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On Writing And Words Death Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Death

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Details | Haiku | |

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

Now my tendrilled soul,
Has found its pergola-- Christ--
To wind its way up....


Details | Free verse | |

Poetry Assignment

It was “Death” you drew.
You rolled that slip of paper
between your fingers 
thin as onionskin, 
and dropped it in your pocket.
Pastel lady, 

did you wish to spare 
us? You fluttered fingers 
over the basket, and drew out 
“Patio Party,” 
a subject we must address 
before we meet again.

How many great poems 
have been penned on Death? 
How many on a
Patio Party?


Details | Bio | |

Maurice Glenn Turner and Randy Thompson: Fallen Heroes

Glenn Turner and Randall "Randy" Thompson were the best police officer and volunteer firefighter in all of Cobb County, Georgia, until March 1995 (WWF Monday Night Raw and WWF Wrestle-Mania XI) and January 2001 (Raw Is War, WWF SmackDown!, and the WWF Royal Rumble) when their lives were taken away from their loving families by Julia Lynn Womack: aka the "Black Poisoning Widow." It seems that it was these two guys in uniform who married the same woman, especially when she was after their money, totaling hundreds and thousands of dollars, even in life insurance. Glenn and Randy have been killed by a deadly liquid by the form of Etheline Glycol rich antifreeze; Lynn Turner used it to spike that of lime-flavored gelatin (green Jell-O), sweet iced tea, and chicken noodle soup. Now, how cold-blooded was that? But to be honest, Maurice G. Turner and Randy Thompson, God rest their souls, really never should've met this gold digging assassin named Julia Lynn Womack (who's now dead) to begin with. Their families, their colleagues, and the citizens of Cobb County, Georgia, they still don't understand why the lives of these two men have to end in a tragic manner. They've got a bunch of whole lives ahead of them. But now that Lynn Turner, who killed both her police officer husband and her firefighter boyfriend, is dead, she can't hurt anyone else ever again. Randall and Glenn are no longer with their friends and families (including their moms), but their spirits will live on forever and they'll see their loved ones in heaven one day. And as for Julia Lynn Womack-Turner, she got what was coming to her and may she burn in the giant pit of inferno for all eternity.


Details | Elegy | |

His Legacy

Up into the sky 
he soared 
like an Angel

With us 
down here-- 
at Soupland, watching him as he soared 
like an Angel;

So gentle… 
and brave 
he was,
a strong love he had, sharing it till the end, yet

His breath
could not resist the resounding call 
of Heaven 
and he left, 

Leaving us his poetry, for 
when great storms come in, his laughter 
will dry our tears like rain.


--

for Tom Bell, a great poet who taught us all-- 
to laugh and to smile…to learn… and to give.    


Details | Blank verse | |

Love Song

Here’s what I’m thinking now 
at the end of the world: 

There are no atheists in foxholes— 
no theists in politics. 
If knowledge is power, 
and power corrupts, 
then why did I bother reading you, Cicero? 

Does it matter that I didn't’t love you? 
Would it have mattered if I did? 

There’s a poetry reading tonight 
whence I’I'll chide other poets 
who don’t sit alone. 
I won’t bring up death 
but I might have to breathe, 
even into a mike 
and mouth lines to get a snap or a boo 
maybe even a wince or two. 

Just maybe I’I'll talk about love 
and how following your heart is like following a dog— 
it only leads to vittles and (female dogs). 
But how many times have I used that line 
since the story I wrote about you, 
a witty and sexy and fictional you? 
Most likely I’I'll read something tonight about you. 

I won’t recite it from memory 
because I don’t think about you that much anymore, 
not even when I search for my socks in your drawer 
or when I put on the scratchy sweaters you give me, 
horizontally striped to bring out my eyes? 

I don’t remember your eyes 
except they are blue. 
And I don’t remember you, 
not even when I smell cucumber and apple, 
not even when I sleep on my side of the bed 
or when you walk through the door 
happy to see me; 
even then I don’t remember you. 
Does it matter that I don’t love you? 
Would it have mattered if I did? 

How about a few one-liners 
for the end of days?— 

Depression is self-awareness, 
which you’d know if you were; 
I need Ritalin to listen to you, 
Lithium to hug you, 
Viagra to feel you, 
and Valium to sleep. 

All you need 
is me standing there, waiting at home 
with turns of phrase and word plays 
telling you about why I hate Ayn Rand 
but want to buy as much as I can 
and how I love celebrity gossip 
and detest poetry slams 
and find rhyming trite 
except when I am. 

Hypocrites can still be right, 
which you do understand 
because you nod at my nonsense 
about fighting the man. 

But now, at the end of all things— 
I’m speechless and witless and pointlessly well-read, 
and you’re just sitting there, smiling 
asking me to pass the bread.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Day the Rhyme Died

I know I may be kidding myself,
many see it as absurd.
But just because they think that way...
does it kill the written word?
Should I not write in rhyme,
Because it's no longer formal?
When did expression through the art of words,
become so strict and normal?
If the melody has died,
and the ancient bards subside...
then I shall mourn the loss of beauty,
that has receded into the tide.


Details | Free verse | |

Sweet Sweet Emily

I was born in Amhurst Massachuetts
on Decenber 10  1830 
and had died May 15  1886

My hair is bold like the chestnut burr
and my eyes like the sherry in the glass
that the guest leaves behind

I cannot write about the world without
first backing away from it and then
comtemplating it from a distance

A word is dead when it is said
Some say I say it just begins
To live that day 


Who Am I ?


My Poetess Sweet
Emily Dickinson


Details | Free verse | |

From beyond the Grave

Your hands would just reach up 
And control my life 
Your eyes would open wide 
And rip open through my spine 
You would stir awake in your casket 
If only you could 
Your vengeance would never cease 
And you would rule the world 
From beyond the grave. 

Your will would just drive everyone away 
And I would be alone 
Your words would be heard by all 
And none would hear mine 
You would wake from the dead 
If only you could 
Your vengeance would never cease 
And you would rule the world 
From beyond the grave 

Your desires would stir the restless 
And they would do your bidding 
Your arms would open up wide 
And prepare to embrace the sky 
For you would rise to this occasion 
If only you would 
Your vengeance would never cease 
And you would rule the world 
From beyond the grave. 


Details | Verse | |

Ding Dong The Wicked Witch is Dead

Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Thatcher’s dead.

Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Thatcher’s dead.

Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Thatcher’s dead.

Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Thatcher’s dead.


Details | Epitaph | |

Silly Epitaph 9

Here lies a man who had no name.
There was a funeral; Nobody came.
No one cried, and None was blamed
Only three men attended; what a shame.


Details | Bio | |

Jessica McCord: Selfish Assassin

It was February 2002 (WWF Raw, WWF SmackDown!, and WWF No Way Out), that Jessica McCord and her then-husband, Jeff, killed Alan Bates and his new wife, Terra. Before their deaths, Alan "A.B." was in a custody battle against his ex-wife to have determined who'll have gotten full custody of their two daughters (born in 1990 and '92). The custody hearing might have taken place in November 2001 (WWF Raw, WWF SmackDown!, WWF Rebellion, and WWF Survivor Series), but not until December 2001 (WWF Raw, WWF SmackDown!, and WWF Vengeance), when the lady had spent that time in jail for skipping custody hearings more than twice. It seems that Jessica had disapproved of both of her daughters having the late Terra for their step-mother. the only two things that describes Jessica McCord are selfish and a coward. She selfishly pulled both of her daughters out of their respective schools, she hid them away so that her late ex-husband couldn't gain full access to them, and/or whatever. So, the fact that Jessica McCord had used her own daughters as a pair of pawns as if she's been playing a game of chess had made the late Mr. Bates, the attorneys, and Birmingham Police officers of Birmingham, Alabama, very sick. The lady, Jessica, was afraid that the judge would grant Alan and his new wife, Terra, full custody of the girls, so she and Jeff killed them; thereby dumping both of their bodies in a burned-down car outside Atlanta, Georgia (aka Hotlanta, aka Dirty South, and aka ATL). Jessica McCord may have tried to label her late ex-husband as a bad guy, but no one bought it, not even her in-laws, the prosecutors, and the judge. She knew that she and her husband were going to get caught; they knew it. And where is Jessica McCord as of February 2003 (WWE Raw, WWE SmackDown!, and WWE No Way Out/World Wrestling Entertainment's first 'No Way Out' pay-per-view event, ever)? She's in prison, along with her then-loser husband, Jeff McCord, serving a life sentence in prison with no possibility of parole. Ms. McCord should've gotten the death penalty, but that's the way the law works. And as far as the Bates family, the entire community of Birmingham, and the two daughters are concerned, prison is exactly where they belong. Well, it looks like the ghosts of Alan and Terra Bates will be haunting the two-then McCords for life. Let's hope that the Bates sisters don't suffer the same fate their father and step-mother did. And if I see the Bates sisters in person, there's just no telling.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

