless,
I cry..
This inflicted, conflicted pain, may come from within me,
but it started with you.
Something so bittersweet, often lies through your teeth,
that's what you fed me.
Stay true, is what I said to you, even this action was cruel.
In this private world, I'm all alone
I don't like how it hurts.
Completely isolated myself from the world,
it's been days since I answered my phone.
Am I hurt, or did I receive what I was worth?
Dwelling on the past is my stress,
I cant move on, I'm definitely depressed.
Insecurities building on me, with your manipulation and painful memories.
I seize to believe this is my life's destiny,
I need a revision,
What exactly is this thing we call living?
I forgot good times, I let in the bad.
Being me, living life, freely, positive intensity,
it made made you mad.
Innocent girl learned how to live a lie,
life passed by,learned how to fake a smile and cry inside.
I need a lift, a need to rejuvenate,
I need to release this hate, at this rate, I hope I'm not too late.
Overly emotional, this  experience..hurt my physical, mental, well- being
Who could cause so much pain, was it just me?
How could your aggression, and obsession allow me to numb the delight from life.
I neglect the light,the love, the girl, who once knew how to live.
She was wonderful, highly intellectual, and oh so beautiful,
Now she's evidence of physical,emotional damaged work from the palm of your hands.
Completely broken,maybe even for good.

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God IS Real Miracles Happen

God Is Real/Miracles Happen
By Nate Spears

God is real, and miracles happen
Despite of his struggles 
The middle class poet kept on writing his chapters 
Times were tough 
But he didn’t give up
Unpaid rent 
Eviction notes 
His bills were overdue  
No water, no power 
He used GOD as his source; and  
kept on writing his chapters
Then came a knock 
He opened his door, but no one was there 
There was a note left behind, along with a white feather on his mat 
A rent paid receipt 
Plus full payment of his utilities
He closed the door quickly, and went back in the house to his desk
The pages in his book was flipped 
to a ending page he couldn’t miss
A inspirational piece was left behind that he didn’t write
It read this: 

For your time and effort given 
to lead and inspire, this is the final chapter in your book that I so desire.

I restored your power, to give you energy to write.

I gave you water again, for the tears shed on your writes.

I provided funding for your rent, for the priceless messages your poems present. 

Those sheets of paper have inspired many lives in need to vent.

I read the final chapter, and started to cry
I glanced out the window at a river of joy nearby
A rainbow appeared in the sky
Under covering my darkness  
There lies a ray of light 
No matter how deep life pounds
No matter how hard things get 
If you believe you can overcome
Just keep up the fight 
The battle is already won
Just believe.

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Dark Minded

My mind is filled with dark things, 
I see things that should never be seen.

Faces that follow me, every time i close or open 
my eyes they are staring back at me.

Places  that you only hear about in the darkest passages,
places that should be left untold or not talked about.

I think i hear voices talking to me, they tell me to do things that 
i don't want to do, they say a lot of mean stuff to obscene and 
horribly unjust. 

My mind tells me that someone or somethings always there, watching over my shoulder with a cold stare.

I have these fears about everything, anything you can think about my mind has seen.

Why do i keep having these awful thoughts,maybe it's one of my past lives 
that i lost.

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Eleven years has already passed.
The moon was shining brightly that night.
So far but I can still recall.--
I sat down in the window pane,reading my favorite magazine.
Then my eyes got tired and laid down myself in bed,
Leaving the window open to let the wind passed in.
Soon I fall asleep, very deep and dream occured.
I was standing in front of  the window.
The night is high,then an image of a guy appeared in my front.
I tried to close the window but I have no strength to moved my hands.
I tried to shout,aloud but no one could hear me...
And the clock started to rotate in full speed.,,
Little by little I grasp  a thin air, Im suffocated!
I screamed! No voice can filled my room.
Then darkness envaded my world...
I closed my eyes and told myself,"I was just dreaming."
Deep sigh, I prayed and called for His name...
And a tiny light came out in a  horizon.
It's done...I woke up in a horrible nightmare.
I opened my eyes and stunned to what I see.
The image of a man was right in front of me!
He was so incubus watching over me.
I was frightened...and stared at him...deep sigh I whispered.
"It ain't real...I was just dreaming."
I left the bed  hotheadedly to lit the room.
But the button couldn't switched the light on.
I rushed to open the door and escape from the darkness.
When I reached the living room and calmed myself a bit.
I looked back to my room and the light was already on.
There I whispered..."my dream was over."
Not yet until he visited my daughter in her dream.

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6 am

6 a.m.
I saw your pain compressed in
Tourniquets and plungers.
Memories condensed to tears.
Cooling your hand holding bottles.
Dripping in puddles that flowed,
With white wind down glass tubes.
When you pressed for it,
I asked you;
Why you wanted too
So badly –
Maybe you did not hear me.
Then I asked -
For the attention?
But you were done talking.
“The affection is still free”.
I should try not to waste sentences.
At the hour of mid morning,
I remembered when I first saw you.
Walking up the sidewalk,
And I thought to myself:
Yes, I would - So I did.
Smiling ghosts made perfect faces,
Dancing off cigarettes on my front porch..
Yours ran to catch you.
As I watched with mine,
You walking home.
I pass a year and you in a store,
I heard you don’t cry the same,
Not like you used to.
You looked happy - I guess,
Or maybe it was, I hope you are.

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The Sorrows of a Raven

I was not always a symbol of death and pain. There was a time that I was a sign of happiness and purity.
I was not always a soulless pit of darkness. There was a time that I had a warm feeling of love coursing through my veins.
Her name was life and I tranquility lead her to each steeping stone of her journey. She didn't truly love me though. 
You see, sin came along with his handsome looks and swept her off her feet.
That is when things began to change. I became depressed and obsessed with my dear life and every time I encountered the pain of lost love, I cawed my song of sorrow.
 And day after day I would perch on a tree branch and pray,
 "God if you could only give me my life back, I would be the happiest bird in the kingdom.Unchain me dear lord.I have become a prisoner within myself and I want to be free."
As a reply, waves crashed down upon the water and the sky became gray. I dove for the sea and no longer I be.

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The Truth of the Dragon-Knight

Last knight Eye dreamed Eye was a dragon with wings made from disdain and shaped like quaking fear that burned holes through my subconscious imaginings. Eye was gliding soundlessly thru dark clouds, thunder, and rain, while the Slayers stood below, grounded in tyranny and trying to pull Me from the knight sky...Then Eye could hear, then Eye watched thru Dragon-I's as arrows joined my flight...trying to penetrate the hard scales of My spiritual skin. The muted sharpness of the arrows' dancing ricocheted off of Me.

Then Eye cried. Not in agony or pain or

Eye cried in echoing defiance of the oppression of blind slavery and meaningless denial. Eye belched blue and green flame and roared aloud--as loud as my Dragon-voice would carry. Eye scorched the minds of the lie-ers and self-made martyrs (there, the ones who were carrying the omission of Truth of this world).

The Slayers still stood their ground. They kept circling  around and around under Me...but Eye kept pumping My neck, Eye kept beating My wings, but still the Slayers came...more and more of them...

Eye dived down deep toward their barren landscape (My Own Hunting Ground!!); Eye needed to see their torn, hated faces...Men, all. They kept their hoods drawn, their faces hidden from My I's. But their bodies were bare and naked to My Dragon-flame, naked to the force of My righteous wrath. Eye swept down closer, closer until Eye could smell the scents of their sweat and dried blood (of conquered servants before), and Eye could see, even count, the dark hairs sprouting from greasy, dirt-clogged pores. Eye could see that some bore vehement scars, jagged marks streaking across their man-flesh.

Their weapons were crude, mostly: wood axes, scythes, cudgels, kitchen knivez sharpened to a murderous edge...the only sophisticated armaments were their bows, their arrows. The bows were of blood and bone and tendon and blind fear, the sinewy string woven with acceptance of the odd (the Truth that they must stand and fight a common enemy as a single unit, that they must stop war amongst themselves to do so)...and their arrows were bound with Hope and Reason, that Eye would die before them, that they would live on. The bows were more beautiful than the Slayers deserved to wield, but they commanded them with such grace and poise and proficiency...

The Truth is Eye, the Dragon-Knight, and the Slayers are all of mankind's fear and war and social stigma among thorns...

Their bows were the making of Truth and Love and Acceptance, only constructed and command-able when mankind will stand together and open their I's and see.

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Before The Light

There are too many times when my eyes open and it’s still dark.

It’s useless to think that I’ll go back to sleep, and it’s no good at all to lay in bed and watch the passing parade of worries that comes marching down the Main Street of my mind. When I do that, the entertainment seems to take on its own life. The parade grows longer, more spectacular, with the noise of marching bands, my thoughts, growing louder. Clowns scurry ahead of the band leader, throwing red balls in the air. There are too many balls to count.

The best thing I can do for myself is to rise from my bed. But there are days when it seems too much to bear being home before the rest of the world rises. There’s just too much emptiness in my small house. 

I leave, escaping to DD's, where I sit and sip my coffee over a newspaper. Sometimes there are others sitting waiting for the light to come, too–like the woman who gives an animated “Hello” to everyone she meets, staring too long into our eyes. She takes out her cell phone to call a friend about the rashes on her legs. Something is biting her during the night. Raj and the other DD workers snicker, and I am drawn to–but at the same time repelled by–her morbid troubles.

Sometimes, in the winter, it seems as if the time I spend in the dark before the light comes is endless. I don’t think it’s normal for darkness to last so long; it’s probably one of the punishments for eating the apple in Eden.

I much prefer the early light of June and July, when the morning allows the gentle unfolding of life around me. Somehow, when the sun is in the sky at 6:30 a.m., a passing gasoline truck rattling my windows does not sound so lonely. Nor do I mind the sun revealing the stains from spring rains on my windows … or the birds loudly announcing their presence in the trees. Their manic chirping awakens schoolchildren eagerly counting down the days til summer.

When the darkness is especially long, and I have already sought out the comfort of others who cannot sleep, I will sometimes return home and do what I am so reluctant to do — sit still. I take up my position in a special chair near a window that looks out onto the street. I close my eyes and listen to the heated rhythms that only my body can make. My breath … my ins and outs.

But I wonder; why is it so hard to be still? Especially in the dark before the light.

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Delirious Moonlight Dream

It may make you scream 
into chilling longing dream, 
or make you wild in exasperation
in spectacular imaginations.

It may sometimes weaken your strength 
or will give you push to move on
all sorts of emotions comes 
apparently opposites, makes you awaken 
or makes you silently weep.

I ran... deep into the midst of woods
barefooted, I felt tired
strong wind drifted and my body shook
Moonlight beaming odd, I chilled!

Then I wrapped my arms around me, 
tears rolled as I scream your name! 

I kept on running, saw huge rocks aligning
hid myself in between, shivering, 
so the cool air won't touch my skin
and the wind passed, swiftly from where I hide.

There, I stood 
on the peak of one of the biggest rock I look, 
I can see the whole world
green, yet dull and bold.

I scream again and only heard the echo of your name
there I saw rushing of waters
from the side of the rock falling down, 
profusely, angry in flame! 

Seems inviting me, oh dear...
seems warm to fly and let my body fall;
Should I let myself fall and roll? 
Then I heard a roar, scary and so dire.

The wind blew it's urgency of terror! 
I have to jump, face the waters, face my fear, 
But my mind refused
Until I felt one's push! 

I fell...! Ahhhh...! 

I am awakened
still your music on air
a delirious moonlight dream
at the peak of the night I chill! 

Inner Whispers

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Most Screwed Up Religion

Islam has to be the most screwed up religion in the history of mankind.
It makes the ancient Mayans of Central America
look halfway sane and those wackos were total barbarians.
That was well over a thousand years ago when the Mayans
beheaded people to please God, this is the Twenty First Century.
Rats, cockroaches and slimy slugs have higher morals
than these modern day Raghead Nazi dumb ass SOBs.

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Poet In Exile

We live are words and if not were just typing.
Ive come to a crossroads understanding little or nothing of the game 
but knowing my place has been taken.

No longer in demand I sit with the other burnt out writers looking
back with grand dellusion and litlle hope for my return.
The dark waters of a uncertain tommorow overshadow the past glory
and future failures of my existance.

The last round poured the new gaurd will be here tommorow.
And as you pass the ones toblind to see as you've become to
jaded to feel you realize.

To live the words failure is a must for no agnst is true without 
a glimmer of hope. 
I stay ahead of the verse like a pool waiting for the tide.

Now in a place once called home I find strangers in old faces
shadows cast dark figures in alleys all lost for the better day.

But im no judge just a exile forced to carve a nitch 
outta his  same old space.
To tired to care yet still to ego ridden to leave.

Im a exile to friends who live next door.
They hammer the walls  laughter takes there nights.
Im locked in  only with memories to recall.

The smoke trails across the empty room of my mind.
Like some old stories ghost I merely haunt this worn down shell.

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Old Sam's Story : Night of the Fire

Yes…the house has been ravaged
But, what really matters, has survived
I can tell you a story in courage
That made all the difference,
….Whether we lived....
                         or whether we died.....

We have our routine,.... my master and me…
After our walk…..we will come in for a talk
I lie by his feet, ....he gives me a treat
When bedtime arrives, he’ll yawn, then retreat
Up the stairs he goes, into bed for a snooze
And I will circle my bed…several times… then I’ll head
Down for a sleep…under the laundry room sink
I had been out chasing squirrels, all of that day
So tired I was....I was nodding away....

Red in the night…I woke to such a fright!
With a crackle more sharp, than the fireplace spark!
One ember popped out….and before you can name
The sound that I heard….was horror in flames!

We don’t know who first spotted, that our house was on fire
I barked to my master, but since he was tired
He didn’t wake up, so I galloped up the stairs
To wake him and fetch him…though I was terribly scared!
He jumped out of bed in an anxious daze…
Then smelled the smoke, …and could feel the blaze
 He ran,... and ran…. calling “Come, come along, Sam!”
“Hurry, boy,… hurry boy….as fast as you can !!”
But in my confusion, and in the dark smoke
I felt my legs weaken, was coughing, then choked
I couldn’t get up, and felt the heat rise
And in the dark chaos, I was losing my life….

In the shadow of fear, I suddenly felt no alarm…..
Someone had lifted, and cradled me like a babe, I was limp and disarmed
He carried me to safety, ME !! JUST ME! Risked his life for old Sam!
He gently handed life to me, with such heroic, loving, arms

I don’t know how to thank him.   My master shook his hand…
The house may be gone, 
     but nothing worse went wrong….
So, in the soot, the smoke and ash, I rubbed against his boot
He knelt down, looked me in the eye…
                I kissed him with my tongue, gratefully upon his cheek,
                       He smiled, and winked....
                                    it was then,.... I think,.....that he began to cry....