A Dark Fairy-tale

A Dark Fairytale

As I was chained, I breathe in.
As I was burned, I breathe out.
As I was cut, I looked down.
As I was broken, I looked up.
As I was destroyed, I closed away.
I had killed myself damaging beyond any repair.
To keep myself closed I chain, cut, burned, and destroyed what was within me, isolation my fear around me. But suddenly as I had nearly been kindled to a shivering light, something braver and stronger then I appeared and took me and held me and once again I was fixed and this is what happened; 
Suddenly I breathed in as I was unchained.
Suddenly I breathed out as my burns disappeared.
Suddenly I looked up as my broken body mended.
Suddenly I looked down as my cuts faded.
Suddenly I was opened up and my destruction was nothing more then a dream
As my knight, you entered that shadow and held me now I grow with a unprofaned radiance.
I was held once more, and my soul emerged.
I was spoken to once more, and my mind went blank.
I was kissed and my body reacted without a second hesitation.
And before I could run away once more, I was trapped.
Unlike my prison I lived in a fairytale, in were I don’t want to live this place anytime soon. What happened then and what happening now are so fair apart it hilarious.
 I’ve forgiven the past, not forgotten it. Prove never to make the same mistakes or else be locked back inside that tower I call my mind. 
Let me in brave knight, into your mysterious ways.
Let me in brave knight let me have secret passages into that world of yours. 
Let me in brave knight so I can truly capture you. 
I was as cold as ice even more then winters hail, but you with a ridged past that icier then I could have imagined is as warm as the summer sun and sweet like spring air.
For saving me, for taking my heart, for releasing me, I’ll become everything you want and then more, I’ll stand by your side and hold you like you held me and I shall be everything you need.
My sweet Knight.







Details | Epitaph | |

Silly Epitaph 11

Here lies the golfer,
Richard P. Shore.
He expired at 5
'Cause he didn't yell "fore."


Details | Concrete | |

Silent Cries

Im look happy on the outs but Im sad deep inside. 
I know none of ya'll mother ****ers gonna see my silent hidden cries. 
Death's right around the corner so if I die I die with honor not pride. 
In this life of mine everyday is a do or ****ing die. 
Here in the land of OZ you face the truth even if it's a ****ing lie. 
Here you either do or you don't, ain't no such thing as giving it a try. 
Here fantasy ain't *****once the truth hits you finally realize. 
I was once a young lost soul trying to fit in and be just another one of the "guys".
 Smoking weed getting drunk feeling so dam low while getting so dam high. 
Flying so dam low at the same time walking so dam high Im fly. 
I know not one person here can understand or know my hidden cries. 
The only one who can truly understand me is the one who I pray to in the sky. 
I know I look happy but I feel like *****from side to side, 
I need to better understand my own silent cries......


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Self-Portrait of Life


As I draw my eyes I think about what I have seen, what I have witnessed, what I have turned my eyes away from with but a blind stare, and all those special moments I missed that done passed and gone, but above all I think about what I have yet to see when I die.
 As I draw my face and hair I think about I think about how the "Great One Above" has made me what color skin that I am and how he has shaped my attitude into what my life has become and what society and environment I was placed and grew up in around which culture or cultures I have become or unknowingly integrated.
 As I draw my ears I think about what I have heard, what I am still hearing and what I choose not to hear among the many noises surrounded within ones hearing, but above all I think about what death has sounded like not in just one but many different loud but yet still very silent noises around one.
 As I draw my body I think about what my body has endured, what it has failed to do so many times but also what it has finally conquered and still yet to conquer in a world of complete competition with sports so violent and unforgiving for winning does not forgive losers in a world striving to be winners.
 As I draw my hands I think about how they have created so much but also trying not to think about how much they too have destroyed. I think about how I can easily create bad more than the good like an addiction that cannot be stopped among an addicted world full of fiends waiting to get their fix….but above all as I draw these words of life I think about how the heck I am still here today writing about it…..how I am still here enduring it and how I am still here even to share it…Thank You “Great One Above”…..


Details | Alliteration | |

Our Very Own Lies

I can see the truth clearly now, and the truth is we live in a world where almost everything is shaded to a lie. (We act as if we are someone else and just can’t be what we want to be.)
 Truth remains strong that our very own fables cover our very own two eyes. (We only choose to see what we want to see.)
 Only fibs and tall tales are left on the local store corner….for they the only things left on the shelf that we can buy. (Many Profound Truths remain imprisoned while too many lies are out there living free.)
 I look at the ground because I can’t look at the sky; I laugh more with death rather than crying with life. (Shakespeare once said “To be or not to be” but I say F%$k trying “To be” because I’d rather “Just BE”.)
 Living amongst a world of shaded illusions upon the mind eye, upon which we have many wrongs more than our rights, yeah I know we all want peace but yet we still choose to fight. (We long for death but fear it; we want to go away but don’t know what will happen when we leave our loved ones with certain grief stolen away in the night by death like a thief.)
 So why is it so many of us continue to stare at our everyday truths as if we are blind, as if we cannot see our own struggle through our very own lies……..


Details | Ballad | |

Im Gone

Life as a lonely lost poet bred from dark cracks 
Lost soul living plain and simple among the people black and white 
Drug along with alcoholic among us distracts 
Lost values and principles around one many continue to lack 
Everyday simple facts, its like breathing through plastic sacks 
Slowly suffercating until the brain goes wack 
Once death comes my way I must keep it part of my past 
Aint no way God going to bring my little brother back 
I guess its a curse upon all those of us living like outlaw of an outcast 
How the **** will I ever truly outlast until I heal and break out my cast 
God cant you see Im tired of wearing this permanent mask 
I know my poetry has hidden answers if I look and read closer so I shouldnt have to ask
 Staying lost is a choice in the open road with no gas 
So as a lost poet through hardships now and in the future I will outgrow it 
The devil trying to get my soul and behold it 
but I know only this one man controls it 
Its too priceless for even my own greed to have sold it 
So as a lost poet I will climber higher than high if not then right below it 
Found in a world of lies with few truths as but another lost poet


Details | Alliteration | |

We Beat Until We Battered

We sometimes drink and smoke so much We get beat until we are battered 
Our dreams were like one giant wall of glass where upon they were destined to be shattered
 Broken in a heap of glass we now stay occupied where lost souls continue to gather
 Dark yet so desolate living amongst those were nothing in life but a quick death seems to matter
 It seems as if the harder we try the more below we get needing somekind of ladder
 All I hear are silent screams among gossiping chit chatter 
Our truth is getting skinnier while our lies are well fed by the way the are getting fatter
 Crying souls overcome those that are filled with laughter 
The clock for many of us gets slow but our life train to death only gets faster 
Many of us which remain lost in addiction looking for a positive leader, a mentor, some kind of master
 
But when shyt hits the fan we must remain strong even if we just lost someone close and are feeling sadder
 If life is to throw us those curveballs in a the ring then its time stop mr nice guy and get badder
 You must endure the shyt that you got to endure even if it gets your hands and feet a little tathered
 Life can and will get you drunk so handle your drink or let it bring you down until you can no longer stagger
 You must tell yourself **** them and everybody else because you still got skill even if you aint got swagger
 Just tell yourself "**** they judgements" because you know in your own eyes you still look sharper than a dagger
 SO QUIT ACTING LIKE YOU AINT NEVER BEEN MENTALLY BEAT UNTIL YOUR PERSONALITY WAS BATTERED.....BECUASE IT WHAT YOU MAKE IT IN THE END THAT TRULY MATTERS!!!!!


Details | Ballad | |

A Little Crazy

My poetry is normally thought provoking that its insane 
Word rhyming that can rip up the direct thought line in the brain 
Words so hard they concrete steel bars locking on the mind with chains 
Words bleeding that they mentally leave thought with stains 
Writing my life away before I die in a world with no change 
I take *****in poetry so serious its my only range of life written about our past experienced death pains
 We all going to die someday in someway so we best look for someway in this some kind of day before you lay your head down as you pray past this darkness looking at the sky gray so please Lord help me do something the people can face with the uttermost respect regardless of gender sex or race
 because someday we all going to go A Little Crazy in this crazy place.......


Details | Acrostic | |

Lost In Thought

Now who would of thought the thoughts that would truly get the mind lost in fragile thought?
 So much on our known life, 
about unknown death when we laugh at others but at ourselves we really cry, 
in our very own hidden truth lies, 
amongst our own poeple who we defy, 
until we fight, 
for wrongs for personal rights, 
**** the darkness is what make us appreciate the light, 
I dont talk the talk nor do I walk the walk because I walk my talk while I swagger and swerve im my talks through these walks,
 Life can get so messy with death that its time for those of us here to grab the broom so God can mop,
 I live life to the fullest with what little I have because I dont have a lot, 
I live life shitty sometimes like almost everyone else like it or not, 
Im not special Im so unique Im individual with word talent I know I got, 
I know what I dont have so its important more knowledge among me is sought, 
I can be wrong half the time but can still make it 100% right I was self-taught among a young soul that seems to be bought,
 I got a bad limp but dont get me wrong I can still gallup through darkness while I jog lost in the early morning fog waiting to be patiently found in the midnight lounge where I trot,
 Truly lost so easily in profound hard thoughts litterally running from the cops waiting to duck and dodge from open gunshots,
 Bodies and shells drop where caskets are made among a dying crop, 
I can still make a splatter where there was just but a tiny dot, 
I used to have merely nothing now atleast I can truly say I have a safe spot, 
I was found looking for truth in lies lost in thought....


Details | Rhyme | |

The Dark Poet

He sits and watches patiently
Craving some emotion
To drive his mind to find some words and
Put his thoughts in motion

So sick and tired of pretty verse
Of butterflies and flowers
Those lovely poets he must destroy 
Tear down their ivory towers

His gruesome game continues
For he is not alone
He shifts a little closer 
To hear his victim moan

His inspiration gathers
As their life begins to ebb
Now he's looking for another
To tangle in his web


The Dark Poet 
Competition entry
(Honourable Mention)


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Death Of A Believer

        DEATH OF A BELIEVER
The death of soul steals slowly through the years
the fog of mind that's never known to be;
brought on by laughter, love, and hate and tears
the fate of all that few can ever see.

It brings the withering of life, and all its leaves,
once green and shining in the morning sun,
now setting on it all, in evening grieves
for lack of interest in what life has done.

Compassion leaves the mind, once fired and prime
and old and tired now beats the heart we knew
life now mundaned by passing of all time,
there's nothing left the heart would like to do.

     Old man, you're numbered to your final breath
      and no one cares for all your sweat and tears,
    your rest is not until it's done in death,
      but keep the faith in what you've done for years.
            © ron wilson


Details | Acrostic | |

Everytime I Look Around The Corner

I live a life in a place where alcohol violence reigns supreme/ 
over a dying culture split in se7en groups of se7enty times se7en of rival teams/
 I hear my brothers hollers I hear my sisters screams/ 
I see people live among broken glass like that of many broken dreams/
 I sometimes wish I could not see what my two eyes sometimes see/ 
I cant act blind as if it were just a brush off my sleeve/
 The more I lose in life the more it seems the less I need/
 I try and overcome my own selfish greed/ 
I got a child on the way I now look at what kind of role model I'd be/ 
I was was incarcerated so I must not take for granted for the simple fact that Im free/
 But it hard with tattoos on my face in place where tattoos like mine seem a disgrace/
 Lord watch over me as I take last place in this life game race/ 
It not a matter of being first second or third Lord cuz all I need iz your grace/
 help me to better walk off this destructive road and slow my pace/ 
Just take me now if Im done with your purpose if thats the case/
Because I dont want to live like I got to look over my shoulder right around the corner....


Details | Free verse | |

Posthumously

Destiny
Sordid, shoddy succubus
Culled consciousness
Mottled, beguiled muse
Hungry for hope
An eruption of erudition 
To be showered with praise
Cleansed pride
Chloroformed strife 

Where dreams tease unkempt hair
And eulogize tear stained verse
Sacrificed on stripped oak altars
Trembling hostages of insatiable sermons 
Sterile sunrises
Mourned by cramped, fertile fingers
I pray to my paranoia of invasion

Voices
Viscid footsteps
Shadows of salvation 
Which pass without query
Again
Chortling echoes of obtuse obituaries
As I lie shackled to tomes of obscurity
Tortured
Starving
Undiscovered 
Dead


Details | Clerihew | |

My constant mirror

My constant mirror from heaven, 
On earth and in the sea,
Only you can be;
But can you see yourself in my poetry? 


Details | Free verse | |

Reflections: Intellectualism

To Dine, To Die;
Conversations spiral
While thunderous eyes
Grasp concepts to recycle.

Constant debt crisis
A political paradox
Grating social devices
Over the sorting of socks.

Pseudo-analysis
An endless groan
Argumental paralysis
The debate grants no throne.

Existentialism
Over a roast
Potatoes won't listen
To who talks the most.

"That point is so interesting"
The floor is open for chat
"What is real?" not a thing
"Meow" adds the cat.


Details | Elegy | |

Rest in Peace

Nobody needs an elegy,
we want release;
grief that comes 
through words and
the grit of teeth

to teach ourselves 
to love the dead,
remembering,
only holy deeds.
happy fragments

Rest in Peace.


Details | Rhyme royal | |

' THE SCRIPT '

================================================ ~*~ wreathing this life's mind's eye - wrenched, gnarled, hit, burked neurons in diminution - clashed, rammed, slayed futility tops up canvass of murk phonemes, words, phrases now frolicly played heart's lyrical requiem overlaid poesy - penned, written in woe death's crypt shrieking the LIMITLESS lines of my SCRIPT. ~*~ ========================================================== *-* jun-jun villanueva *-* " RHYME ROYAL " contest


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Suicidal Voodoo

Chase the voodoo to sleep. sleepless freaks i see in the silver screens blocking the vision of me. there's no choice but to eliminate hate inundating the mind. please mute the voices haunting the airwaves making me blind. the big bad budding burden flashing red lights at every intersection. stealing away the insight i try to gain by using time for reflection.

It's a mess the way i test myself with deranged prophecies and bleak scenarios. replaying horror flicks in my head. blasting screams in stereo. all too often the worm hole shoots me to a mid evil castle of torturous devices. impaled in dreams that seem to be broadcasting punishment for succumbing to the world's entice and vices. but other times i fall victim to a good old fashioned "day-mare". people notice the self conversations and can't help but laugh and stare. I must say it's becoming difficult to blame them. if i can't learn to shake this voodoo, it's true my future's looking grim.

What do I do? they're gonna end up arresting me! Toss my ass in a padded room and throw away the key! and get this...as i worry about getting sent away, the paranoia increases inside my head. i reach for medication increasing odds of ending up prematurely dead. I may be crazy, but don't take me for an idiot fool. and don't haze me about where my faith is, cus' this could just as soon be you. and i've learned enough to know that each and every one of us will die. and you may take me as insane, but me not taking my own life's got nothing to do with having a fear to fry. 

This is exactly why i choose to write as my mind fills up with crazy thoughts and throws fits. it's a therapy for me to try and work out all the kinks that make me sink, instead of cowardly throwin' in the towel n' calling it quits.