Inspired by Joyce's Touching Photo, for her contest

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On Halloween night

Alone  I sat waiting for the it  to  come  it  never  did
My heart  began  pumping as my neck  began  to sweat that  cold dark  night,
Petrified and  unable to move even the smallest  of muscles to make movement.
I  heard a  creaking  in the  floor below me, I lay still with fear and this  feeling  its not Ok.
Knowing now my  only option was to run and release myself from this horrifying place called sleep,
Trying so hard with much effort  I swiftly swing my feet  over the  bed still stiff and terrified ,
 I let  out a scream deep  from my  vocal chords as something grabbed  my ankles I froze,
eventually gaining strength I shook free on my hands and knees  I went down  hard to  the floor.
Questioning  what has brought me here to this awful  place?
As I crept towards the  door in the  doorway a man  in a dark suite cocky  smile points at  me  with his devilish eyes and leaves me with  a hurt in my body of sickness to come and drained of all life as he grabs my throat  holds me  up  close and whispers

"Everybody Happy"

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The Murder of Lady Anne of the Marshland

'To the cauldron she goes, 
Her white gown simmering gold, 
Ere the fire of wee minstrels eyes, 
Raging with anger, envy and despise,' -(Narrated)

A malison murmured she to the brewing stew inside, 
Therein a dark evil doth reside, 
Made up of a charlatan's tongue, a brutish hand, 
Teardrop of a widow 'n a profane grain of sand, 

"Lady Anne of the Marshland, 
Thy star ascends to glory's helm, 
While in thy possession the heart of a blind man, 
To do so methinks is villain; thou must hang, 

Thy belief is vile; my crippled soul it pains, 
Akin fire it courses through my veins, 
Mortifying me while I bade in Wales, 
Sleep I haven't plenty as every night a bleeding hound wails, 

Thus, this stew shall halt thy good life, 
Relieving thee of duty as my son's wife,
Bear that little effort is little strive, 
This murder plotted I in my hive,"

A vial had she filled, 
Hoping blood be spilled,
Not just any but that of Lady Anne’s, 
Whose end wouldst be the doing of her two hands,

Possessed a fragmented heart she, 
Scattered like Maldivian isles across the aching sea,
Bred in a cesspool of bile, 
The thrusting waves her ally; her couthy visage a lie,

At the dawn of night, 
Whence the castle halls were lit by candlelight,
The cookery- thither the beldam marched, 
Vial in hand; back duly hunched,

Her wrinkled fingers did three drops slip, 
Of the deathly concoction into a silver chalice,
Heretofore ample in merlot, 
For the lady seated by the hearth whose hair reigned scarlet,

Lady Anne drank it whole, 
Shortly thereafter her skin turned pale and cold,
Dying embers reflected her dying self; 
Eyelids drooped whilst eyes peered at a nearby shelf,

A grey wolf thereupon began howling outside, 
It sang unmindful of an impending death; a quietus reprise,
Clerics utter words of reparation to a witch who burns at the stake,
The beldam offered words of malediction to the withering lady; thus spake,

"To end to end with this mortal life, 
Let the heavens tear it asunder,
Lay to rest lay to rest thy weary eyes, 
Forever and forever."

Written by Sunil Rao.

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How Do I Stay Soulful

How do I stay soulful, without seeming like a raging goddess?
I would always be the raging sea,
Don’t sail your boats or ships upon my waters!
 Expected to be slaughters, by my sharks
 The rough waves: and the haunted ghost slaves.
 You toss abroad, unlike the garage you scattered on my shore,
I kept your secrets; at the bottom of ocean floor

I sting your eyes, and bitter your taste:
 Rock your ships from side to side
Yet, you smuggle my fish out to land: 
    what a disgrace!
A man would always be a man

 Why did you leave the dry land and sail the ocean blue
You pirate! You luxury ocean liners: you liars
Can you hold on to my waters? 
The laughter takes hold of you.
I filled myself with rage, because of the things you do

No safety nets……


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The Death Of A Friend

There was no casket to be set into the earth.
Only memories were to be  burried washed clean 
by the bottles embrace.

Strangers  do we part a vist to a familar cold place 
by the oceans shore.
Words spoken never hurt when you  understand 
human nature.

The dark inwhich  I only know.
A dark river flowing unto the sea.
Its broken current flow's with no true direction.

As children we start fresh only to loose the spark.
Dancing under a shroud of tenderness  apon lifes 
harsh stage.

Bitter souls reflect  anger lost only tears of  regret.
Me i just cast demons down   in some  twisted hope
I just might forget.

Sometimes you gotta realize when you crash through that glass
celling  you only got to look forward to the floor.
The bottle now empty I cast into  the dark waters
eternal bed.
Along  with a memory  I'll pretend to erase.

Distanse is only a thought away.
The road echos  my lifes song.
Underground burried  so deadly the truth
just as sweet as the lie.

Barbwire and daydreams  plague my soul.
Like the bottle that sit's within the depths 
of a water cast tomb.

I know strangers  as friends.
Night as backdrop.
Farewell  seems  fitting as hello.
When the river has run dry    
To whom will go?

Read more:

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my companions

My only companions are my dreams my only friends Who call out for me their voices a melody for me to fallow save me my friends from this Dark World Wolfs teach me to be loyal and to fight the dark and when make love to the dark embracing it becoming dark myself yet not to succumb to its control Fae teach me to kill with words And when to use them to save Of the meanings of speech and its clever twists To speak a truth one does not want to hear And still make them hear tote truth Twin sprits teach me to know the sprits Those elusive things some call souls Not knowing how to talk with them, we converse Not knowing how to feel their presence, I touch them I feel the hands brush against my skin As dragons, teach of fire, rage, and bloodlust ,when to use it and how to use it well like a well made WAR HAMMER ,and from the masters I learn lore and flight for though I have no wings still I fly with them Trees teach of patience And the earth’s presence and how to care her Of the minds herbs and streams to feed my roots As my branches wither Their Skills With The Wood Are Rival To None Succubus and Incubus you teach of the heart, it’s betrayals, loves, comforts how to guard the heart, and still feel for they know best, its mysterious ways Whilst my heart, mind and body scream Scream for release from this reality To dreams and the worlds found through their doorways Call out to me my friends save me from those who ridicule me who constrain me in chains of iron as they sear my flesh Holding me fast to things, I must not do or have cages of words, deeds, people, and their judgments I Hate Them, And Their Ways are both evil and cruel I know not how long I have left For my blood screams for vengeance To bathe in its fires ,to soar free in the skies where none but you can reach me SAVE ME, MY FRIENDS I BEG YOU!!! I long for your embrace your fiery breath the sweet scent of wet moss you warm sprit upon mine the pack running singing the songs that change me to your likeness the sleep where my heart lies in your hands as you feed your lustful hungers upon my troubles leaving me to sleep untroubled free of my cares and worries giving me my heart backed still with its worries and cares but unburdened you cleaver teachers I lust for your wisdom and the peace you bring me please come open the doorway to the forests and the fire moors save me my friends
this is also a personification

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Granddads Confounded Clock - Poe Style - First Part

The night was dreadfully dreary, his body old and weary
In his bed did hear he— a sound so full of fright.
With bolt-upright attention, his breath held in suspension,
He sat in self-detention on the bed.
His eyes were wide, not seeing, while in the darkness being
Perplexed in fright from a sound heard in the night.

“Why did I awaken? Why am I so shaken?
Perhaps I am mistaken in my plight.
Did I hear someone calling? Was it something falling?
Falling in the night?
What’s more to my liking, if perhaps the clock was striking
Once on its bell, striking in the night.”

“Yes, that’s what I was hearing, ‘twas nothing to be fearing,
For once half-past it strikes.”
To the dark his eyes adjusted, his mind with dreams encrusted,
As silhouettes distrusted came into sight.
“What are my eyes now seeing? Is that a human being?
Or was I just hearing the clock that strikes?”

He lay back down to listen, dark shadows flit and glisten,
The moon was out of sight.
Now, not to his liking, the clock began to striking—
Twelve strokes at midnight!
With bolt-upright attention, his breath held in suspension
Once again he was filled with fright.

As he sat there staring, his thoughts were more ensnaring,
Not daring to sleep till morning light.
He pondered the aberration in a fit of trepidation
About the grandfather clock.
“Why my thoughts now bother, the clock died with Grandfather,
Forty years ago tonight!”

(Continued in Part 2)

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I had a dream where nothing 
was what it seemed.
It was dark and then too bright 
and all my words left my mind.
I saw a bright beam where 
everything was what I’d 
The darkness fell over the 
shadows and swallowed 
everything that was kind.
The light fled and tomorrow 
was a treasure I just knew I 
had to find.

Yesterday was lost and 
everyone stood with a great 
amount in cost.
It was sad and it was glad, but 
everyone threw it up for a toss.
Passing through time with 
glimmering bright lights,
Where were the dark lonely 

Flash-backs timing the tracks 
as most folks fell through tiny 
little cracks,
Each one flashed back on top 
of crumpling down broken old 
Then it was cold and then it got 
Today was here and being 
blotted out like a tiny black 
Flash-backs and flash-backs 
sending millions tracks of light 
to never forget me not.

®Registered: 2003 Ann Rich

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Death Of A Rose

Death of a Rose
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears
The onion blooms this summer with an essence of pleasure
The winter’s rose brings the smell of death
As X marks the spot
I ask why?
The letters reveal everything in a perfect storm
As my fortune grew wheels I became bankrupt 
My pockets flat-lined into dust
 My days became a Knights reality
My short comings were the guiding in my life’s fatalities
My burdens became the struggles of my light
Each and every day 
I deal with this in this life
My soul is sun burned
My life has washed ashore
Times two; my son’s bring me rays of light
Allowing me to see everything with excellent vision
In all four corners of this ring surrounding my fingers tip
Victory stands bold in the middle 
Failure has lost to a simple slip
So who’s the real champion now?

Tears and sweat are only separated 
By the point in which they’re released
Beauty lies deeply 
Within the heart of the beast
One moment for the momentum 
That destroys the cells of venom
Black and cancerous, 
It sickens our society as we watch this rose die
The funeral we attend today stems from this
This is the Death
Of A Rose.

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A missive from the damned to whoever have a little time to spend with this nonsense - Page 2

But now, I wonder "Will I have the bravery to follow?"
Demise shall follow if I am to attain redemption and cleanness of my sins that tarnish my soul.
Sometimes, I cling to yes, sometimes I cling to no.
When the dark clouds blur my sight, I ask myself "What is worth living for?", some believe in god, some in money or in even a more mundane wish.
I lack this one thing, I lack the purpose that would impulse me forward. But then, I speculate "For me, must be love", but what is love? I do not know, I am an strange to it, perhaps this wasn't reserved for everyone.

Well, one thing is right, my passing will not be mourned nor missed. It will go like the wind, now here then gone and noone noticed a thing.
Many leaves were shaken, many tears soiled the ground, yet, none of this was spotted by anyone.

To the people I did wrong "I am sorry, please, do forgive me".
To the people that hates me, hate me more, be genuine with it and be the fuel of this endeavor. Hurt me more, make me bleed, cut open my flesh, as he once did when I was an infant, paint the wall with my crimson tint...
Make me regret to have been born, actually, this will require little effort, since I already regret that.
My mind is set, termination is the way to go if I desire to do something good, at least once, in this life.
No hope can be spied nor a glimmering light to lead this one to safety.

In a colorless world, only with shades of black and gray, thoughts of demise haunts me day after day.
I see the people around me, at work, on the the streets, everywhere and I cannot help but to feel disgusted and out of place and helpless.
I am tired of pretending, behind my mask, I weep, behind their masks, they laugh at me.
I am tired of being fed by deceiving tales and to feed other with my lies.
The lies... It is everywhere, one must tread lightly between them, or else will fall their prey.

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late night poem

The day seems long and very bright and the sun light is strong, 
I do not dare to stare at the window, because I feel wrong.
My feelings of the morning is quite intriguing but unbelieving,
That the morning dew is just a calling for how much the day is stealing.
The sun above comes out to make it warm and revealing,
I of coarse have studied this and I myself like darkness for achieving.
Life in the dark is so pleasant at times that I do not dare think of day,
So my night becomes a twinkle of little lights that I feel is okay.

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I visited an orphange
saw those little smiling faces
What happiness they had,
no one can tell
as behind that joy lied,
a different universe.
they knew no where they came from,
or they will go.
their home is their orphanage
and the love contributed on them
from the strict wardens 
to every promising visitor
that comes to see them or pick
one of them.
they wait for their moment to arrive
to live in this wide world.
little do they know that they
would get more peace and joyful
in the orphanage than in this huge
painful and competitive world.

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The Latin Dancers

Midnight was approaching and the dance floor was stark Colors of the spectrum were weaving and leaving their mark Lights spun in brilliant flashes of reds, greens and blues. Sparse bodies were gyrating as if music pulsated the hues. The music stopped. He stepped out of the shadows; on his arm was a dark beauty. They walked into the hushed room; the air thick and sultry. Dancing with my partner I watched them through the darkness He pulled her lithe body to him, how I envied their closeness. All eyes were upon them. Piercing rays of greens and yellows flashed up and apart A deep bass suddenly throbbed with the rhythm of a heart Black hair and dark skin, he danced in his tight, arrogant style She danced around him, shaking her body, nimble and nubile The music beat faster. The couple twirled around the dance floor as if it was theirs Pulsating music and scarlet colors flashed around like flares. His sweat became hers as their sensuous lips barely met He lifted her into the air, holding her high with the ascent. He lowered her to the ground. Watching the Latino lovers as they danced through the night I felt as if I were a voyeur who couldn’t turn from the sight. She raised her hand to him; his eyes quickly turned my way Suddenly, I turned to my partner and my hips began to sway My heart beat faster. I could feel him drawing closer the faster my body danced Strobes of red hues flew overhead, as backwards I glanced. He pulled me against him and I felt his strong masculinity Then spiraled me outwards, his hand gripping mine tightly. Our eyes locked. He held me firmly in his arms, we danced slowly then quickly Dancing to the rhythm the music began taking over my body. The Latin dancer’s eyes looked into mine with a hypnotic stare As breathlessly we danced and soon I became no longer aware Of anyone but us. Cerulean blues flashed over us as he flung my head back His lips bent down to mine, his eyes piercing and black Our hearts beat together as one and my eyes closed for the kiss But colors changed, music was subdued; something was amiss I opened my eyes. It was as if I’d awakened to find that their world didn’t exist And the Latin lover I’d danced with was no more than a mist. Circling couples danced around aimlessly and suddenly I froze Violet hues slid over the walls as he walked into the shadows. His eyes met mine and he vanished.

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Boggled Down

Boggled down and dragging behind,
maybe I'm carrying around to much weight.
I would never ask but I am really in need of a helping hand,
vulnerable and helpless, two emotions I really hate.

My brain is always running in overdrive,
it's hard for me to keep things straight.
I can't concentrate and I lack the ability to stay focused,
I have a lot stacked up on my plate.

The pile just keeps getting bigger,
a little more and more each day.
As each day passes  it's all getting harder to hide,
I might as well place all of my business out on display.

Each morning when I wake up and every night before bed,
I ask the Lord above to grant me one prayer request.
Take away this mental madness, I don't want it anymore,
so I finally can put my mind to rest.

I don't understand why me, 
why did I get saddled with this horrible disease.
After talking with the Lord it was because I was strong enough,
to be able to handle whatever it turned out to be.

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When you make me cower I am
Less than a negative
Less than nothing
Less than wretched

When I false praise you I feel
Like a coward
Like a groveling animal
Like you're dutiful pet

When I finish cooking and cleaning for you
I'm tired but I smile
I'm hungry but I fein
I let you take me and I cry

It's my job 
I am your wife
How I wish for the strenghth
to take you life.