Details | I do not know? | |

Child's Last Light - Holocaust Child

Salt soaked eyelids sagging
Unceasing streams of liquid
Tears stained the silk face
Painting the terrors of the day

Hush my child, I'll sing you a lullaby
Caressing you with the heavenly chorus
The ground does not desire anymore sorrow
But the stars crave your twinkle

Steadily, curtains of skin descend
Masking the pain etched into the eyes
Lips tremble, uneasy slumber
No more teddies, no more light

Hush, I'll bathe your dreams in white
Let the skin slide from your shoulders
Ease the suffering of physical wounds
I'll mend your broken winged heart to fly.

Tranquility overtakes the mind
Scattered breaths steady to an even beat
A rare peacefulness discovered
Yet the burning sun shall overtake the night

Hush, I'll cradle your bare heart
And fly you to the heaven of stars
Laugh as though you've never uttered a breath
For this shall not last

The morning blaze arises chasing the night
Ashes of humans piled up into mounds
The remains of dreams and lives broken
And one little child

Hush, my child Hush.


Details | I do not know? | |

That Place

A birth ends, another begins.

All is remembered, all is forgotten.


From struggle to splendour, from feeble to forever.

All is remembered, all is forgotten.


Will we learn today

From all whom have, the path, lay.

Will we turn the clocks of yesterday

And have it another way.


To learn to forget,

To learn to remember.

To strive only for That Place,

Where all is remembered, all is forgotten.



(In memory of R. R., 1986-2009)


Details | Imagism | |

Embrace

They ride the good dragon-cloud towards warm light
While wistful wind was a wrongdoer on the hollow hill
Wrapped woven from the wounds and wrath`s night, 
The wood will wear white woolly witness of the windmill.

Hoarfrost hitch-hikes and hoists with hoarse hood,
Drumming beat of hobble of the army`s fatal feet,
Far away from the glow-worms of their childhood;
Friends fumble the glassware where they might meet.

Falteringly frogs of fancy jump towards the lake’s glass; 
Orphan souls sit on the steps of hope in winter`s time
They scrutinize the frozen sky of hope to find the rhyme 
Of the verse from the other side they want to happily pass.


Details | Couplet | |

Flying With The Birds

If I were to believe in you, would you believe in me?
If everything that I promised you actually came to be

If I were a beautiful rainbow, a reflection in the sky
Formed by the rays of light as your tears you cried

Sweetheart I am just a simple man with a complex plight
My blessing is you’re here with me, as this quest I fight

Sweetheart you know I’m a warrior, though I live like a ghost
I fight and write living my plight, inside the belly of the host

From shore to shore, a forever war, that will never end
Just today I got the word the host has taken another friend

Another soul another goal of course another wasted life
God I am a lucky man to have become one with my wife

Pains insane it shreds my brain and tears my heart into
I’m left here asking myself, “Was there anything I could do”

I have to write a eulogy though I just don’t know what to say
Here is a soul, another hole, for someone who lost his way 

Sobriety is really great but at times it is truly rather hard
You watch them take another friend and plant him in the yard

Another smoke, another joke another party has reached its end
Here I sit in a spiritual pit feeling totally lost about my friend

I hope someday someone reads what I say, takes another course
Pass on doing that shot, love it or not, death upon the black tar horse

So I shall write my Eulogy falling to pieces about my friend
Who made fun of the man I turned out to be, until the very end

But that’s ok it was just his way, right up until the day he died
The one true light shinning bright, lives inside of you and I

So will all of you join with me let your spirits pen my words
About a beautiful soul, who found his goal, flying with the birds


------------------------------------------------------------------
Very few people in this life that I love enough to let make fun
of the changes I made in my life. Addiction (The Host) took 6
friends in 2007, 5 in 2008 and this is the first in 2009. He didn't
overdose he was shot a couple of days ago in Chico, Ca during
a home invasion robbery over his heroin debt. I used to always
pay his debts when it reached this point with bags of Meth. This
time I couldn't go there for him and now he is dead. This is my
life, my gift and my curse. God Bless you all, mj


Details | Free verse | |

Lasting Freedom

In the beginning I started off as just another nobody from another nowhere trying make it to somewhere as a somebody as everyone else. In the beginning I was BORN TO LIVE TO DIE, but in the process I was BRED TO LEARN TO SURVIVE. I became a CONVICT OF CHRIST through PAINFUL PLEASURES of my many struggles and strife's. I was a SINFUL SAINT but more of a sinner, mainly a loser and never a winner. I was once considered one of the best, now days I'm just trying to be lower than the rest, unseen in plain sight , NOTHING MORE NOTHING LESS. I became lost in time through my many self-taught TRUE LIES of yet another LOST FIND growing up where few DREAMS LIVE , but many more DREAMS DIE. I soon got LOCKED UP but it was very educational because I LIVED IT and LEARNED FROM IT. I was given a choice to LIVE FREE OR DIE INCARCERATED, so I made that choice to be more loved than hated, so I became UNDER LOVE and OVER HATE, I learned to stop wanting and actually appreciate. Its been hard to change so I became a POET OF PAIN. That's when I learned the truth about those who think their dying for something but they might as well be living for nothing, because I learned that real truth comes from LIVING FOR SOMETHING because I ain't DYING FOR NOTHING. So now I am forever a W.O.L.F. once a warrior of lost freedom now trying to stay a warrior of LASTIN FREEDOM you know what I mean.


Details | Verse | |

Blood Wars

(Chance Operations)

Twenty long contemptuous years;
A myriad of monarchies 
Bargained wickedly …
Bloody warriors ~
In crimson swells;
Soured proprietary wealth…




Details | Rhyme | |

I Write With My Heart

Beautiful flowers greeted the sun 
as I watched the little children run
Inspired by the warmth of the day
I wrote the first lines along the way

Failing my test in Trigonometry 
I wept under the shade of a tree
Realizing what made it wrong
I finished the first stanza and sang a song

Sailing paper boats along the river
People waited as the cold air made them quiver
I felt their hopes, dreams, and sorrows
I wrote the last lines full of morose

I saw an ambulance in front of our door
I felt my heart trembled in sore
They carried a stretcher...a body covered with white
I stared at those starry stars, and I, continued to write


Details | I do not know? | |

REST IN PEACE MUM ANN BROWN 18 AUG 2011

MUM ...

WHERE DO I START? I DON'T THINK THERE IS WORDS , TO EXPLAIN HOW I AM 


FEELING ABOUT THE LOSS OF YOU... BUT I WILL USE ALL THE STRENGTH YOU HAVE 


GIVEN TO ME , SO I CAN GET THESE FINAL WORDS OUT THE GUILT , SADNESS AND 

REGRET  FROM NOT SEEING YOU LIKE I WANTED TO  SO ****ING MUCH ,

 THEN THE PAIN OF NOT HAVING  A CHANCE TO SAY "GOODBYE" TO THE MOST 

BEAUTIFUL MOTHER COULD WANT, AND YES MUM I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUTO HOLD 

YOUR HAND, TO SEE YOU SMILE , TO HEAR YOUR VOICE, WOULD MAKE MY LIFE MORE 

WORTHWHILE. YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO LIVE, BUT YOU NEVER TAUGHT ME HOW TO 

LIVE WITHOUT YOU I MISS YOU SO SO MUCH MUM, BUT THE LOVE IN MY HEART FOR YOU , WILL MAKE SURE 

YOUR LIFE , LOVE , WARMTH AND TOUCH , WILL LIVE ON FOREVER , 

IN ME I KNOW THAT YOU CHANGED ME , JUST FROM YOUR 

PRESENCE...THATS'S HOW STRONG YOU WERE MUM I KNOW YOU HAVEN'T LEFT ME , 

FOR THE LOVE IN MY HEART REMAINS , YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO SUFFER AND YOUR 

BODY WILL FEEL NO PAIN...... GOD TOOK YOUR HAND , AND MADE US PART , HE CLOSED 

YOUR EYES , AND BROKE MY HEART ....FOR ALL THE TIMES WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER,

I WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR FACE.

THERE IS NO MOTHER ANYWHERE LIKE YOU,

NO ONE COULD TAKE YOUR PLACE.

IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN YOU WERE LEAVING,

I GUESS I EXPECTED YOU TO FOREVER LAST,

ALL OF THE DREAMS OF US IN THE FUTURE,

ARE NOW BUT MEMORIES OF THE PAST.

GOD TAPPED YOU ON THE SHOULDER,

HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW,

THAT YOU WERE GOING WITH HIM,

TO THE SKY SO BEAUTIFUL BLUE.

ALTHOUGH I MAY NEVER SEE YOU MUM,

ARJAY WILL BE BY YOUR SIDE,

HE'S GONNA HOLD YOUR HAND,

AND LEAD THE WAY,

FOR HE WILL BE YOUR GUIDE.....

I LOVE YOU MY MOTHER.....
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU UNDERSTAND, 
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW,
DON'T TELL ME THAT I WILL SURVIVE,
HOW I WILL SURELY GROW.
DON'T TELL ME THIS IS JUST A TEST,
THAT I AM TRULY BLESSED,
THAT I AM CHOSEN FOR THIS TASK,
APART FROM ALL THE REST.
DON'T COME AT ME WITH  ANSWERS THAT CAN ONLY COME FROM ME,
DON'T TELL ME HOW MY GRIEF WILL PASS,
THAT I WILL SOON BE FREE.
DON'T STAND IN PIOUS JUDGMENT OF THE BONDS I MUST UNTIE,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO SUFFER,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO CRY.
MY LIFE IS FILLED WITH SELFISHNESS,
MY PAIN IS ALL I SEE,
BUT I  NEED YOU,
I NEED YOU YOUR LOVE UNCONDITONALLY.
ACCEPCT ME IN MY UPS AND DOWNS,
I NEED SOMEONE TO SHARE,
JUST TO HOLD MY HAND AND LET ME CRY,
AND SAY, MY FRIEND I REALLY DO CARE
Mom you mean the world to me
It’s hard to live without you ,You were always by my side
Through thick and thin you helped me


Details | Couplet | |

Hieroglyphs unknown by Champollion

Kids are playing with strange blue graffiti
So, they wrote several times: ”Neffertiti” …

And drew the most beautiful queen`s head.
The whole history of Egypt written in red, 

With sacred hieroglyphs unknown by Champollion:
The Pharaons` destiny dandles a dewy dandelion…


Details | Rhyme | |

heart, mind, and soul

father time in my chest
keeper of its own pace
just skin and bone depth
influences time and space
what are we but drifters
 in an unknown

see truth in a literal
belief before my face
stars with no funeral
light will win the race
here i am, not for long
death starts at home

where is this leading?
which story could it be?
despite all my reading
writings the cup of tea
i dont need to know it all
as long as im not alone



Details | Rhyme | |

When Love Hurts

When love hurts, God heals
When love hurts, God feels
Your pain too as you do now
Pray and He'll show you how
When love so hurts, how to deal
The deep pain is oh so very real
God'll cry too for your tears and
It's true about footprints in sand
Reach out and He holds your hand
In kind your mind will feel His love
Hurting'll subside from God's glove 
I know of true hurting, how it feels
Accepting a hand of cards He deals
Painful nights crying, I've had many
But God's blessings, I've had plenty
That I will have better days ahead, I
Know and no longer have need to cry
When life itself hurt I questioned why
But I survived and my faith didn't die
For yesteryear's hurts, it will subside
The tears still come once in a while
But the love memories, I can smile
For God's so in His glorious Kingdom
For Kingdom come, thy will be done
And done will the pain be, away it'll
Go, like wood off a creative whittle
Beautiful to see, as days coming be
God cures all hurt, just wait and see
My mother, dad, brother, baby too
And for me, cried like baby boo hoo
But I wiped away the tears and have
Been blessed like a cow and her calf
Help do words of praying and writing
More than once, had vision - sighting
Not just in dreams, but for really real
I was in such pain, it was just surreal
Once it was Mother/Son, Mary/Jesus?
Through Him I pray for me, bejezzus


Details | Free verse | |

One Heart, One Pen (Why I Write)

People ask me a lot why do I write
Well...Pain is Lyrics am I right
It constricts my heart ever so tight
I try to break the hold with all my might
But the pain is 2 strong
In this mindframe I belong
No friends in my life I remain alone
I was born the same as I will forever be gone
Beginning in my preteens I felt constant oppostion
Looking in the mirror every morning I saw no recognition
Tempted to have my head in the clouds
Which way do I go, drugs or alcohol 
Will it make my conscience proud
It will feel good I told myself, but I saw doubt
I need an outlet, I need a way out
So after the death of my bestfriend
Going on the path to destruction had to end
So in 8th grade english Mrs. Mackowich told us to write a couplet
I felt the urge to "up it"
But I had too much to say
My poetic testimony took the pain away
October 3 2004 was my first write dedicated to my friend's memory
I had my class feeling sympathy, but why do I feel like I'm the enemy
That one death was the weapon to tackle my self-doubt
My depressing
Me stressing
Hopelessness
Self-hate in my heart thrived
My new drug has finally arrived!
So I write everyday, every way
To get away mind-wise
My emotions are disguised
The pen will be my pipe
The ink is my nicotione
Instead of putting it to my lips
I put it to the page
How could I think so deeply at such a young age
I can't stop its addicting
My thoughts are forever flipping
And they ask me why I write
It's obvious I feel spite
After reading people assume I want to be a rapper
Such dogmatic fools why would I participate in such "crapper"
It doesn't matter If I'm black
I'm human and that's that
Rappers write from the mind
I write from the heart
Straight from the middle like a game of darts
I'm the Robert Frost of rap
The Jay-Z of poetry
The Edgar Allen Poe of lyrics
The Kanye West of english
All embodied in one to the end
All I need is One Heart 
All I need is One Pen

If you can't tell that I'm the most unique Afican American of my age you are without 
perspective. If you are not rich and powerful people feel as if what you say is meaningless.I 
speak to people of all corners of humanity with my feelings and thoughts.While my 
bestfriends were partying and doing crime when i was growing up in my teen years, I was in 
my room reading harry potter, playing Playstation, and writing poetry.This is my life and 
talent. The legacy I chose to imprint. This is my ode to poetry.


Details | Epic | |

Sinful Saint

Yeah I walk around life waitng for death/ 
I live in constant despair looking to be blessed/ 
Lies over truth around here always seem to infect/ 
The more sin I get in life the more saintly I seems less/ 
Im trapped in same dark place ;looking for a lighter quest 
I try and live a life full of goodness still trapped in badness I am yet to confess/
 I try and hold onto what seems like something but theres nothing really but family left/
 I know I am not he best, nor am I like the rest/ 
I know I can master checkers but still downed in chess/. 
I got to clean up my act because my life is a mess/ 

I patiently sit back while I ponder life for death and I wait/ 
I might as well look for something simple because I never find nothing great/ 
I struggle to stay under love and over my own hate/ 
I try and be real with others when to my own self I stay fake/ 
I feel life obstacles jolt my ambition like a chain that never breaks/ 
I want less more in life yet as a daily sinner I continue to both physically and mentally take/
 I try and change my dark ways but still struggle at the fact that it might be too late/
 I usaully catch myself complaining when infact I should be thankful for whats on my plate/
 I usually hang onto the past and get scared of the future when I should worry about today/
 I going to be that better man for my child because that sinner no longer in my heart I aint/
 Sometimes in life we all struggle until we strive, but until then Im trapped between a young lost SINFUL SAINT........


Details | Free verse | |

The Same Reservation Road

I walk through the reservation valley of alcoholic death/ 
I fear no darkness among my own for the light breathes life on its own through my every breath/ I can no longer fit in for I need to stand out above the rest/
 I can no longer follow, I got to be the host of my own because Im tired of being the guest/
 
I want to be the writer I dont want to be the reader/ 
I want to be the artist with the brush, I want to create I want to finally be my own leader/
 I want to be able to follow society's rules because I am tired of being a cheater/
 I want to be the supplier because Im tired of being the seeker/ 

I guess life is what I make it/ Forgive less as much as I still continue to forsake it/
 My life is just a jolt but at times I feel death shake it/ Grab my emotions by the reins and straight earthquake it/ I try and fix my problems until someone comes by and breaks it/
 but this is my time because Im still young so this young opportunity in life I must Take it.
 