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The Plague

After countless hours of thought,
of looking at myself 
through a microscope.

Dissecting the issues and problems
I see in myself.

I conclude that I am not more 
than a corrupted man.

My mind wanders,
filled with despair and darkness.
My heart voided,
the passion I had removed.

I am not good for anyone,
I am not worthy to be in 
the public's presence.

It would be better to ignore me
than to give me attention.

Maybe then I will see that it is me
that has the problems.

Issues I can only see,
after the fact of embarrassing myself.

Affecting everyone around me,
like a virus.

The room becomes grey,
a little more pessimism,
darker still.

Maybe I could blame how I was 
treated for countless years.

Maybe I could find some reason for
the way I am now.

But here I am,
after everything
is said and done.

My outcome is everything I wish 
it wasn't.

I do not want to be who I once was,
I do not wish to corrupt anyone else,
or to allow myself to affect those
I hold dear.

I must contain this plague that
is within my heart.

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too drunk, not drunk

When your with people you think you can trust

and you get a bit to drunk

and you thought you could trust him

after all your mom loved him


and you go to bed just afer 2

and mom went to bed just after 1

and he came in room just after 4

so you ask him for a pill...

He gets you the pill and you take it for your head

still drunk

     still drunk

and then you lay back down

still drunk

and then his hand snakes out

still drunk

and then his lips meet yours

still drunk

smell the beer

still drunk

and his hand slides under your gown

still drunk

and you just cant say no

too drunk

    too drunk

and his touches, soft but rough

not drunk

    not drunk

and he plays with your untuoched parts

not drunk

    not drunk

and you try to turn but you cant

not drunk

    not drunk

and you finnaly win and turn

not drunk

    not drunk

and he silently walks away

not drunk

    not drunk

and whispers to the dark room

are you drunk

    are you drunk

        are you drunk 

and you wish you could say that you were

so drunk

     so drunk

so you can turn, fall asleep, and forget

not drunk

    not drunk

and you know in deep and dark thoughts...

your not drunk

      your not drunk

             your not drunk

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 I dare of you to dream,

so fare if it all must mean

the fews through radiant doors,

was rotten is to the cores,

for this is just a dream,

an all that it may seem,

for white horse of the night,

thus stalker who takes the light,

for I follow the shadow that lies,

that bleeds into the skies,

for this is just a dream,

an all that it may seem,

I wonder if its so true,

this blessing is given to you,

to all that seem so blue,

it is what you never had new

I found out it was me,

the tainted it only could be,

even if your eyes could see,

the evil that was burned within me.

was without a trace,

of this absence of our grace,

I know his heavenless face,

this stinch of devils and lace,

for this world is but a disgrace,

for the chains of the zodiac, has taken its place.

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Untitled as of yet 1st verse

Patrick Kail

There are silent deeds which needs be done.The sorts of which the Wicker Man would whisper well in a whetstones way.As a well honed edge waits in stealth for the prideful whelp who swaggers tall.Before the footfalls not quite not quite heard but minded , muted , then dismissed.As mostly musings of a childs fear , each step fell mired in the madness blind.Slowly slipping from his mind.Though in truth not far behind him there came that of which no words describe.Other then a Darklings Gift He should beware of.Were He though his fear would quicken.Coagulating slowly at first;Urine:The blood lust.That which bumps within the night is better to be what is heard.Then what harks the call of silent deeds which needs be done.Whilst something wicked this way comes. James P Kail Friday December 14th 2012 as of yet an untitled work verse 1

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Elf, sprite, boy child
dashing dark eyes
never land orphan
velvet feet that danced
light as air that soar
in child like dreams of 
lands and faraway places
where innocence prevails..

Sweetest songs from angel lips
expressions of fear and loneliness
that hid behind the mask,
he unveiled on the dark stage.
begged to be understood by those 
who mocked the man who longed
to soar away and afar to lands where
children play in storybook gardens
and now he sleeps..
eternal peace in heaven's arms..

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It is the PROMISE OF NEW KINGSHIP.  THE END OF FIGHT  'Til an unending bloody finish.

I HAVE OVER HEARD TWO WOMEN DISCUSS DEATH as a little more than an irritation.  Maybe their age influenced their views on death.  They were young and  spry. It is  IMPERATIVE  THAT WE PENETRATE THE WORLD OF SUCH PEOPLE TO INFORM  THEM THAT DEATH WILL COME AND DEATH IS REAL



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devil water

to tell the truth i have to tell the tale of a dangerous drunk...drowning in devil water...soon to get sunk
menacing stares from demons all around...laughing as he stumbles and staggers in the 
another sip of devil water...slippin deeper into sin
he lights a cigarette and smokes his soul to death
from open until close he stays shackled and he's chained
i have to tell the truth...diminsihed he stays drained
devil water brings the pleasure and the pleasure turns to pain

riches turn to rags...beautiful babes and harlot honeys by morning turn to hags
dressed in bags dark disguises get discovered
sweat and tears in love stained sheets...he stays blind and undercover

hungover like a cliff now he's searching for a remedy...pop the top on deadly 
poison...swallow hard his slow disease
a slow breeze it turns into a whirlwind...twisting all of his thoughts,hopes,and dreams
i have to tell the truth as his spirit starts to scream

no way out as devil water starts to smiles turn into sharks and brothers turn into baracudas
mind of madness just like a riot...lawless and loveless grab like looters
spending all his cash on a healthy ass,and hellacious hooters
taking shots like shooters...another bullet in his brain
will this be the lucky night? will he go dark and deranged?

DUI's like invisible and blue lights up the night
he puts the pedal to the metal like an eagle fast in flight
one turns into two and two turns into four and as four turns into he curses being born
mile long skid marks where demons bark...100 miles per hour straight into a ditch...his 
corpse gets parked
way down in the darkest depths now he drinks the devils vomit
he gags and chokes and swears that he will never...
the devil he just laughs as he pulls another lever

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The Gargoyle

                                The Gargoyle

The Gargoyle, a spooky character that sits around castle walls
said to be in league with the Devil, a nondescript creature with
wings, tail and horns, which can be traced back in time to the 
medieval period, were people were often afraid of their own shadow
these Daemon-like apparitions were often worshipped by
Devil worshippers who often made human sacrifices to appease
these Demons; over the years these cults have been slowly 
eradicated by people who stood for law and order in the land
who wanted to stop this barbaric practice.
The Gargoyle eventually disappeared into folk-lore history.

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Rotting Metal Pines

The moon is low, so
I smile(d) at the
dark sky and the
stars that shine. I
speak to ones below.
I let my feet grab
the ground around
the rotten metal
pines. I move slow.
My drowning thoughts
catch wind of a fine
breeze, and are
brought to the
surface just in
time. Met by a dull
glow. And yet led
away to a spot
between two tall
trees. What was dark
is getting darker. 
The cloud overhead
is a monstrosity, I
hope it don't
swallow me whole. My
hands, in fear, grab
whatever's near. And
the time begins to
tick quicker than I
thought was
possible. It was a
fallen stick of
pine, it was
something I could
yield if foes broke
(my) fence.
Something i could
use in a panicked
defense. But
feelings I felt soon
pass(ed) fast. So I
broke that pine
stick, and choose it
for shovel, not
sword.  And I dig
myself a hole,
somewhere to sit my
(tired) spine. I
take a glance.  The
moon pulls my inside
tides. Makes me
question what's
real, and even
what's not. So I
crawl(ed) inside my
head, 'cuz it's all
I got.

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After Work

He throws his black trench coat across the foot stool;
Wet and Cold as he is, he heads straight to the kitchen.
It's dark outside, the neon moon is the only source of light; 
Rain beats down on the glass window.

He blows out all the rosemary scented candles, and swiftly grabs her by the waist,
Taken by surprise, she lets out a silent scream;
The soft touch of his finger caresses her plump lips.
Swaying in tune to the sweet melody played in their heads.

They share a kiss as gentle as a mother holding her newborn;
He picks her up and sits her on the marble kitchen island. 
'Be gentle' she whispers in his ear;
He then thrusts himself into her.

Legs sprawled, arms out; the moans get louder and louder.
They move in rhythm to the tics on the clock.
A bead of sweat drips down her smooth butter skin;
His strong grip around her waist, he gradually moves faster.

'Be gentle' , he slows down and gently kisses her neck;
Then he moves down to her ripe chestnut brown nipples.
He licks her stomach and swiftly thrusts himself into her once more.
Legs wrapped around his dark chocolate body, they move towards the oakwood staircases.

The master bedroom door echoes throughout the house;
The kitchen is quiet, the pit-patter of the rain is swoon.
The rosemary candles take over the faint smell of his cologne;
The intensity has died down, everything is left still. 

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ISIL Dirty Stinking Pedophiles

ISIL came out with their Women’s Manifesto
in which they state that it is okay to marry
a girl as young as nine years of age.
The members of ISIL are dirty stinking pedophiles.

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Death's Kiss

A cold dark night, whispers muttered, I fought for light, and then I uttered,
"Awake me from this nightmare, a black haunting I CANNOT BARE!"
opened my eyes jumped out of my bed, caught my breath, and nodded my head, only a dream,
then I said.

There need not be another that night so I stayed awake in fright,
in fright of that dream, that unbearable thought.

Then as I laid, eyes heavy and weary, so did I fade, into midnight dreary.
When suddenly I felt a presence of pain
a presence of evil, fear, and vain.

Onto the floor then came a drift, and with it fog and ice did sift.

"WHO GOES THERE!" I shouted, to which I doubted my feeble legs as I stood to the floor.
"It is I, Death."
Confused and confounded, I looked into the dark that surrounded, and quite astounded I saw
a monster appear
and to much of my dismay, its finger pointed my way.
"What do you want?" said I in fear "You." said monster, coming near.
"But so young am I" i did reply "Its an awful mistake, for you my life to take."

"Its no mistake, these I don't make." the creature did quake,
With wings of bone, scythe in one hand, he brought fear across the land
and still stood his finger, still at me it linger.
"NO!" I screamed and tried to flee, but move now I couldn't so quickly, for to my dismay
these legs did stay, a thousand pounds they did weigh.

So softly said death, in a single breath,
"No purpose is there, for death is not fair."
"You could be so young, but I do not care."
"And now you must bare what all will bare, Death's cold stare."
"But be not frightened, for with peace will you be enlightened. No more pain or sorrow,
this all I must borrow, until the morrow when all is no more."

His words like razors, cut through my heart
and with it peace, began to start.
For apart from the fear, the unsettled surprise
it dawned to me Death, had opened my eyes.
For life blistered my soul with a sore
that death would heal with its "No More"

"Ok" I said "Take life's pain from my head"
"Bring me peace, among the dead!"

And so quickly he came, and so quickly I went
and brought it no shame, and told it no hint
and with it he did, just as i was told
suddenly no pain, NO FEAR, NONE BEHOLD!
this all he did borrow until the morrow, when all is no more
and of it all i did hear, was just a faint hiss
then into the nothingness of abyss
did my peace come, with Death's Kiss.

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Psychotic Episode

I talk to myself in many voices
Having conversations with myself
Answering my own questions
Thinking it is something else
The mind can play tricks
If you let it

It can convince you of anything
The conscious and subconscious mind
At times feels separate
From each other
Not connecting as well as it could be
A detachment from the brain
Lost in translations
Of many conversations
To feel safe and calm
Within oneself

The fear of losing yourself
When no one hears or believes you
Feelings and thoughts
Put on a dusty shelf
Not everything is clear
But I am totally aware
Of what is going on
Many layers of words
Coming out of nowhere
Can scare the mind into submission

Eating pieces away of your soul
Losing control
Feeling all alone
In your psychotic turmoil
Who will be there in the end
If I go numb and cannot see
Love me as I am
Or set me free to be me

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As I Slowly Crawl

Across the floor

breathing the dust

from my shoes,


gagging on past tracks

of so many others.

It's so cold

down here,

where no one can look up 

to you,

or would,

even if they could.

That light,


under the door,

looks so inviting.

Is it my salvation?

Or only hell's crimson glow.

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn

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The world was dark blue as only the full moon and twinkling stars light the deadly stillness.
A lake as dark and steady as death should be
A white light was gleaming in the emptiness
I didn't know what it was...
A mermaid from the lake? 
An angel from God?
All I knew is that it was a She             
I said hello. She giggled..
And Oh her giggle played with my ears     
I asked again, who are you?
She giggled another time and said, Come closer to see
As my heart was beating like a jungle drum I stepped forward
I was shocked because I saw something more beautiful than anything in the world         
I was speechless, I was paralyzed...
The entire world seemed to stop, the hushing of the trees seemed miles away
My legs felt weak, my heart took flight
I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing 
Because they were seeing... You

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Jack, Johnny, and Me (Repost)

So sad are days in this bitterness
and bitterest cold outside
Gone are friends and leaves 
and grass.
The walls are mocking me, laughing
I can feel me hating me with a passion
This is one of those dark days
I see them at play
The demons who play hell
Casting doubts and leaving
agony in the wake of sunrise
Until this day and I rest again
We will bear it like shackles
dragging loud chains
I will listen to music that worsens it.
I'll drink to the pain, as Im numbing it
Jack Daniels is no friend of mine
  just a confidant in the worst of times
There is no solace in this bottle
Only places to run and hide.
So today I hid from shadows and the sunshine
not letting one loom behind me
        or the other sting my eyes
Contemplating and making sad compilations
mixing and blurring memories
blend them into one absolute emotion
I'll wallow in this today
Looking at a distorted reflection
  it stares back from a whiskey meniscus
Johhny Cash murmured in the background
 smoke wafts through, plumes like lengthy
ghost fingers
  The sun will set on a day like this
It will creep back beyond the waterline
lighting clouds in surrealistic colors
Closure, comfort, and serenity seep in
This was one of those dark days
I grabbed it by the neck 
and conquered it
Jack, Johnny, and Me...