I got to hold my head held high from being low/ 
I got to stay lost until I find my own being my purpose of another young lost soul/
 I cannot stop because Im too tired of staying stuck I must stay on go/ 
This my life now I know it my story waiting to be patiently told/ 
This my life now I got to let it un fold/ Let it slowly but surely grow/ 
Im just a hidden bomb waiting for my poetry to blow/ 
EVERYTHING I DID OR DO IN LIFE NOW IS SOMETHING I CHOSE? 
I GOTTA CHANGE BECAUSE I JUST CANT KEEP WALKING THE SAME RESERVATION ROAD.


Details | Free verse | |

Edgar Allan Poe

Maverick Free Verse Contest

Edgar allan poe
The master of all horror
He makes you think
He makes you gasp
He makes you worry

He's the master of all
Poetry
The wizard of all
Short stories
That send chills down your spine

After reading you look
Over your shoulder
Always watching
For goblins and ghouls
Threatening to haunt

He can makes his readers
Beileve in the impossible
And imagine the extraordinary
Go to the edges of the mind
And get to your very core

His readers are rained on
With thought-provoking problems
Horrific images of murders
Broken hearts searching for
The ones they lost

He was troubled
But a genius
Weird 
But incrediably talented
His writing unriveled

No one could compete
No one wanted to
No one would dare to challenge him
For they knew he would win
There was no point

All to soon he died
Shrouded in mystery
Envoloped by darkness
Never seen again
Completely gone crazy

Perhaps he is living out
His stories....
Walking among who he created
Looking for his lost loves
And a way to start a new life
Among his creations!

R.I.P. Edgar Allan Poe. You certainly were an amazing addition to american authors.


Details | Rhyme | |

STILL WALKING AND BREATHING

It's sad to reminisce the memory of those
who have long left our world without a chance for goodbyes....
I was left behind for an unexplainable reason
to fulfill a task with a true purpose;
and still walking and breathing I go on,
gathering tiny fragments of stories never told by writers.



Sometimes I tell myself," Why was I continuously spared?"
" Why do I have to be the last one to leave?" 
Those answers will be given to me when I'll grieve,
and close to death : I will hear them through the voice of the Lord. 
And instead of receiving comfort, I will generously give it...
even to the enemy who once despised my honesty; 
and coexisting with everyone, I will uphold my ethical code and go forth,
not cogitating the mystery of my unblemished identity.



Many before me have achieved this by resisting change,
not adapting to the new moralities dictated by society,
but the result was too tragic and gruesome for all to accept reality;
and as lepers with open wounds, they still indulged in pleasure,
hiding their disease with canning lies and eloquent flair....
I would cut off my own hands, rather than share the unclean thing!  



And still walking and breathing, my arduous mission must be complete:
neither ridicule nor contemptible looks will make me put my rod away!
I'll stick to my convictions and move on to delight in another blessed day,
and as bewildered as they may be, I refuse to be compassionate...
they must understand the purpose of my birth,
identify those works and deeds that give me worth,
then the outcome wouldn't be short of a miracle;
and ebullient as they appear, I suspect they will tremble!



Details | I do not know? | |

The Way That I Flow

Inanimate emotion, of insufficient funds,
A stanza full of metaphors, and metaphorical puns
Living life holding a pen, an eraser is the only one to forgive,
A combination of lyrical rhymes, but where does it end?

Or does it end? Maybe the end is where it begins,
a vicious cycle, it's uncontrollable, like death dephying winds, 
Where death and lying wins, and life on this planet doesn't exist,
So our imaginations are forced to pretend, that the elements around us are our friends

But I see things differently, I'm just a pathetic, 
Prophetic kid, living in a notebook, trying to comprehend,
How to stay poetic, but it isn't what it seems
It's strange how closely my nightmares relate to my dreams

I've never done anything right, my whole life I've been living wrong,
Writing has always been my solution, it's a never ending hall
I'm externally torn, internally my soul has been reborn
My waredrobe is new, I got rid of the clothes that I wore

I'm untouchable, I'm nothing though, and I'll tell my story through
The Way That I Flow


Details | Couplet | |

A Poet At Sea

                                                     Just a Poet at sea...
                                   A voyage across waters where I can be free...

                                      I sit with my feet up writing of the views...
                               Always knowing that my poetry will make small news...

                                The pages turn as I watch parents and children play...
                           I scribe tales of lovers and dreamers who set sail that day...

                            As the darkness filled the night only a quiet sky set a tone...
                                The moon is my light to scribble as I watch all alone...

                              The shaking of my pen as my paper is dusted in snow...
                Then screams of horror as water pours at my feet with no where to go...

                             I clench my book of tales and run to a point where I can be...
                                    And there I float as this world is eaten by the sea...

                                              As silence and cries drift fast asleep...
                               I close my eyes and die with only my poetry to keep...


written for DreamWeavers
Titanic contest...
by Michael J Falotico


Details | Ballad | |

Better Than Grace

how can we pretend that everything is okay
when the world is soon to turn to grey
I've took this life and its treasures in vane
when you'd easily trade with me any day

you're amazing better than grace
so amazing just can't turn the page
amazing can't find the strength
to gaze at your face and not look away
look what we've done, coming undone
slowly fading away, so amazing
better than grace

you say they gave you less than six months
never thought it could hurt this much
I'd give anything just to save you
oh what can i do, just say because

you're amazing better than grace
so amazing just can't turn the page
amazing can't find the strength
to gaze at your face and not look away
look what we've done, coming undone
slowly fading away, so amazing
better than grace

with every breath we take, just another test today
don't walk away before it's too late
we should all be ashamed of ourselves because

he's amazing better than grace
so amazing just can't turn the page
amazing can't find the strength
to gaze at your face and not look away
look what we've done, coming undone
slowly fading away, so amazing
better than grace


Details | Blank verse | |

Lost Poet

Life as a lonely lost poet bred from dark cracks 
Lost soul living plain and simple among the people black and white 
Drug along with alcoholic among us distracts 
Lost values and principles around one many continue to lack 
Everyday simple facts, its like breathing through plastic sacks 
Slowly suffercating until the brain goes wack 
Once death comes my way I must keep it part of my past 
Aint no way God going to bring my little brother back 
I guess its a curse upon all those of us living like outlaw of an outcast 
How the **** will I ever truly outlast until I heal and break out my cast 
God cant you see Im tired of wearing this permanent mask 
I know my poetry has hidden answers if I look and read closer so I shouldnt have to ask
 Staying lost is a choice in the open road with no gas 
So as a lost poet through hardships now and in the future I will outgrow it 
The devil trying to get my soul and behold it 
but I know only this one man controls it 
Its too priceless for even my own greed to have sold it 
So as a lost poet I will climber higher than high if not then right below it 
Found in a world of lies with few truths as but another lost poet


Details | Narrative | |

Oh, Pepe (Vignette)

Too enthralled by his works done
Last farewell been said and made
Mockingbirds and sparrows came
Las vivas and the sound of guns-
He faced the 7 o’clock morn sun




Note:

Dr. Jose P. Rizal- poet/author of  "Noli Me Tangere" and 
"El Filibusterismo", his famous novels that cost his life.



Details | I do not know? | |

Brain Dead

There I lay.

Remained, unchanged.
Mind numb, thoughts blank,
Only visions of snowy white project onto the black backs of my eyelids.

Was I paralyzed? Or perhaps I had reached my final destination six feet under the earth...

No. Worse...
Writer's block.

I look around me. Nothing but enclosed darkness. No windows, no doors. 
The air is thick and cold...not yet cold enough to see my breath, but just cold enough for an uncomfortable setting...the monotonous silence is deafening...

I panic, running around frantically in the chilling prison walls of my mind, screaming, clawing, kicking, hoping to somehow break through and see the light of day. 
I stop after what seems like endless useless hours of fighting. Hands bruised and drenched in stale dried blood. 

I'm sitting on the ground now. I yell into the emptiness but receive nothing in return, no echo, nothing. I yawn wildly in fear I have gone deaf...but then I hear a voice. Soft and faint, so gentle that I'm ambushed with another attack of yawns to once again reassure that the tiny whispers are more than my blank labrynthed mind playing tricks on me.

There is a light. A small light, bright and inviting. Shining through an old fashion key hole, to an old fashion door that seemed to appear from thin air.

On hands and knees I approach it with caution. I hear the innocent voice again and I pause. I take a deep breath and look into the peep hole. 

I find myself locked eyes in the reflection of the wild appearance man in my computer screen and awaken.


Details | I do not know? | |

REST IN PEACE MUM ANN BROWN 18 AUG 2011

MUM ...

WHERE DO I START? I DON'T THINK THERE IS WORDS , TO EXPLAIN HOW I AM 


FEELING ABOUT THE LOSS OF YOU... BUT I WILL USE ALL THE STRENGTH YOU HAVE 


GIVEN TO ME , SO I CAN GET THESE FINAL WORDS OUT THE GUILT , SADNESS AND 

REGRET  FROM NOT SEEING YOU LIKE I WANTED TO  SO ****ING MUCH ,

 THEN THE PAIN OF NOT HAVING  A CHANCE TO SAY "GOODBYE" TO THE MOST 

BEAUTIFUL MOTHER COULD WANT, AND YES MUM I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUTO HOLD 

YOUR HAND, TO SEE YOU SMILE , TO HEAR YOUR VOICE, WOULD MAKE MY LIFE MORE 

WORTHWHILE. YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO LIVE, BUT YOU NEVER TAUGHT ME HOW TO 

LIVE WITHOUT YOU I MISS YOU SO SO MUCH MUM, BUT THE LOVE IN MY HEART FOR YOU , WILL MAKE SURE 

YOUR LIFE , LOVE , WARMTH AND TOUCH , WILL LIVE ON FOREVER , 

IN ME I KNOW THAT YOU CHANGED ME , JUST FROM YOUR 

PRESENCE...THATS'S HOW STRONG YOU WERE MUM I KNOW YOU HAVEN'T LEFT ME , 

FOR THE LOVE IN MY HEART REMAINS , YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO SUFFER AND YOUR 

BODY WILL FEEL NO PAIN...... GOD TOOK YOUR HAND , AND MADE US PART , HE CLOSED 

YOUR EYES , AND BROKE MY HEART ....FOR ALL THE TIMES WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER,

I WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR FACE.

THERE IS NO MOTHER ANYWHERE LIKE YOU,

NO ONE COULD TAKE YOUR PLACE.

IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN YOU WERE LEAVING,

I GUESS I EXPECTED YOU TO FOREVER LAST,

ALL OF THE DREAMS OF US IN THE FUTURE,

ARE NOW BUT MEMORIES OF THE PAST.

GOD TAPPED YOU ON THE SHOULDER,

HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW,

THAT YOU WERE GOING WITH HIM,

TO THE SKY SO BEAUTIFUL BLUE.

ALTHOUGH I MAY NEVER SEE YOU MUM,

ARJAY WILL BE BY YOUR SIDE,

HE'S GONNA HOLD YOUR HAND,

AND LEAD THE WAY,

FOR HE WILL BE YOUR GUIDE.....

I LOVE YOU MY MOTHER.....
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU UNDERSTAND, 
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW,
DON'T TELL ME THAT I WILL SURVIVE,
HOW I WILL SURELY GROW.
DON'T TELL ME THIS IS JUST A TEST,
THAT I AM TRULY BLESSED,
THAT I AM CHOSEN FOR THIS TASK,
APART FROM ALL THE REST.
DON'T COME AT ME WITH  ANSWERS THAT CAN ONLY COME FROM ME,
DON'T TELL ME HOW MY GRIEF WILL PASS,
THAT I WILL SOON BE FREE.
DON'T STAND IN PIOUS JUDGMENT OF THE BONDS I MUST UNTIE,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO SUFFER,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO CRY.
MY LIFE IS FILLED WITH SELFISHNESS,
MY PAIN IS ALL I SEE,
BUT I  NEED YOU,
I NEED YOU YOUR LOVE UNCONDITONALLY.
ACCEPCT ME IN MY UPS AND DOWNS,
I NEED SOMEONE TO SHARE,
JUST TO HOLD MY HAND AND LET ME CRY,
AND SAY, MY FRIEND I REALLY DO CARE
Mom you mean the world to me
It’s hard to live without you ,You were always by my side
Through thick and thin you helped me


Details | I do not know? | |

Thank You For Your Son

It came as a surprise when she found
she was with child, carrying with in her
was the boy child who would save us all.

Wonder what she thought back then when
she found out that she was going to give
birth to the boy child who would be the
Savior of the world and then be taken
away on a wooden cross on a hill side?

Never once did she complain but embraced
the life growing inside her all the time knowing
that the day would come when she would be
taught all about her son who came to us on Christmas.

Was he a good baby I wonder some times?
Did he ever have his days and nights mixed up?
Was he ever fussy and cranky as normal kids?
When he was older did he play marbles, or at
least games with the other kids his age, did he
know he was different the night he came to us?

When he grew to teen age hood I am sure he had
a sense of understanding of what his purpose was,
and why he had been given to this woman and man.

Was he ever discouraged, having second thoughts on
things, laying awake worrying where would the next
days food come from? Of course I am sure there
were many days he lost faith, felt let down by his
Father above asking the questions Why?

Thank you Mary and Joseph for sharing your beloved
baby boy with us because with out him we would be 
nothing. Thank you God for loving us enough to give
us your only son. I am sure it was painful to watch him
DIE on that cross but I am so glad he did.


Details | Acrostic | |

Love's Reverence, a cover of ''A Boat Beneath A Sunny Sky''

Chivalrist of pure intent
Honoured by the ears that lent
A tale recounted to content

Resplendant wonders brought to ear
Laments that draw an unseen tear
Evasion of the heart's deep fear

Soft young mind and placid eyes
Lucid to the tale's disguise
Unseeing the truth behind the lies

There upon the golden water
Wimsically listening to the lauder
Inclines the middle Liddell daughter

Days have come and years have passed
Golden evenings couldn't last
Erosionary time has swept too fast

Dreary dawns and bitter nights
Overcame the muse's might
Dead and gone, that fragile light

Greiving when his heart was tore
Secreted to land of lore
On through Wonderland he'll soar

Now to dream forevermore


Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry About Poetry

Shades of color bounce within
Singing their hues dancing in place
Vivid lines colored outside
Rules broken with empty space
A midnights dream heard and seen
Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye
Wings touched flown and plucked
Gliding like a bird up in the sky
Wishes from pennies thrown into tears
The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain
Drowning from the shadows 
The flood paints the day
Words speak volumes of silence hidden
Their sounds blind to what they see
Mirrors of nouns and verbs 
Their meaning and secrets lost at sea
Emotions ruled by laws of language
Spelled in boxes of glass
Melted from sands inside
That voices strangle to grasp


Details | Rhyme | |

Before it is too Late

Wars, famine and pestilences.
Death comes with a pension.

Poor people in this country.
Poverty all over, feeling empty.

Diseases spreading all over the globe.
Some mutated, some foretold.

Global warming sends a warning.
No one listens, it keeps on moaning.

Clean water becoming undrinkable.
Poisoning into the unthinkable.

Beauty that the world once held.
Destroyed by only a single shell.

Threats of war, they will come due.
A price to pay, because we are cruel.

Extinction presages as our future.
If we don’t all heed the bigger picture.  

Terrorism is the world's axis of evil.
World in court, everyone is blameful.

We must be meaningful and do our part.
It's never to late to have a change of heart.


Details | Questionku | |

Dying poem

Written at dawn,
The word became verse.
Can we dye as poem?