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Sins and Virtues Chapter One

Covered in darkness wearing a veil of evil the bride stands before her groom
and a vile host of wedding guests.  The heat and hate that filled the air was so 
thick that they all choked on it.  Baffled and amazed that Lust the biggest 
slut ever was about to be wed to Greed.  Everyone watched with anticipation as 
a union of sin was joined in unholy matrimony.  The words that flowed from 
the mouth of Pride the priest cut through the air like swords.  "Disgustingly 
wicked we have come together in the presences of demonic forces to witness 
and behold the joining of this devil and slut in unholy matrimony.  This band 
and covenant of marriage was established by evil in darkness.  Lust will you 
have Greed to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage?
Will you obey him, lay with him and fulfill his sexual desires as long as you 
both shall live?"  With the flames of hell burning in her eyes Lust answers "I 
will".  "Greed will you have Lust to be your wife; to live together in the 
convenant of marriage?  Will you supply and adorn her with riches 
as long as you both shall live?"  With a twinkle in his eyes that sparkles like 
gold Greed answers "I will".  "By the powers invested in evil the
bride and groom may kiss".  As their lips 
touched their wedding guests was as silent as a corpse.  Turning her back to 
the wedding guest Lust throws a bouquet of Poison Ivy and Venus flytraps 
over her head.  Stepping in front of Sloth, Envy snatches the bouquet out of 
the air.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The Brown Philosopher aka The Green 
Poet aka Red Seven

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.The survivors. Yes, that's what we call ourselves. We've lived through the terrors of life. 
Gentle hands, soft spoken, safe in his arms. Obey, and listen, and the swirling melody of 
love plays throughout the scene. And yet, this masquerade is always broken to reveal the 
truth. Words sharper than daggers explode around our ears. Bruises appear on our skin. 
We've "fallen", the clumsy females we are. We fell. A sports injury, a car crash, a freak 
accident. Freak accident of hatred. Much like the lion, quiet and stalking, and then exploding 
into a flurry of the hunt. Of the hurt. Swift blows, and blood drips from noses, tears stream 
from eyes in a silver river of desperate please, bruises decorate us in tawnys and majestic 
purples. Reminders of our "wrong doings". We need to pay for our sins. The only witness are 
the walls, and the moonbeams that dance about our dizzy heads. On the ground. Steel toes 
to the back. A crack. Fire. Pain. And then, a cool silence. The rage subsides, and apologies 
appear. "I'll never do it again" and "I lost control" replay in the back of our heads. Our deja-
vu from the previous night. Always the same. Always the pain. The survivors. Thats what we 
call ourselves. And by the dark dance of the moon against the velvet sky, as stars twinkle 
like sequins, and fade into the dawn, we pick ourselves up. New excuses. New plates to buy. 
A new alarm clock. New knives, doors, but no new hearts, stabbed until the hemmoragging 
hurts like a firestorm. Alone. We are alone. We, the Survivors, have lived not an apocalypse, 
not a plane crash, but the darkest part of our lives. Therapy can lock it away, but never 
remove the dark stain of dried blood upon our souls. Lost. We come together, and escape. 
We start anew, but are never the same. Dark dreams, paranoia haunting our shadows, and 
the jumps that come with shattered glass of the clink of dishes. Never the same, but 
stronger. What doesn't kill you is sure to leave a horrible scar, but wounds heal And while 
scars remain as a reminder of the pain endured, we are, for the better, stronger. We 


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The Picture of a Poet

I am watching the picture of a poet
He seems so strong and determined
His face is poised and sure
Suddenly, I see the nearly unnoticeable
Glint of fear in those dark eyes 
That seemed to whisper:
``What would happen if they really knew me?``
But only briefly could these words be heard
For he is a tower, tall and fortified
 ‘’Does this fear really exist?’’
I ask myself as I ponder
Looking into his dark eyes
‘’Yes, it does,’’ they answer
And they start telling me 
With defiant intensity that
His weakness is his strength
Our eyes met and that moment
Is rooted in my mind
Utterly, eternally

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The Locked Room: Whispers of Anubis

In a dark, dark room, 
an eerie aura surrounds; 
deathly whispers crawl in the air, 
sounding like incantations. 

A sarcophagus lays still in the room, 
whispers oozing out of it; no one knows 
that the sarcophagus is a portal to the Underworld, 
where Anubis and his cohorts reign. 

Only the Book of Ra; its jacket containing the symbol 
of the Scarab Beatle, that can chase away the whispers,
and curses from the whispers. 

The evil dead continue to be undead, 'til when the Destined One 
finds Ra's Book, and chants the verses that he sees.......
''Dark things happened there....'' 
they say, with fading tones, 
almost reaching their vanishing point, 
due to unhidden fright. 

Sometimes they hear eerie moans; 
see dancing shadows on the space 
between the door and floor; other times 
whispers that make them feel as though 
they will shatter like hollow glass tubes. 

To stop the haunting, 
they hired spiritualists to seal 
the room's door with their divine will. 

Candles flicker in the night, 
as voices of the undead wander across the corridors.....

(The first verse is a poem titled “Whispers of Anubis”, which was published on 8/9/2014. The second verse is a poem titled “The Locked Room”, which was published on 25/4/2014. I have divided both poems with a dotted line.)

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Born with nothing in this place
Tattered clothes and dirty lace
Searching food to suffice my hunger
When can this life get so over?

Stomach crumbling and dying
Insufficiency keeps me on crying
Looking for a one big help!
This heart only knows how to yelp.

Sleeping in a coldest street,
Folded boxes terribly greet.
Storms are blowing in my life.
This is such a hell of life!

Craving for a one sweet home
How I wish I live in a biggest dome!
Guess my dreams are so unclear…
Everything is just a tear.

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Dark Side

Dark poets reunite and we share our poems
online. As far as I know we are doing really well
without the fuss or the bad that the people think
we do. Like a bat with rabies that is on the verge
of coming after anybody or whoever moves.
Wow, what a scary situation! Dark are the posses
of the gothic clothing. Any songs you wanna sing makes 
the Dark Side an illusional concept in rock n roll.
However, a bad day comes and it brings you down,
write a story, a song, or even a poem, to bring your mood 
from down to radiant. Feel as wonderful as a free flying
black crow. A love for music makes anyone happy.
Just like the love for poetry that has different sides to it.

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Something Real

Lonesome as he is, his days are dark and empty
Something is needed to brighten his day
Its like there is no light the clouds have hidden the warm sun
Something bright, something fun must come his way

A seed. A sunflower seed.
Giving it life by planting it in the ground
The roots start to grow
The petals become a bright yellow

To die. To die must be its greatest fear
The color is fading from yellow to white
To disappear. To disappear to where no one knows of
His life is too complicated. It's dying down.

Lonesome as he is, his days are dark and empty
Something is needed to brighten his day.
Its like there is no light the clouds have hidden the warm sun
Something bright, something, someone must come his way

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Sins and Virtues Chapter Two

"By the powers invested in evil the bride and groom may kiss".  As their lips touched
their wedding guests were as silent as a corpse.  Turning her back to the wedding guests
Lust throws a bouquet of Poison Ivy and Venus Flytraps over her head.  Stepping in front
of Sloth, Envy snatches the bouquet out of the air.  "Nice catch Envy" said Sloth with slow
slurred speech.  "Think you Sloth and I do believe green is more my color".  Turning around 
to see who caught the bouquet Lust wasn't a bit surprise to see Envy holding the Poison Ivy
and Venus Flytraps.  "Well Envy I guess you're next to be wedded off" stated Lust.  Pride
motions for Hatred to release the owls.  Unlocking the huge cage Hatred releases the owls.
Slow to take flight the great owls flap their wings and ascends into the darkness.  "Let's get this
party started.  Turn on the music" yelled Greed.  As the sins partied the night away the sun came
rising in the country Tranquility.  "Are you ready to spend all eternity together?"  Loyalty asked Love
as they stood on their balcony.  "My dear, dear, husband soon to be you already know the answer
to the question you ask".  As Loyalty and Love stand locked in a warming embrace being kissed by
the rays of the sun the two share a kiss of their own.  Beep, beep, beep, "Well this is a perfect time 
for my communicator to beep"  breaking her embrace with Loyalty, Love answers her communicator.  "Hello Faith how are you?"  "I'm fine Love and how are you?"  "I'm ready to
start this new era in my life".  "I'm looking over your wedding file.  Are there any last minute 
changes you want to make?"  "No Faith everything's perfect".  "I'm outside your house waiting for
you Love.  Let's get going".  "I'll be right down.  I have to go Loyalty".  Grabbing Love by the waist
and pulling her close Loyalty whispers in her ear "Are you sure this is what you want?"  "I've wanted
you when I first saw you.  Now if you'll excuse me Faith is waiting for me".
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The Brown Philosopher aka Red Seven

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The Locklears Chapter Three

"What do we have here" reaching her arm 
out in the motion of a snake Linda became 
sexually aroused.
"We have a hammer, scalpel, acid, nail gun, and and 
an ice pick".  Linda's voice was
filled with excitement.  Pissing himself 
their victim began to cry.  "Linda this 
is your victim so you have to inflict the 
first wound".  Responding to Rusty's 
Linda picked up the nail gun.  "Linda you 
don't have to do this, I have kids that I 
for, My name is Timothy Yates, I have 
a wife".  Linda silenced Timothy with a 
swift kick 
to his testicles.  "Look Rusty it actually 
think we care about it's pathetic little 
Placing the muzzle of the nail gun on 
Timothy's foot Linda pulled the trigger.  
Firing a 
hard sharp nail into Timothy's foot.  Blood 
squirted into the air.  "AAARRRGGHH 
STOP!"  Timothy's screams and begging for 
his life only made Linda even more excited 
hornier.  Walking over to Rusty kissing 
him on the lips sliding her tongue in his 
"It's your turn baby".  Handing Rusty the 
nail gun Linda stepped back and shoved 
her hands
in her pants.  Walking over to Timothy 
Rusty began to beat Timothy in the face 
with the nail
gun.  The more Rusty beat Timothy in the
face with the nail gun the harder Linda 
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The 
Green Poet aka Red Seven

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Light On the Devil's Chord -part 3-

In a deep sleep, I fell upon the fields, tired, rejuvenated, and blessed
Wandering in many a dream

A warm sun creeping from the heavy cream clouds woke me up
And I felt His presence once again
Sitting up, I rubbed my weary eyes and smiled sadly,
"He...He spoke to me, and He granted me love, with dreams of hills,
Prairies filled with sunflowers, hares dashing about in joy,
The soft rains from supple clouds tickled my frowns to smiles,
And a turkey from afar winked at me with knowing assurance."

Christ lifted me up and kissed my forehead gently,
"My silly, lovely sister, good morning,
Come with me. . .
We shall talk for a little while,
And then you will be away for a time."

His expression grew grim...

"Yes, my sister, lessons will be learned,
Keep your faith, and your heart will guide you,
Do not give in to the lies of the ancient serpent,
Whom you will see in a very short while
Talk with him, be with him,
But if his claws wrap around your innocent throat,
I am told to not intervene, for this is the test God has given you"

I looked at Christ lovingly and embraced him
"Thanks be to God, for this gift of opportunity,
Tell me how long with the serpent shall I stay?"

He held me tightly for a moment, 
Then looked at me with tears in his eyes

"The Lord God Almighty had visited me last night,
Telling Me to take you to the pit,
Where Satan and his demons thrash,
And for 40 days and 40 nights you shall remain there,
Then you shall see how his mind decays in his ways
That his pride and his servitude of lies and murder slashes all thought of change
That repentance to him, is failure, weakness, and far below him..
You shall soon see if it is possible to save one that does not wish to be saved"

I took Christ's hands
"Do not be afraid for me, my brother,
I am ready for this test
I am ready to face him and give my say,
Though my purpose is risky,
My heart is filled with Your grace, 
And I know even in darkness, God is there
Perhaps I mean not to save him,
But to understand him
I only hope You see the strength in me to fulfill such a thing"

Smiling, He lifted me in the air and twirled me
"Oh precious, magnificent sister!
I never doubt your strength,
For your glory reflects off the face of your Almighty Father
Your questions have filled His heart with gladness and warmth,
Your innocence is precious and fills Him with joy
Testing you, He has no doubt-
Though know mistakes can be made, and will be no less dire
Therefore, be wary in the dark,
For in it you will face illusion, sadness, desire, anger, and all evil shrouding,
No good advice will be given along the way,
It is merely you and Satan, eye to eye 
And the terrible shrieks of the demons at his feet still shall tempt"

Departing from Christ with few last words,
He lead me to the bottomless pit, which is sealed and impenetrable
Advising me to wait, He disappeared from view,
The last of the light I would witness, fading into the mysterious eve

I stared at the mighty seal in awe
Rough rock and black soot surrounding the dread inside...

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NO FANS IN HELL - dedicated to Tim McVeigh, OJ Simpson

Note: Written back before McVeigh's execution for Oklahoma City terrorist bombing.

No fans in hell
McVeigh requesting one now
For hot summer ahead
Can't blow away guilt

Still in remorseless cell
Wanting now to live
No one more undeserving
Laughing at his victims

Feel the heat Tim?
Not of scorching sun
But of burning Hades
Just around the corner

Years torchering victim's families
Only days from over
Cold needle quietly waiting
Ashcroft sealing your fate

Won't be long now
Awakening to victim's faces
Screaming in your ears
This your eternal reward 

O.J. your soul mate
No worry being lonely
He'll be along later
You and Lucifer waiting

Copyright © 2001 - 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn

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Be Like Lot

Carving out some
solitude, for
fortunes have
weighed against me
Tracking life's
linear roots to a
place just beneath
Graced with our
unwritten moral
code, and bracing
for any violent
onslaught that may
invade my personal
space between now
and the near future.
Slicing up some
thick thoughts.
After sounds trade
my mind for sketches
and jots. 
A blatant repulsion
of all things.
Disregarding bits
and pieces of the
whole as i dwell on
an entire field of
Soaking in Sun's big
Drifting in and out
of minutes and pit
frankly, less
It's this place.
It's my face. 
It's this hazed over
valley and this
state of ignorant
It's my late claim
of bitter taste.
But a simple answer
does await.  
Pack up all your
Now, leave, and be
like Lot.
Don't move your
neck, don't turn
your head, for upon
you finally lay that
violent onslaught.

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The Locklears Chapter Seven

Entering the superior courtroom Rusty took a look around.  "Look at all these 
scum bags.  I want to kill everyone of them" Rusty thought to himself.  As he 
approached the bench the inmates was led in by an officer.  After exchanging 
a few words with the judge Rusty took his place by his client's side.  The 
prosecutor presented the case to the judge.  "Your honor this is Victoria 
Freeman.  She is charged with prostitution and drug smuggling".  
Enterrupting the prosecutor Rusty argued on his client's behalf.  "Your honor 
my client was not smuggling drugs.  The marijuana she had was for her own 
personal use".  Cutting off Rusty the prosecutor said "she had the marijuana 
stashed inside her vagina judge".   "Judge my client only had three grams, 
this is her first offense, and she didn't cross state lines".  "No judge the 
defendant smuggled it in jail when she was booked".  "Your honor she told 
the officers about the marijjuana.  So how is that smuggling?"  "Mr. Locklear 
the drug smuggling charge will be thrown out but the prostitution charge will 
stay.  I'm well aware of this being your client's first offense".  "Your honor 
my client has been in jail for a hundred days.  I'm asking for time served".  
"Granted Mr. Locklear and Ms. Freeman stay out of trouble".
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red Seven aka The Green Poet aka The 
Brown Philosopher

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random thoughts on a lazy evening

Patches of dark clouds

Came floating by

Intruding the gold

That mingled with the blue in the sky

If one thought

The dark clouds would mar

They were proved wrong

For the dark too fell at par

Like strokes from a brush

Wielded by a hand delicate

That carelessly swept

Not thinking where it led

Once the deed done

Would have woken with a start

But seeing the result

The smile would have drawn the lips apart

For it brought out

The freshness in the blue

And enhanced

The fire in the golden hue.

Life’s canvass too,

If one thought deep

Only becomes richer

Amidst innumerable careless deed.

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the malkavian - chapter one - the embrace - part one

the alluring subtlety of her curves with each little sway
his basic instincts overflowing from pulsing music and spirits
her attire revealing, leaving little else to the imagination
while her pheromone laced perspiration wafting his way
leads him to eagerly vacate his sedentary position of yearning

his approach stealthy, shadowing her in the rhythmic flailing crowd
her unostentatious heartbeat pulsing ever louder as he draws nearer
discerning her rushing luscious liquid from all others around
changing luminescense reflected in rolling beads of her chest sweat
openly glaring at the flesh confining the valve pumping inside

eyes closed, twirling around, her sensual tornado drawing him in
eyes opened, pivoting stopped, her pursuer's eyes fixated on her
his lavish and sincere visual praising brings about a coy smile
outreached hands taking hold and leading him through the throng
making headway for the exits, her goal the cool, crisp night air

outside the dead night slowly drying up the freshly laid rain
interrupted by the metal on metal clanging sound of the door
protagonist and antagonist, stepping out, hand in hand
their hurried steps implying an itch of a greater magnitude
their hands and lips putting on a public display outside her flat

[ character limit preventing poem from being posted as a single piece - part two quickly forthcoming ]

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precursors of darkness

the quintessential beautiful day
but there is shadow etched in the patches of light
there is taste of misgivings in sweet afternoon air
the heart sketches its dreamscape
but distant thundercloud ripe with storm encroaches
but it is the image that intrudes
a vision from the inner mind
that sends precursors of darkness into my perfect day
an unsettled mind always creates dark creatures
to hunt down and haunt my best moments
why cant i leave myself alone
why must i hound my own footsteps with these dark tidings
the vision that creeps into my heart
is of the girl i left in the mountains
and what joy she would find here in paradise
if i had only
if i could only
would have...should have...didn't
why must i hound myself with all the possible things
she wouldn't even lower herself to talk to me
and i just beat myself up with desires to rescue her
she should be a forgotten bad dream
she should be forgotten....
the quintessential beautiful day
but all i can see is the tombstones of sorrow
and the paths not taken
it will change
it will change
with time
i will leave this dark girl behind

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Rhymes Of Darkness

                        Rhymes Of Darkness

When we were children we where taught nursery rhymes,
And they use to make us happy. Rhymes like London Bridge
And Ring-A-Ring-A-Rosie - these all sound innocent to children.
These rhymes had a more sinister theme, for example, the 
Rhyme London Bridge Is Falling Down, was actually a fact back
In the 19th century in London, where the bridge on the river 
Thames was slowly sinking at a rapid rate into the water, making
It unsafe to handle people and traffic. It was at the verge of 
Collapse. Thus the rhyme London Bridge Is Falling Down,
Meant that if it were to collapse, people would drown and die.
Another rhyme goes back to the plague of London, where people 
Wore face masks  to prevent catching the black plague that
Was brought about by the growth of the rat population. When 
People caught this disease they would hang wreaths of posies 
On the doors of the sick people, and that later produced the rhyme
Ring-A-Ring-A-Rosie, referring to the black plague of London.
'They all fall down', meant that they died from the disease as there 
Was no known antidote at that time. In the end the fire in a
Bakery in Pudding Lane caused the destruction of the plague
And pestilence, and London and it's people were eventually
Saved. Yes, these events created nursery rhymes that children
Have heard through the ages and have loved to read for fun.
They will never know the sinister side of these nursery rhymes.

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What you do today

I sat in the staff room attempting to read my book
along came a co-worker that wanted conversation
In two decades he said the world will fight 
for a shortage of water the north poles melting into the sea 

I replied how is that going to cause a shortage of water
the more water we have in the sea, the more the sun creates steam
the more steam, the more clouds, the more rain, the more water  
the poles melting will not give us a shortage of water

In two decade's he replied the worlds population will increase 
forcing us to fight for water and that your generations fault
I replied "I cant see that as my fault, I didn't have any kids"
so I didn't contribute to over-populating the world

"It's a matter of growing up" I stated "why bring ten kids into a world 
if you know they are going to fight and kill to survive".
"Surely if we only have two kids with each family 
the world's population will decrease"

Your children and their children will die he said
in two decade's I will more than likely be dead
and I didn't have any children so they are not going to suffer
perhaps it's the rest of the world that needs to think.

We have a choice we can either make a world full of joy
or we can make a world full of suffering and pain
the choice is yours what you do today will change the world
what you do today can make it better or worse.

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There’s only darkness overcoming the apparently peaceful halo in my soul,
Darkness only disrupted by the deep roar of a distant thunder,
Announcing the change that can, and must happen,
The first cloud starts to cry, and its tears penetrate in the calm of the dark lake,
Others soon follow, creating an aura of mist around the transparent water,
It’s a warning for me to take shelter, so I can escape the rain, that burns,
Burns my skin with its touch, burns my ears, with its interference in the silence,
And I soon go to my so-called home, nothing more than ashes over ashes that still cover my 
head when it rains, and so I wait…

As I watch the strange phenomenon that with its simple action can cause so much damage 
without even knowing, 
I pray that I can keep my precious silence for some more time,
And as the rain stops, I look to the dark hole that is the sky, in search for a rainbow that I 
know in advance that just won’t come,
Only a reflection of my human nature, searching for a light that I know that doesn’t exist, 
only to find disappointment instead,
I come out of the shelter and see if it’s peaceful again outside, and there’s no sound, 
No rain, no thunder, only the calming sound of the absorbing silence and of death awaiting, 
for every breath that slowly comes out of my burned lungs,
All like it should be, except for a beam of light that paints the sky, with its seven colors 
majestically dancing before my eyes.
The light seemed more present, like it should never fade away, but of course, it 
disappeared, leaving me with despair to comfort my numbed soul,
So, I kept walking, just waiting,

Sitting in a grey heart-shaped rock,I think of death, and how its embrace would  give me the 
silence that I so desperately seek, and that I so desperately reject when it’s right before my 
And so I realized I had become nothing but an addicted for silence and for light, and 
surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me.
I try but I can’t hear anything, I can’t hear the most soothing sound in the world, I can’t hear 
the silence, replaced by shadows, but only for an instant,
Soon, the shadows die around me, only to return the silence and something even more 
precious, the light, the comforting light that my eyes seek so desperately, to drink from it, to 
bathe in it,
And then, followed by change, I stop waiting…

The silence ends, my heart beats again, and I know someday I’ll die, but I don’t mind…

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Red Eyes and Sinister Looks

Chains, hay forks, knives, and a hollow whisper,
become more true and sinister.
Halt in the middle of the moon light, 
and a waver image soon is no delight.
Voices run a muck in the head, 
so not calming you wish you were dead.
Gushing blood through the eye
not an image that you would rely.
Nails stuck on your neck with such pain
so your paralyze just little life sustain.
Hoodlums terrorizing people running a muck
did not really know they are in luck.
More dangerous beings are out their
to commit such act and with sinister stare.
Laughing with haunting echo's through
is an aspect of fear can imbue.
The wind changes direction to smother
the echoing sound of laughter.
The panicking state that you are in
soon drives a knife within.
Blood rushing out of your vain
a crucial part of your life dropping like rain.
Running without a destination
you will never reach anyone of your relation.
Sliding your body on a wall
keeping your fall in a stall.
Red eyes you can see it at night
is soon devouring you with little bite.
Changing your belief with tonics of relief
and it is to late to turn a new leaf.
Ears start to deceive the animals sound
eating limbs are chewing around.
Slowly your red eyes steadily getting heavy
is starting to take your life with a levy.
Dropping down with no attitude
and your life force slowly loses altitude.
Breathing comes not so easy
smelling flesh seems so beastly.
The change comes a desire
with frightening red eyes of fire.
Comes more lethal than the hoodlums 
your heart beating like drums.
Your hand becomes all fury
claws come out and your howl with furry.
Trance your in with no one to blame
a rage thats hundreds of centuries of flame.
Rising from a slumber of long lust
a animal instinct that you can trust.
Tearing things apart with no meaning
is a trait that is so deceiving.
Red eyes at night you see in a window
like a poisonous black widow.
Keeps you in attack mode of insanity
that takes all your vanity.
Ferocious emotions eating away
the soul that you had once betray.
The echoing sounds of loud thunder
breaks away the armor with sunder.
You fall once again to torturous agony
the feeling of one self is so lonely.
Shaking in the corner you are found
with blood soaked skin you drowned.
The night becomes day cruel in some way
your memories go in disarray.
The hunters with torches and sinister look
had parted way their hands shook.

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The Locklears Chapter Four

Walking over to Timothy Rusty began to 
beat Timothy in the face with
the nail gun.  The more Rusty beat 
Timothy in the face with the nail gun 
the harder Linda masturbated.  Placing 
the nail gun back on the push cart
Rusty grabbed the jar filled with acid.  
"Timothy you're in a world of hurt".
Pouring some acid slowly on Timothy's 
other foot.  Rusty smiled as the 
smell of burning flesh crept into his 
Looking back at Linda Rusty was thrilled
to see her getting off on her victim's 
agony.  High on the smell of burning flesh 
floated over to Linda.  Pulling Linda's hand 
out of her pants he sucked and licked her 
juices off her fingers.  "How do I taste?"  
"As sweet as honey.  It's your turn 
Grabbing the scalpel off the push cart 
Linda slashed Timothy's left thigh.  Like 
water from
a water hose blood sprayed through the 
air.  "W,w,w,why are the two of you doing 
this to 
me?"  "Because it's fun Timothy and 
people like you make me sick".  
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The 
Green Poet aka The Brown Philosopher aka Red Seven

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The Locklears Chapter Five

"W,w,w,why are the two of you doing this 
to me".  "Because it's fun Timothy and 
people like you make me sick".  Walking 
over to Linda, Rusty took the scalpel out of 
Linda's hand and cut Timothy's throat.  
Seeing Rusty take another man's life 
made Linda horny all over again.  "You have 
to find the next victim" Linda said as she 
turned towards her husband.  "I've already 
got one picked out.  She's a pill popping 
junkie whore".  Getting down on her knees 
Linda unfasten Rusty's pants.  She pulled 
out his hard dick and placed it in her 
mouth.  She sucked and sucked for what 
felt like an hour.  Filling her mouth with 
semen she happily swallowed the huge 
load.  "C'mon it's time to get rid of the 
body" Rusty could hardly get the words 
out of his mouth as he just finished an 
orgasim.  "Linda baby go get the 
chainsaw.  We have to get rid of the body" 
Rusty began to unshackle Timothy's 
lifeless body.  Walking back into the 
darkness behind Timothy Linda brought 
back the chainsaw.  Timothy's body hit 
the floor making a loud thud.  Rusty 
cranked up the chainsaw and dismantled 
Timothy's body.  Linda ran up stairs and 
brought large black trash bags back down
to Rusty.  "I'll go get rid of these body 
parts.  You stay here and clean up".  "Ok" 
replied Linda.  Rusty went and put the 
black trash bags with Timothy's remains 
onto the back of his 
black 1990 Ram truck.  Rusty drove 
throughout the city of Green Haven and 
dumped Timothy's body parts in 
dumpsters on the north side, east side, 
west side, and south side of Green Haven.  
Returning home the smell of bleach, Pine 
Sol, and other cleaning products greeted 
him at the door.  "Linda I'm back".  "Come 
down to the basement Rusty.  Well this 
was the best Sunday I ever had".
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The 
Brown Philosopher aka The Green Poet

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The Locklears Chapter Three

Placing the muzzle of the nail gun on 
Timthoy's foot Linda pulled the trigger.
Firing a hard sharp nail into Timothy's foot 
blood squirted into the air.  
screams and begging for his life only 
made Linda even 
more hornier and excited.  Walking over to
Rusty kissing him on the lips sliding her 
tongue in his 
mouth.  "It's your turn baby".  Handing 
Rusting the nail gun Linda stepped back 
and shoved her
hands into her pants.  Walking over to 
Timothy Rusty began to beat Timothy in 
the face with the nail
gun.  The more Rusty beat Timothy in the
face with the nail gun the harder Linda 
Placing the nail gun back on the push cart 
Rusty grabbed the jar filled with acid.  
"Timothy you're in a 
world of hurt".  Pouring some acid slowly 
onto Timothy's other foot.  Rusty smiled 
as the smell of 
burning flesh crept into his nostrils.   
ME".   Looking back at 
Linda Rusty was thrilled to see her getting 
off on her victim's
agony.  High on the smell of burning flesh 
Rusty floated over to Linda.  Pulling her 
hand out of her pants
he sucked and licked her juices off her 
fingers.  "How do I taste?"  "As sweet as 
honey.  It's your turn again".
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The 
Brown Philosopher

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The Locklears Chapter Two

With fear in his eyes the shackled man 
asked who they were.  "My name is Linda 
Locklear and this 
is my husband Rusty Loclear".  "Enough 
with the small talk Linda go get the work 
"As you command daddy".  Walking past 
their victim into the darkness Linda 
grabbed the cold steel push cart
and brought it to Rusty.  "Will you just look 
at all these toys" Rusty's eyes lit up like a 
child's at Christmas.
"What do we have here?"  Reaching her 
arm out in the motion of a snake Linda 
became sexually aroused.
"We have a hamer, scalpel, acid, nail gun, 
and an ice pick" Linda's voice was filled 
with excitement.  Pissing himself
their victim began to cry.  "Linda this is 
your victim you have to inflict the first 
wound".  Responding to Rusty's words 
Linda picked up the nail gun.  "Linda you 
don't have to do this" pleaded the man.  "I 
have kids that I provide for,  My 
name is Timothy Yates,  I have a wife".  
Linda silenced Timothy with a swift kick to 
his testicles.  "Look Rusty it actually think 
care about it's pathetic little life".  Placing 
the muzzle of the nail gun on Timothy's 
foot.  Linda pulled the trigger.  Firing a 
hard sharp
nail into Timothy's foot.  Blood squrited 
into the air.  
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The 
Brown Philosopher aka The Green Poet

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The Sea Blue Eyes I

Once in a while I meet a person whose eyes tell their story
The story is like the sky reflection on the seas of glory
The eyes are all the wonder of the world
It sees the future, past, and present
The eyes give us knowledge of the world and reflection
The reflection of sadness and weakness of each creature
The wonder of each individual being has a present
To the world who has lots of false images
To arise the moment of that one glance
To follow the heart in romance
Just the reflection that gather in your eyes of blue
What a man and a woman should view
Life is such a pain without stopping to see each eyes
Its like roses you have to enjoy each passion in side
When that moment collides with mind and heart
Nothing in your soul can keep your love apart
Join in the fun look in every eyes of a person beside
With passion and romance I bet you, you would cry
The luster of all the things to come
A bounty of life long needs to be given by just the wonders of the eyes
The blue seas reflects the different depths of our feelings
And it should become revealing
Come to your senses with ravaging hormones of lust
The sea can take you and even the reflection in the eyes of the person
The beauty is not held by one it is held by everyone
Such looks with fear for no relief
Is almost a dreadful part in our human nature
Beware of what can happen when emotions are held
Held to the core of an individual
No such thing is kindness when you find yourself in the Sea Blue Eyes
Calling in your soul by just looking
With ignorance you play around with such futile emotion
Gush away the fear and do not go insane with life so dear
The grasp of the titans comes to reveal
The evil within your heart is so obscenely noticed
You want the sea and you want those eyes to look at you with wishes
The rage in the heart are waves that cannot stop 
It pushes and pushes with no regret
The heart falters and there is only one thing in your mind
The idea of one soul to be with is the ocean 
The rifts that is trying to break to end the wants of desire
Cannot be trusted in a human lier
The beauty of man is destruction 
The beauty of women are commands
The eyes of each does not matter in the sea
Because all emotion and desire is given to those who are true
Command of a person is just one thing 
The desire to destroy is another
The Sea Blue Eyes will see no bother cause it bares it all
Even the utmost desire
To be continue.

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One day when you are big and strong 
I will explain to you the confusion
the reasons behind the way it is
and why you are the one thing that has kept me going 

On that warm day in June 
when the angels took Liliana 
it was you that helped me rebuild my life
you were the focus in my life

Two years old and my saviour
the person I have to thank for life
your smile stopped the tears 
and your laughter raised me up

To my boy, Harisson
In your little two years of life
you have brought me through the dark 
and are my light at the end of this dark tunnel 

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the malkavian - chapter one - the embrance - part two

with ravenous intentions, their clothes getting tossed about
before retreating to seclusion under virgin white sheets
chests heaving, bodies writhing, lips locked and never parting
frolicking over and spent, he on his back, her on his chest
a few remaining kisses venturing up his chest to his collar
the warm breathes expelled from her lips exciting his skin

silently baring fangs, she takes hold with both hands and teeth
still love drunk, he lies unaware of the life fleeting from him
each warm, ichorous mouthful of vital fluid tightening her grip
nearly drained, he can feel the fleeting pitter-patter of his heart
all the strength he can muster to shed his aggressor is no match
his life flashing and vanishing before his eyes bit by bit by bit

after drowning herself in several liters of lifeblood, she releases
gasping and groaning as she raises up, whipping her gossamer hair back
staring paralyzed, his vital fluid running down her chin, neck and chest
arms weakly outstretching, lips moving but words having difficulty escaping
arms collapsing, eyes closing, labored breathing as death's veil draws near
the light of his eyes growing dimmer, dimmer still until all but gone

her hardened nail slicing at the wrist of her unnatural pallor stark skin
providing a lifeline to her future child, trickling over his pale lips
dry mouth opening, tongue slithering to take first taste of his new life
in a mere instant, he can already feel a degree of psychosis taking over
strengthened and frenzied, he raises up and leeches onto his new sire
the holy grail of madness emptying and replenshing his once vacant vessel

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A Memoir To Me

 She's got a smile that would light up the world 
 Skin so dark and lovely
 Always had those dirty ole fingernails
 Never that outspoken, but when she spoke, oh she said it
 Was so neat and artistic
 Always writin' and wonderin'
 Writin and wonderin'
 Never that guilty of anything
 Tried to be a perfect little angel
 That girl everyone befriended
 So shy, so mellow so sweet 
 Sweeter than peaches on a Sunday afternoon
 Always smilin' bout somethin'
 She's got a smile that would light up the world
 Skin so dark and lovely

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Our Father Chapter two

Ever morning Mary and Elizabeth would try to scrub
the betrayal of their father off their flesh.  "Our dead 
mother must be crying her eyes out in heaven" Elisabeth
said to Mary as they got ready for church.  "I wonder what
his congregation would think of him if they knew?" replied
Mary.  "Girls are the two of you ready yet?  You don't have 
time to gossip".  "We're ready" said Mary.  The Israel family 
piled into their family car.  As Zechariah drove to his church
The Voice of God Ministries he quizzed his daughters with 
Bible questions.  "Elisabeth how many books are in the Bible?"
"There are 66 books in the Bible".  "Very good Elisabeth.  Mary
who were the parents of John the Baptist?"  "Zechariah and 
Elisabeth".  "Very good Mary".  The Voice of God Ministries is
the biggest Evangelcial church in all of North Carolina.  Every
time Zechariah Love Israel approached his church his heart
fills up with pride.  "We are the light of the world.  We must 
guide the people to God" said Zechariah as the Israel family 
got out of their family car.  "Let's get ready to welcome our 
members" grabbing Mary and Elisabeth by the hand Zechariah
and his daughters entered The Voice of God Ministries.  Zechariah
was a preacher who was known for his over the top sermons.
With his knowledge of the Bible and his great speaking ability he
held his congregation in a trance.  At the end of every worship service
Zechariah stood at the entrance of the church and shook hands with his members.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The Brown Philosopher 
aka The Green Poet aka Red Seven

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Darker Blood

Rome was burning; the smell of invasion
deep in smoke, spread all over the Aegean Sea;
swords and shields were flooded in blood;
blood that belonged to Roman and Celtic race.

"It appears that we Romans have the same blood
as the Celts!" a philosopher exclaimed.

The Celts blood was believed to be darker than Romans',
for they were primitive savages, unlike the Romans;
the Romans tainted the etiquette of virtue by invading
the Celts' home of their ancestors.

It was now hard to know which blood was darker.......

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The Sea Blue Eyes II

There she is the false image standing quietly
She is just standing looking at a beautiful flower
She notices her passion of earthy desire
Something is happening she burst into the sun
I look up as her hands grasp my face
Her sea blue eyes gazed at me
Her warm hand and then a bright light blinded me
I went down on my knees and cried
The salty water dropped on to the ground 
I live by the ocean so deep
I do not know how to swim
By the thought of a beautiful look 
That made me shake
With fear in my head I saw those Sea Blue Eyes
I cannot restrain myself she burst into the sun
What is going on is it just the feeling of being left behind
She was a desire and now I have none
Driving nuts and insane what will I do
Believing such a image is a dream
I walk on the sand by the ocean with flowers in my hand
Raising it to the sky and trying my best to lure her
The image came close 
It pulled me into the ocean I was soaked
What a lonely human being I am
I grope the sky with such desire
I look pitiful and look anguished
What horrible feeling I have to pull the beauty that is nature down
The wind blew one day the image once more appeared
A young woman standing beside a flower with deep Sea Blue Eyes
Looked at me a glance of hope and happiness came
I reached for her and all of a sudden I fell into a deep sleep
Months past they had told me that I jump off a cliff 
They explained that the flower patch was by it
I realize heaven and earth cannot be reached with out a sacrifice
With meaningless thoughts I would wonder of to the cliff area
To see the ocean were it meets and ends
I was told a story long ago that the feelings of the ocean can seep into your soul
The trend of this story came shortly after some deaths
I was fooled the lady with the Sea Blue Eyes can manipulate anyone
Ladies and men, she is an illusion of the utmost desire
Blaming everyone human kind knowing they are lyres
The ghostly images that creeps everyone is oneself
Desire falls upon those who are lonely 
Believe of the unnatural becomes science
The Sea Blue Eyes is no lie cause they have been taking souls
Through century they have been taking souls for tolls
I stood once again near the ocean reaching to the sky
Lonely I was ready to disappear 
One day she not the lady of the sea it was the one I knew
I was blessed that day she embrace me 
I then fell into a slumber of bliss and desire
Now I just hear voices and I am paralyze down
A disappointment I was fooled once more by the Sea Blue Eyes 

To be continue.

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The Locklears Chapter Two

"Poor, poor, little man I'm not a prostitute. 
I just pose as one on the internet and in 
the streets.  That's how I get pigs like you"
said the woman with an evil grin.  "I know 
you didn't think a woman
as beautiful as my wife would be 
interested in someone like you."  Said a 
tall figure as he emerged out 
of the darkness behind the shackled man.  
With fear in his eyes the shackled man 
asked who they were.
"My name is Linda Locklear and this is my 
husband Rusty Locklear."  "Enough with 
the small talk Linda go 
get the work tools."  As you command 
daddy".  Walking past their victim into the 
darkness Linda grabbed the 
cold steel push cart and brought it to 
Rusty.  "Will you just look at all these toys"  
Rusty's eyes lit up like a child's at
Christmas.  "What do we have here?"  
Reaching her arm out in the motion of a 
Linda became sexually aroused.  "We 
have a hammer, scalpel, acid, nail gun, 
and an ice pick"
Linda's voice was filled with excitement.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The 
Green Poet aka Red Seven aka The Brown

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The Locklears Chapter Six

Rusty went and put the trash bags with Timothy's remains onto
the back of his black 1990 Ram truck.  He drove throughout the
city of Green Haven and dumped Timothy's body parts in dumpsters
on the north side, east side, west side, and south side of Green Haven.
Returning home the smell of bleach, Pin Sol, and other cleaning products
greeted him at the door.  "Linda I'm back".  "Come down to the basement
Rusty.  Well this was the best Sunday I ever had".
The rays of the sun came peeking in through the bedroom window of Rusty
and Linda Locklear.  "Linda get up it's time to get ready for work".  "Five 
more minutes Rusty just five more".  "We've already over slept.  Get up".
Stretching out her arms Linda got up and headed to the bathroom.  "I'm 
using this shower.  You can use the other shower".  The two of them hit 
the showers and got ready for work.  "Rusty who are you defending today
in court?"  "I'm defending this drug addicted, drug smuggling prostitute.
We'll talk after work.  I want to hear about what went on at Pine Needle
Hospital today".  Grabbing his briefcase Rusty left for work.  Pulling into 
the parking lot of Green Haven courthouse Rusty parked and went inside.
Entering the superior courtroom Rusty took a look around.  "Look at all these
scum bags.  I want to kill everyone of them" Rusty thought to himself.  As he
aproached the bench the inmates was led in by an officer.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The Brown Philosopher aka The Green 
Poet aka Red Seven

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In the inky mass of moonless sky
angry spirits roam courting my breath
they swirl
applaud and dance behind my closed door
Cold confused creatures
cursed zombies cast off earth heaven and hell
Thirsty they long for the flow in my veins
quest is on for my fresh flesh
Scared and lost in circle and prayer i behold my soul
vigorous they get at the scent of my ignited righteousness
In coals and fire a sacrifice they intend to make of my undefiled body
light to alter doom and their state
key to unshackle the limbo
A mark
Baptism for their liberation.
I am a consecrated medium
haunted by shadows and shades of darkness.

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Lost In The Night

Seeing them in bed together after trying to surprise her by returning home a night early from my trip was more of a surprise for me.

I rushed out of the house with her cries and his bare ass pounding down the stairs after me.

I drove away as fast as I could.  The city trailed off in the rearview mirror.  The houses became fewer and farther between.  The night grew dark and misty.  I wasn’t even sure in which direction I travelled.

I was so angry; I saw red.  I was so hurt; I saw my own heart break.  I was so confused; I saw a bleak future.  What I did not see was the gas needle drop below “E” before the car drifted to a stop.

The words I screamed into the night are not fit for print.  I danced around the car in a tantrum; mixing the howls of a wounded animal with thunderous kicks into the side of my now gasless car. 

By the time I regained my senses, the circle of eyes reflecting the faint light in the dark night were nearly upon me.  As I violently tugged on the driver’s side door, I noticed the lock peg in the downward position and the keys dangling in the ignition.

The adrenalin of fear added to the adrenalin of anger, hurt and jealousy.  I turned to the pack of wolves; bared my own teeth; held up my hands and charged towards the largest beast of the pack, yelling like a deamon from hell.

My world soon turned as dark as the night.  I felt no pain.  I felt no fear.  I felt nothing.  I drifted into the fog.  I felt my soul being torn from my body – but no pain accompanied the sensation.

Slowly, I blinked my eyes open.  I tasted blood from fresh, raw meat in my mouth.  I had strands of hair in the fingers of my tightly clenched hands.  My clothes were ripped to shreds – but I lay naked on a soft, large bed.  The sheets, soaked in blood, felt fresh, none-the-less.

I sat up with my muscles aching as if I had just finished a workout in the gym.  I was covered in blood, but, after a quick inventory of all my parts – I bore no cuts, no bruises, no sores, no pain.

Suddenly, I sensed the two bodies that lay on the floor at the foot of the bed.  My wife and best friend laid in a bloody mess with limbs torn, teeth marks all over their bodies and the look of terror frozen on their faces.

Outside on my lawn, I saw the tail end of the pack of wolves slowly moving towards the woods.  In unison, they turned and looked at me.  They raised their noses towards the dawning sky and let out a piercing howl.

I joined in the refrain.

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It was a miserable day out 
once during the hot summer
all through the evening
I heard only the children playing outside;
I looked out through my window
to recollect my childhood days..
something i found at that moment
a smile on my face
with tears in my eyes
I imagined that was a life otherside.

I saw the sun to settle down but 
that evening the moon didn't wake up
The stars were somewhere in the sky
that day it was out of sight through naked eyes.
A calm environment made someone's whisper louder
moment later a strong wind breaking that whisper
making miserable haunted clattering sounds outside.
Again i looked through my window
now i found the environment has changed 
from a hot sunny day to a dark lightning evening;
drops of water falling from the dark thunder clouds.
I experienced three different situations on the same day
from a miserable summer day to a calm evening 
from the calm evening to a haunted dark night.

I closed my eyes and counted from hundred to one
'it had been a miserable day
once during the hot summer;
It had been a painful life
once making a long journey'
'all through the evening
i heard only childrens' playing outside;
all through my life
i heard my own voice from inside'
'i looked through my window
to recollect my childhood days;
I asked my own heart
where i found only one name'
something I found at that moment
a smile on my face
with tears in my eyes
I imagined that was a life otherside.

I closed my eyes and counted from one to hundred-
I realized day by day my love to her perished down
this realization brought me a new life
but i found no love left within me
until i learnt there were no more water left in my eyes.
i met that unknown time when i heard another whisper
but moment later love brought me a natural death.
again i asked my heart
now i found it answered something has changed
from love to the coldest end.
I picked up the broken glasses and tried to see my own face
the images i got are solely all different.
and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it 
and see the broken glasses as long as I live.


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The Locklears Chapter One

"Wakey, wakey, sleepy head" the woman's 
voice was cheerful
and playful as she threw a glass of cold 
water in the unconscious 
man's face.  "Wha, wha, what happened? 
Did I fall asleep?"  As
the man opened his eyes he tried to move 
but couldn't.  Looking around
he realized he was in an upright position 
eagle spread.  Each wrist and
ankle was shackled, locked, and chained.  
"I'm not into locks and chains.  I'm the one 
paying for sex you have to do 
what I want".  The man's words were 
slured as he looked at the woman.   "Poor, 
poor, little man
I'm not a prostitute.  I just pose as one on 
the internet and in the streets. 
That's how I get pigs like you" said the 
woman with an evil grin.  "I know you
didn't think a woman as beautiful as my 
wife would be interested in someone like
you" said a tall figure as he emerged out 
of the darkness behind the shackled man.
with fear in his eyes the shackled man 
asked who they were.  "My name is Linda 
and this is my husband Rusty Locklear".
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red 
Seven aka The Brown Philosopher aka 
The Green Poet

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The Diary Of Lord Kellington (13)

I awoke early this evening,
Just as I had planned.
I wanted to see a sunset.
I feel.

As I sit and contemplate
the blisters upon my hand,
I realize the truth.
That bloody hurt!

What was I thinking?
What was I wanting?
What did I expect?
Why did I even seek the sun?

Am I wanting true death?
I don't think so.
Have I outlived my usefullness?
Perish the thought.

I must chalk it up to my love of beauty.
My love of all things mystery to me.
I know my tailor sews my clothes,
but how he comes up with the designs,
is a mystery.

I know my cat is hidding mice
within my lair.  I can smell them, hear them.
This is a mystery as to why she does so.

My latest cloak is mystery itself.
So dark an indigo, as to be night.
The lining so dark a red, as to be blood.
With pockets of every shape and size
sewn within.  Each pocket lined with
butter soft leather.  
There are even places to obscure the presence of a knife.

I have decided it will be my new Mourning cloak.
Worn when dining.  Perhaps a small souvenir tucked here and there within those lovely 
No!  That I will never do.  There are rules and etiquette to be followed.

Ah, the moon shines now upon my desk.
The clock is ticking.  My night time
fun ends quickly.

A last stroke of the quill.  A last kiss upon a mangy, rat smelling head of crystal
and I am off.

~Lord Kellington

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It  was not an endearing place, a storybook place
With little cottages and
Loaded fruit trees from which apples could be casually filched, 
Nor were there  sparkling streams for pushing hot feet into in July, 
Or even grassy parks where the dog and the kids could romp 
And old men sit and smoke pipes.
My childhood England was industrial, dark  and dirty, 
And instead of the skirl of bagpipes or the weeping of a fiddle, 
There were the round-the-clock sirens and   
Whistle-changes of factory shifts 
And the clash of steel loads being trucked to the docks.

It threatened to suffocate me,
To imprison my mind between slabs of coal and pints of brown ale,
And when I walked the streets in search of meaning I found nothing
Except a weekly cycle of  movies showing how real people lived.

I emerged from  it and never returned  -
And quickly forgot its worthless heritage of coal-dust,   and
Found real places and lived a real life far beyond the horizons 
Drawn by the schools of Gateshead.
Now, however, in the silent moments of creeping age and grown children,
The steep streets pitching down to the teeth of the Tyne
Gnaw into my fattened mind and reach to the bones of my brain
Where the smell of coaldust still lingers -
And always will.
And I feel again the empty  places,  the dark places, the places calling 
My name in a strange dialect I have long abandoned.

Somehow   they seem less  cold and uninviting:
Their song is not off-key;
And the  horizons drawn by my own hand 
Seem to merge together in that blackened townscape.

God forbid I should ever end up there for good;
But I hear its siren song  and cannot shake its 
Foundation stones free of my structured life.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 


Gateshead is an industrial city in northern England.... imagine  Akron, Youngstown, Toledo, Essen, Chemnitz, or similar towns, and it will give an idea of Gateshead.

River Tyne is the river on which Gateshead stands, now a pleasant waterway , then  more like an open sewer.

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The End of My Nightmare

The dark took from the space I lived
And it buried me deep inside
But I struggled within my own soul
Leaving my heart and mind behind

I saw an open space where I crawled under
I could see a stream of light shining through
But the more further I reached there, it was getting harder
And I was stucked in the middle of the truth

I cried for help without my voice screaming
I tried to reached my hands forward to freedom
The world was spinning in my head
I decided I would have to stay here a little longer

Angels surrounded me when times I am in fear
And I seized all that pain away
Follow all my unfulfilling footsteps
I would never get lost in the way

And so I found the light again
It was becomeing large as I move closer
The dark faded as I went to open the door
And there was when I realised it's over

In the end of my nightmare
I struggled upon my very feet
Trying to stand with my mind broken
I won't wait till I bleed

At the end of this nightmare
I opened my arms wide in the light under the sun
And I stare into the blue sky which i had longing to see
Open my eyes to the clouds moving east
I saw the birds flying over me
And the nightmare I fought through
And in the end of my nightmare
I had finally found the hidden truth

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Her name was Judy McCormick, she was fourteen - barely
I was also fourteen, but claimed to be fifteen
She was slim,  pretty with  shortish dark brown hair,
Almond eyes, loveliest I'd  ever seen
And a soft sweet smile, I just knew she would be nice

Noticed  her in the movies, one glance followed another
Found ourselves laughing at the same things we’d see
After  the theatre  walked her home  with her little brother
Would she come again next week   with me ?
She said yes.  I felt ten feet tall

We met at the theatre as arranged, it had rained
We went dutch. I bought her ice cream after a while.
We watched Steve Reeves  in  HERCULES UNCHAINED
Cant recall the plot, only her eyes and smile
Kissed her secretly in the dark  -  salty, gently.

In those days  sex hadn’t been invented.
We walked home hand in hand and kissed again at her door
Yeah, corny, improbable, but true  - virginity undented
How did  the first date end? We both were delighted and more
With ourselves and decided to arrange another date. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Written  for  Carol  Brown’s   Contest    “My First Date”

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The midnight plant-watering ritual

Long after the neighborhood sprinklers
had shushed the night into silence
the closing of a door interrupted
and a dark figure glided across
the lawn, behind a wall
and disappeared.

A moment later it reappeared
and the face of a man could be seen
flickering like a candle in the streetlights

Suddenly the man stopped
and the world
like a
beneath his feet.

It became unbearable to stand
and he sat on a porch step beside a stray cat

Sharp shadows crossed 
the man’s face and
an orange glint of
light was reflected
in his spectacles.

His cat purred as
he stroked it but
he looked straight forward
and did not smile.

His attention was focused
on a pinprick of light
in the vast dark canopy
called night.
He pondered his place
in the universe as 
tufts of hair fell
from his hand
and were

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For Love of Night

Look at the moon and the stars above
 Do not fear the dark my love
The dark is my serenity
 Not for you but for me
Look in my eyes and you shall see
 The pain I’ve felt for eternity
Look in my eyes as you draw near
 Don’t look away do not fear
One more step and you will have
 All the freedom of your past
Feel my breath upon your back
 As my fangs pierce your neck
Feel the pleasure I shall give 
 For eternity we shall live
Side by side we will fly
 Through the night through the sky
Until one day the sun shall rise
 That will be our demise

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Man on the holy mountain

From the top of the mountain, so high
he sits and watches, his children play
he closes his eyes, and he cry's
Through the silver clouds of heaven,
rain begins to fall, washing his children
the lan runs red, turning dust to clay
The winds begin to howl, with a voice of sorrow 
as a father mourns, the loss of his child
the man looked up, toward the heavens
he spoke softly, but they are my children!
with that the sun and the moon moved together,
melting into one.
The clouds grew dark and began to rumble
the stars exploded into a brilliant blue,
while falling from their place in the sky
striking the ground with such force,
as to make the mountains quake
The children no longer played, they ran with fear
but it was too late, there was no place to hide!
Multitudes of warring angels, covered the day-night sky
lighting their way with swords, made from the eyes of, 
captured demons.
Watching as the iron clad angels, swooped down upon
the children, grabbing them up, devouring them whole.
The man on the holy mountain, pleaded!
But the lord god said"NO"
we must cleanse this sinful playground
destroy the rotten flesh, plant new seeds of love
and forgiveness in this dark world!
They smiled, as all went black!!!!

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Somewhere in Mexico

Stranded,wandering drunk tired
miles from the nearest ghost town ,'67 mustang ,yesterday's hotwire
Tijuana bound,spilled its fuel then broke down
you search finding nothing for miles around

Worn by desert air
wandering lost somewhere
in the desert,its season's always summer
blue skies grew dark beyond the horizon...distant thunder

Deathly tired and coursed without water 
an expired beer and tequila quench your thirst an order
once cooled by melted crushed ice and chilled lime twist
it's the last remains of last night's tavern visit
skin sunstained dark several shades until it pained
tequila tamed your voice hushed gentle,almost sane

Slow tormenting day 
in the distance canyon shade
near the Pacific border miles of landless space ,but its filled with salted water

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Rape My Future

I want to hide in the closet
My heart jumps with fear
I wish I wasn't here
The arguing begins to come to an end 
Tears began to escape my eyes
The shadow that locks my view
Is so cruel and devious 
I lock the door in fear 
Of what lurks in the shadows
What lurks beyond that door
The door knob turns with creaks of misery
The thought of what the cruel shadow might do 
Escapes my mind to hide in the dark corners 
Of the world that I was once afraid
Even though I fear the loneliness of the dark
The loneliness of the dark comforts my fears
The door opens in inches like a snake 
Awaiting its next meal like prey in the jungle
The pain makes the breathe escape my lips
The flesh to flesh touch makes my body numb
The rivers flow between thy legs
Where is thy protector?
I should speak for the cruel shadow
That shows me his pain and misery throughout life.
And now
Here I stand underneath the belt of poverty 
Rape my future
An I shall be one with poverties own.

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A Flickering Flame

Ah, a flickering flame with shadows on the wall,
With glimmering lights rolling all around!
I will remember them all!
A flame so high,
But a flame so low,
A burn out in time!
A linger much too slow,
A flickering flame,
A moment that I claim!

Ah, a flickering flame where light covers dark and dark covers light.
With glimmering lights bouncing all over the walls!
A vision of true sight!
A flame so unpredictable,
But a flame so respectable!
A flame hard to know,
And one that can’t be controlled!
A flickering flame,
A moment that I gain!

Ah, a flickering flame showing dim light within its own domain.
With shimmering lights reflecting a glare of golden visions burning too bright!
How very well maintained!
A flame so harmless,
But a flame much too careless!
A flame too passive,
And one that’s way too captive!
Ah, a flickering flame,
A moment that I’m holding with no shame!

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Summer Tale

Daytime,sunshine...crystal clear
burning through clear blue atmosphere
Tanning laserays of light
Ignite solar candled lantern aisles by night

Silent meadows and sheep grazed pastures bare
Summer's yield matching colors grown in pairs
Travelers' eyes steal glimpses of the ancient surreal
Clever celestial timing ,ensures summer's perfect weather

Past summers remembered
My skin sunburned tender
Its old age hastened ,its healing's slow,yet I've patience
Horizon gaze ,wading shallow shore waves
cold and curing,my sunburn tamed
Sand impressions proof of my presence
Vanishes as saltwater tides retreat
Forming rythmic swells, cleansing sand,fine as snow,each grain unique 
Potential their essence
Each memory ,an impassionate impression
Resolves imaginitive questions
Sacred memories remain life's essence

An unresisted inclination to explore
its endless trails is ignored
by wiser travelers who retire near crossroad trails
each day's passage,treasured memory for nostalgic tales

Blond sunlight through graying skies pale 
Dark as dusk,sunlight's cloaked in an expanding veil
As distant thunder grew near,cooling air held an odor of ionized rain
As electrical glimmers lit skies dark as eve which shadowed verdant plains

Camera eyes skygazing dusk to morn
Canvas skylight's color transformed
Night darkness followed ,silence filled this vast woods hollow
Heaven's light shone pale through eve's black veil
Pearl moonbeams and crystal starlight invite
Passage through dark meadow trails
An ancient summer tale ,
Eyes photographed evenings past

As morning passed
Harsh molten light shone through thinning cloud mass
Burning fine white sand ,each glass

Verdant flowerfields ,summer's pretty yield 
Camera eyes steal as autumn's shades are revealed

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not long ago the earth was young
a dark shadow rose and blocked the sun
the people were lost in the chaos and hate
they lost everything to this dying fate
as luck grew low and people grew weak
they cried to the sky "its a miracle we seek"
this was the first time the moon did glow
yet not one soul would know
the moon was the miracle of which they cried
and without the shadow passes as the sun bound
by the moon, cycled the earth around and around

peace remained because day and night
slept peacefuly with dark and light
with their truth, protected us all
but with them soon came the fall
a fight broke out between anger and tears
night tried to stop it, but then came fears
fears and envy bred hatred anew
and chaos again spawned and grew
all was not lost at this time of pain
but hope was rare and almost found it vain
a balance must create a chaos
just as finding causes true loss
so if we could not have perfect peace
then how do we quell hatred the beast
if light and dark were truly the same
why was it chaos who was always to blame

finally the spiris decided to go their own ways
tired of wasting energy on the fighting days
their final solution was what saved us all
keep far from each other or suffer the call
if one met another we would all return
and this world that was protected would cease to turn

so now with fears, hate, envy, chaos, tears, dark, night, day, and night along
if these nine spirits had left one another and where seperated and gone
this is where twilight enters the truth
along with the others and joining them were; friend ship, joy, compasion, teamwork, turth
twilight you see was the one that brought with it the rest
twilight brought together everyone and their best
twilight truly showed them the way
and these are the words twilight spoke that day

as long as i remain, i reside of both
dark and light
of day and night
of chaos and compasion
of envy and teamwork
of truth and tears
of joy and fears
of friendship and hate

so believe in me and have no shame
it is only i that hold the burden of blame
i who am everything of you and yet
i who have nothing to lose or benifit
you must reason among one another
and find it in your selves to trust each other

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beginnings and endings

i go in the morning, 
as i normally do, and 
warm my cup of coffee,
robust awakenings to today,
sit down and begin to arouse and 
contemplate the day before me

after a bit, i move about and 
down the last of the cup,
then i swish the final in 
and i realize immediately 
and run to the kitchen sink 
a few steps away
...and spit out.

i look down and see
a dark form in the sink
unmoving, i mindfully think,
a fly, as dead

with revulsion i feel
the solidness still
within my mouth bouncing 
across my tongue,
and glance again
to the bottom of the sink
and spy the second fly!

two dead flies i surmise
were stroking in my cup
in the romance of the night,
buzzing vaguely French soundings
between them, ripples expanding
in their caffeinated pool

"aaah, my dear you make me
feel so alive! so energized!"

"oooh, i too feel alive my love
in this cool dark water
with you...drowning beside me"

and i wonder if these
anthropomorphic house flies
really loved each other...really,
and would prefer to...go down,
together rather than fly alone
past one more night of 
speeding blissful intercourse

touching, still, it leaves a
peculiar taste in my mouth

© Goode Guy 2011-10-04

a guy, alas, a true story.



four days later, i wake and 
find my cup in the kitchen.
a bit more savvy now
i dump the inch or so
left in the cup, in the sink

a dark form, forlorn, lies still
the winged jilted lover, 
i think, how  bittersweet,
that the third too, wished
to commit caffeinated suicide

now that the pot is hot and
a new day is possible

© Goode Guy 2011-10-08

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Horror Trail for Elaine George

Best friends, young carefree girls are walking down a dark, isolated eerie path, alone on a 
cool fall night. Owls screech, hearts skip a beat, time creeps and beast are howl, howl, 
howling. Senses heightened...night sounds roaring through my mind. Is it real or my 
imagination? Unknown foot steps slowly approaching over the dark hill, hearts beat, beat, 
beating erratic rhythm in my ears. 

Little legs frozen with fear, foot steps louder now, closer...approaching. Step, step, stepping 
over the dark trail. No help in sight...Girls scatter and hide in the dense forest while an 
apparition passes down the trail with a green, cloud, halo, hovering over head.

I feel a chill down my spine, a musky pungent odor rises in my nostrils as the ghoul passes. 
Quietly I hide behind a tree, breath caught in my throat, unable to speak or yell. Suddenly an 
icy hand touches my face and fear gives strength to my legs and away into the night... run, 
run, running straight into the safety of the family bonfire. Friends safe, fear forgotten.

For Elaine George's contest tell me a story-narrative

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Eye of the Storm

Eye of the Storm, It was there on a warm, muggy night. That of a dark but black cloud that linger across the sky to which I thought it was going be just another stormy night. There to which was a night the moon could be seen at a larger view. It was there on that night the moon was no where in sight. As I rode across the interstate it was almost as if you would have to dodge the lightning as it struck thousand times over. From cloud to ground it strikes of bright but that of half mile wide streaks in the night. I ride for miles in search of that storm of the night, hoping to bypass the lightning of the skies that strikes. With no rain fallen on the wind shield, I push that 80,000 in flight. Praying that I miss the storm of the night, for many miles had rolled off when I had crossed that Texas and Okalahoma line. When all a sudden it had started to fall, that of the rain begin to fall. The winds blow that to which was like a snow drift blow but that of rain drops instead of snow. It was there I held on tight as I had felt my gut say I was in for a ride. It was there I hit the eye of the storm as I was the only one in the storm. For many trucks had park but I dare the dark and it was there to which I had experienced the three tornadoes in the dark. That of the eye of the storm as I was lifted up by the storm. Oh yes, blowing me to the side as I gripped the wheel real tight. As I had felt it pick the 80 thousand twice I just knew this wasn’t my night. I just knew I was through for the night as I had thought I would be bottom side up in the eye. That to which was confirm was a sight of tornadoes to touch in form. That of the scariest time I had ever experienced in my life and time. That by which was the grace of God to which kept me safe by far because I thought for sure that I would be slam somewhere afar. But instead I punched through the other side, only to find more trucks parking on the side. And finding out that there were three tornadoes that had form as the lightning in the center wasn’t that of form but that of the eye of the storm. That of bright light in the middle of the storm as it was there I could not have seen because of the storm. But there to which I experienced the eye of the storm. And that of God’s grace as he had saved me from that of a fierce storm. But there was not only just another storm but the eye of the storm. That of tornadoes in form..

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When she returned back from Chicago
she wasn't quite the same woman,
She returned having dark secrets of her own
secrets that she's not revealing.
Her husband was back in Alabama
having the time of his life,
It was though he'd forgotten
that he even had a wife.
The old ball and chain was finally gone
he felt so footloose and fancy free,
But he dreaded the day that she came back home
he'd wished that she'd once again leave.
People seem to think everything's okay between them
considering in public they're always showing affection,
But the people don't know the true story about them
on their part it's just merely acting.
She just don't know that while she was away
he was fooling around with his ex,
And over in their home the ex did stay
playing the role of good wifey for a minute.
What he don't know is that while in Chicago
she'd found the man of her dreams,
And pretty soon she's making plans of returning back to Chicago
just to be once again with the man of her dreams.
Apparently, they're both keeping dark secrets
that either one doesn't want to know,
Eventually, in due time there's going to be a revealing
and over will be the charade and show.

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Leave This City

I danced with the hoodlum priestess, in the temple of the sacred pool.
The candles burned down low and jasmine incense from censors, filled the night.
While attendents at the altars, worried prayer beads and chanted sacred rhymes.
The daughters of the moon veiled their faces, and led me to the sea; the sea.

That night in the mighty City, after a day at the bizarre, I conveyed myself-
To the "Gates Of Cerdes" inn. Minstrels sang sagas by the fire; I lounged outside.
Dancing bears and mummers made merry in the courtyard 'neath starlight;
Against the city wall I sat and, sharpened my dagger upon a stone.

Patricians and visors rode King's high way, whores with tinkling bells walked alley-ways.
Any ragged beggar, with two teeth or more, fed on penny bowls of roasted rat.
There were vampires lurked among the trees and werewolves nestled in the eaves.
Spirits walked the earth in the dark and scattered flowers and, sang in the night.

The wine dark waters did roil and rumble, storm clouds boiled up in the sky.
Within the vault of night lovers did pluck and strum and stoke on lute strings;
Serenades and sonnets saluted vestigal virgins, abed in perfumed budiors.
And, this ancient City of enigma and riddle lay coiled, like a serpent wearing new skin.

Come away with me my love;
Steal away, journey with me.
We will cross the mystic mountains,
To fertile, verdant vales below.
All who knew will question "whence?"
The sinister City will never know

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The Torge

The blacksmith at his age-old forge,
Hammering in an arcane gorge,
His argent anvil overgrown with nettles,
Pounding celestial magic into arctic metals,
Creating the bladed blight, they call the Torge.

The infamous devil himself was at the door,
The carmine demon was evil to the core,
False wind billowed out the smith's brocade,
As the contorted blade was slowly made,
But then the vile devil took the floor.

The wretched smith turned swiftly to see,
What creature had entered so hatefully,
But the night lit with apocalyptic fire,
The smith's soul feeding hell's raging desire,
The devil lifted the weapon with courtesy.

The edge had been sharpened and was keen,
The blade extremely long straight, and lean,
Villiany was strong at this dark hour,
The blade simmered with the dark prince's power,
The demon's soul was abject and mean.

The Underworld gained a new weapon that night,
In preparation for the final divine fight.

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The Night of the Moon

It's the night of the moon
and though it's not in my sight.
The magic will be here soon.
The full moon takes the stage tonight.

I feel as low as the tide. 
The dark clouds set the tone.
Watching waves and sand collide.
I walk the beach all alone.

The clouds are fighting the sun.
They can't keep the bright light behind.
Sunset and beauty become one.
Doubt and hope crowd my mind.

Brilliant hues of orange,pink,and red
contrasting with clouds dark and gray
The sun paints a picture before bed
and then takes the painting away.

Splashing way out there in the sea.
Winking stars playfully laughing out loud.
I wonder,how this can be?
The night wont carry a cloud.

Where have all the clouds gone?
They've been plucked out of the sky.
The battle with the sun was been won.
I question not how, only why?

There's a bright glow in the west.
The curtain goes up for the show.
Dancing lights on the water are next.
Slowly rising the moon seems to grow.

Sometimes it's such a spiritual thing.
When nature reveals what it can truly do.
I can almost hear this moon sing.
So extravagant, it must be alive too.

My memory goes back to a time.
When the moon stole the show like this. 
I was with a girl that was so fine
and remembered that,that night we kissed.

But my memories are what had me down. 
I can't remember too many good.
There was the clouds at sundown
and suddenly I understood.

If I only kept good thoughts in my minds eye
and make all the bad ones just finish.
Maybe then my thoughts wont seem to magnify
what my memory can't seem to diminish.

Out with the bad thoughts in with the new. 
I'll fill my head with good memories only. 
But it seems that there are so few
that my thoughts might just get lonely.

That makes a smile come to my lips
and I wonder, did I just laugh out loud?
I watch enchanted as the moon slips
across the sky without a cloud.

My mood has changed I realize.
I knew I felt that pull.
Now I know hope never dies.
Hope lives in a moon this full.

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The Night Of The Cougar

As the rain gently plays a melodious tune on my old tin roof,
   And the peaceful sound of thunder like the sound of a thousand galloping 
It feels like a spring rain but it’s the wrong time of year, 
    The weather each year gets a little stranger is the normal talk you get around 
I put on my old slicker and traipse out the door,
     And head for the barn to check on the animals once more.
Everything seems to look pretty good as I figured it would,
    But something caught my eye as lightning flashed back in the woods.
The biggest old mountain lion I guess I’d ever seen,
     And the look in his old eyes told me this fellar was mean.
I was hoping I could make to the door before he comes tearin after me.
    Luck was on my side as I ran past the tree.
He just sat there a squalling and making the hair stand up on my neck.
    I knew it was a gonna be a fight cause this old cougar had no respect.
I felt his breath on my backside as he let out a roar.
     And the thunder clapped loudly as I made the front door.
Well he slammed up against the door with all of his might, 
    As I grab up my old rifle with no bullets in sight.
Then I remembered where I had put them as I ran to the drawer.
     He was still on my old porch but it was too dark by far.
Well I heard him a scratchin on my old wall, 
     So I let loose a shot just hoping that’s all.
This was a man killer and I was the man,
     He was a smart old critter and I think this was his plan.
After I shot it got deadly quite,
      Not a sound of a cricket not nothing just the silence of the night.
I wanted to go outside but it was just too dark for me to see.
     So I decided to just wait that would be the safest thing for me.
When daylight finally came around I cracked open the door,
    And there he lay dead, I’d shot him through the head guess he won’t be a 
bother no more.
Well sir I skinned him on out and tanned his old hide,
     And at the smallest place he was more’n four feet wide.

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The Ill-Fated Lighthouse

Author’s Introduction - A word about Minot’s Ledge Lighthouse: 

The Minot’s Ledge lighthouse, built 1850, lying off the southeastern chop of 
Boston Bay, was the first lighthouse built in the U. S. that was not protected by 
exposure to the fury of ocean storms. It was, then unfinished, in the shape of an 
egg-shell painted red and supported by iron pillars. The first keeper, Isaac 
Dunham, quit after 10 months citing how unsafe the structure was (swaying 2 
feet in each direction in a storm). His fears were well founded, for in April 1851, a 
colossal storm struck the New England coast. The lighthouse was toppled and 
swept away, and the two attendants, Joseph Antoine and Joseph Wilson, were 

The following day only a few bent pilings were found on the rock. This tragedy set 
the standard for the construction of more solid structures using granite blocks for 
greater support and a new light was built by June, 1860. 

To this day, legend has it, that in dark and stormy weather, sailors hear a voice 
coming from Minot’s Light crying in Portuguese (the nationality of one of the 
deceased keepers – Joseph Antoine) – “Stay away!” 

The Ill-Fated Lighthouse 

The towering light that threw 
Its friendly beams afar 
Over the foaming waves, 
The sailor’s guiding star, 
Is quench’d – and darkness glooms 
Where late it bless’d his sight, 
As homeward bound he came 
In the dark hour of night. 

The thundering surges swept 
Over the rocky bed, 
From which the lighthouse rear’d 
Aloft its flaming head. 
And lo! They bore away 
In that mad fearful hour, 
The work that man had made – 
The tempest’s rightful dower 

And yet a richer freight 
The heaving billows bore, 
Than wreck of perished Light! 
For tossing to the shore 
The drench’d and lifeless forms 
Of youthful dead there were, 
Two brave and manly hearts 
That sadly perish’d there! 

Farewell ye faithful ones! 
Your memory shall live, 
While feeling hearts remain, 
Pity’s sweet drops to give, 
Or any to recount 
The terrors of that night, 
When the drear sea engulf’d 
The hapless beacon light. 

And you, ye rushing waves! 
Sweep – foaming, sweep along, 
And ever as ye go, 
Lift high your noisy song; 
For thou, remorseless sea! 
Maketh all things thine own! 
Then send aloft your tune, 
And madly thunder on. 

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When she returned back from Chicago
she wasn't quite the same woman,
She returned having dark secrets of her own
secrets that she's not revealing.
Her husband was back in Alabama
having the time of his life,
It was though he'd forgotten
that he even had a wife.
The old ball and chain was finally gone
he felt so footloose and fancy free,
But he dreaded the day that she came back home
he'd wished that she'd once again leave.
People seem to think everything's okay between them
considering in public they're always showing affection,
But the people don't know the true story about them
on their part it's just merely acting.
She just don't know that while she was away
he was fooling around with his ex,
And over in their home the ex did stay
playing the role of good wifey for a minute.
What he don't know is that while in Chicago
she'd found the man of her dreams,
And pretty soon she's making plans of returning back to Chicago
just to be once again with the man of her dreams.
Apparently, they're both keeping dark secrets
that either one doesn't want to know,
Eventually, in due time there's going to be a revealing
and over will be the charade and show.

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A girl

A girl is an the dark in dont know what to do but all to do is cry an keep trying to pray . For some body to help an to understand what she been threw she only 16 years old in she preagant she all alone for help so she just yelp.But no body is there to help or even hear her everybody thing she a joke they thing what she had done is stupid and a mistake in for that no body wants to help not even family or even close friends so all she do is cry and try and yelp for help but no body want even dare to come near so she all an the dark alone .

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To Write the Words of Love

i CRAVE sweet dark night
   (we use the nights)
for daylight
  daylight betrays SUFFERING eyes
   (to hide the bruises)
                PALE KISSED SKIN
(the blood)

lathered in angry red
     (the tears)

"My Love?"
       (the GOODBYES)

(the secrets)
i CRAVE sweet dark blood

(and lies, lies lies lies)

for it gives
             to morning.
(and the words the blade left behind)

"We have forever"
         (buried deep inside your mind)
Leaving you wishing that you 
"or so we thought."

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I Walked with the Reaper

One night I awoke to a dream
A figure of prominent terror hovered 
Over my bed and asked me
If I’d travel with him 
I joined him though my skin crawled
At every breath he heaved
Raspy and gurgling behind his dark tattered cloak.

I dared not look at him for fear he’d look back
Crippled over and cracking with every step.
I walked with him to a field
Laden with even laid stones
No names, just the stones.

He stood in a painful position I thought
And I wondered why he lingered at this spot
“Torment knows no names,” he said
And rose upright so high that it startled me
And my core felt penetrated as if frozen in ice

He was the Reaper I thought, 
He’s come for me.
He then lowered back down, and silence,
More hallowed then death itself,
Haunted my thoughts.

‘I’ve walked this road alone each night
For as long as I can remember,” he echoed
“You’re the first to come with me.”
I felt a sort of strange pity come over me
And I placed my hand on his shoulder
As we stood in the dark shadows.

Suddenly the sound of distant voices circled my head
Beautiful voices singing from a brilliant light.
“the dead don’t walk with the dead,” he said softly
“the Living do.”
As he finished his words, his cloak fell flat
And he was gone. A pile of rotting black cloth remained.

I awoke to a woman who was hollering out
“My child, I nearly hit you!”
I was standing in the night air
In the middle of a covered bridge.
The headlights so bright I couldn’t see past them.
She wrapped her coat around me and
Walked me to her car.
The coat she wrapped me in

Was a black cloak.

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Spring Cleaning

  I'm so sorry about what happened
can you hand me one of thse garbage bags
full of that winter?
I'm a lot stronger than you dear and I don't mind 
the smell.
why didn't you tell?
now he's dead and I can't do anything
would I have?
well I don't know
It would have really
caused a lot of trouble wouldn't it.
Let's just take these out to the curb
and it will all be taken away.
watch out  don't drip any of that 
on your brother
you know he has a weak stomach
look it's dark,so dark outside
too dark for this
let's take these back up to your room
just for now
you know we can put them in your 
Hope chest until the garbage runs next week
take out those old dolls and teddy bears
you're too old for that stuff now anyway
aren't you dear.
you should not have kept so muchof this
for such a long time
that's why it smells so bad
it's your own fault after all,isn't it dear.

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Gone, As With the Wind

It was dark and cold as he wandered the streets of Chicago
Strangers were the only people he saw, he had no friends
Searching nightly, he had never found her, the one he sought
He needed to find her, for without her, his destiny ends

Strangers were the only people he saw, he had no friends
He was new to the city, but felt welcomed, when their eyes met
Two in a crowd, for a moment, they shared a glance
A face of an angel, truly a face he would never forget

Searching nightly, he had never found her, the one he sought
For she wandered in to the crowd and was lost then from view
He ran, he stopped, he started again, searching everywhere
Until, as the sun had gone down, his spirit did, too

He needed to find her, for without her, his destiny ends
He feels in his heart, that the two of them were destined to be
Alas, he could not find her, in this big cold dark windy place
But he would never stop trying, else his heart shan’t be free