Details | Acrostic | |

DAMAGE

Drain out the violence from the paintbrush and smear it to the canvas 

Aggressive creatures scuttle into my expanding cranium

Memories of him echoes through the forest…into the atmosphere

Astonishing screams of misfortune filter the forest where he once trailed

Great solitude and rage tortures us all…we will not fall!

Everlasting breakage paints me a portrait of turmoil and what not


Details | ABC | |

Dear Lord (by kimmy holmes my daughter)

Dear Lord 
please receive me
i've been stumblin around
deceivin me
i wan't heaven now
how do I get that?
do I stop eatin meat
stop being me
How do I get to Heaven?
I NEEDS my mama
I need my Sons
My SUNS
I'm lyin
dyin
before everyones eyes


Details | Free verse | |

Swan Song

The shaman in Siberian snows,
Singing and dying
And flying;
The Gnostic in life creating lines
Of song, of death,
Learning to heart his poetry,
To sing
With his last breath;
Pythagorus’s sacred password verse
Easing his transition
To heaven
From earth;
All know the deep wisdom
Of the mystic swan
Who sings as her soul takes flight
Towards the Love,
Towards the Light.

By the power of song,
By lines of love,
By pure poetry and profound enchantment,
We embrace the joyful journey
To the world
Of Spirit


Details | Epic | |

A New Collection to the Eye Forest

Crackling blood lies in these forest grounds
Grass growing by its lively effect…
Growing a grimace to the environment    
As the predators hung her on the branches,
carving her left eye on the oak tree
and carving her right eye on the olive tree

They grow livelier…
sucking up the carrions from off the ground
Drowning the vines that try to 
suffocate and remove them for life
left to be in history…unceasingly forgotten 

Now the forest has industrialized into an Eye Forest
Eyes protruding…extorting on the tree trunks
Liquefied by anguish…they had wished to escape
Their pupils punctured by arrows of death 
They grow more affectionate towards the lively soul… 
watching people suffer in indignity and disproof
Here’s that living evidence! Hidden proof!
 
Hunted by the worst predator out there
in the deepest of the forest

The eyes seem to stare into your own
Locked with your frightening vibes 
Feeling your dangling fears and pain 
Weeping them insane…
there is no one out there to be blamed,
even in the deepest of the forest

Oh you carrion heart, soul and body
you are accepted to the collection
and grow insanely and look into a world of reflection

You are one of those who lie in the midst of obscurity 
JUST wait till the day of Resurrection... 

Oh you carrion soul and body 
Surviving through the shadows of the forest, 
roaming along the compacted forest, 
moping about in displeasure 
because without a doubt 
you are a magnificent collection 
to the eye generation 
to look upon a cheerless, remorseful life,
Given away by the predator

They soon diminish the evidence…
Here’s that living evidence! Hidden proof!
You’re left for dead after all

Allow them to spread one of your eyes
on this tantalizing tree
Let them do their job as a hunter
Your awareness is diminished

Allow yourself to not be startled 
Lose yourself,
and later on, you’ll break free of pain and fear


Details | Free verse | |

My Eternal

everywhere but the nape of my neck fills with goosebumps
his deathly kiss is cold, but Intense
i know what is soon to come, but I cannot feel Afraid
that would only hasten My emanate bloody death
my skin is pierced and my spine has a surge of electricity shocking my system
i collapse into his Viscous grasp

the world has never been this Auroral 
My heart has never felt darker
is an eternity in hell worth an almost infinite life of extraordinary feats to be overcome?
i know my Power is great
but now I weaken with thirst

i am not better
i am simply a slave to blood now
i could write for infinity, but i'd Rather Earn my way into hell
starting with the death of my maker


Details | Free verse | |

Poetic

sitting
 in the corner
 of a pub
 
I write vows
 and eulogies
 I speak
 of the dead
 visiting
 the departed
 
speaking of love
 waxing of life
 on the breath
 of a baby 

I take minutes
 of hours
 I wrap my hands
 in cheesecloth
 
stained with black
 my fingernails
 have loosened
 from their beds
 
life passes through
 my pen, surging
 and ebbing
 with each tragedy
 or celebration 

I read lips
 hear tones
 watching from afar
 the faces
 
but unable
 to touch
 the life in them


Details | Free verse | |

Obituary

I wrote an obituary to share my thoughts, the words about a loved one's life and passing. In mourning, I will bury the flesh and remember the existence of a life, to honor and cherish the soul, worldly achievements and love in our hearts. Sadly, all condensed to a paragraph on a page, a short tour of the memories family and friends hold dear. Out of the words, we reflect on the light of a life, one drop in a ray of eternal light. Each letter, a moment, a breath, we must buy. A part of me died, too, and life goes on. I feel the earth...it will still orbit the sun. Days turn to years. Yes, life goes on. I have a child now, a boy, my loved one will never meet on this earth. Perhaps, on this journey, our boat will take us to the otherside where we will all meet one day. Your love lives, I wrote in memoriam. I will always carry your love, a radiance lit within my heart, displayed like the finest, priceless art. For The Word Games Contest (Catie Lindsey)


Details | Elegy | |

Elegy for Mihalyi Csikzentmihalyi 2011

Mihaly was a saint of sorts;

he improved, with his search for understanding,

the lives of so many yearning writers;

the lame in spirit heard his Zen like words.

He could not have imagined the journey

From Hungary to Zurich to Chicago

A glimpsed mandala led to the heart of the impossible image

How did he learn to trust the flow?

The Rhine flowing down to the North Sea

May start as some minute spring

At the confluence of the gravity of water and earth.

And those then who have cast their nets into that sea

May bring in treasures not found in the business of cities.

At the first sighting,the image seemed hazy

Then the words began to flow like current through a wire.

Like a river cutting slowly through rocks of marble,

like an unknown sage from the Himalyan Alps

who had kissed the lips of his muse more than once

As she floated like a ghost, no,more like music

Tracing concentric spheres into the air

Till the universe was singing.

What was most human was his appetite,his love.

Touch the hem of his garment,follow your flow

Cut your path through the hard darkness until you find

The sunlit sea you were made to swim in

like a fish in its own sphere


Details | Classicism | |

twenty four hours O'raisin deter-:

Senseless sensibility, 
they eolith dualist monopolies all too sudden… 
a true contradition; sentries of, 
as already sated… 
senseless sensibility… municipally… 
you-will-seize… day after deign… 
night after umberellian echoes… 
aversely cyclic… 
for if the wakean lent voice o’er hop itself, 
dost veer cane tray nether realm as well? 
Neigh… endomorphic; anthropaedophilic lust… 
steadily endures romantic inflammations… 
a rash once fought… 
until the moral ambiguity slides back 
unto tenuous tense and marathon… 
as if the end was already soon, or had passed…? 
For that as it seems is all too rhetorical in rhetoric, 
and misconstrued by puncture floundered fallacappy… 
gently top-plead due to intrinsartistic licensing… 
twenty four hour raffles, tambala sable… 
twenty four hours O’raisin deter…:


Details | Free verse | |

The Journey

From time immemorial your story began
A hundred, a thousand, a million years and more
Your story past written a character just one
The tale of you bleeds into all

Each story unique while pieces the same
Today, tomorrow, millennia expended and gone
Your story continues passed first to no last
The tale of you bleeds into all

Through love and hate, laughter and death
Minutes and seconds grew to decades and days
The story being written you wrote each day
The tale of you bleeds into all

Memories endure through dream and remembrance
Yesterday is gone but tomorrow you live on
Your story yet written a character more than one
The tale of you bleeds into all

Your stories the fires shall never consume
A past, a future, a present goes on
The story you wrote lives forever in your love
The tale of you bleeds into all


Details | Bio | |

The Death of Saddam Hussein

It's been a long time since Saddam Hussein was executed by the Arab authorities and the U.S. Armed Forces (the U.S. Army, the U.S. Navy, the U.S. Coast Guard, and the U.S. Air Force). This guy had been terrorizing the entire Arabian nation since the Cold War and Operation: Desert Storm. Saddam had been torturing people for no reason and chopping up his victims limb by limb. The Arabians and the Americans are glad that Saddam Hussein's dead, especially for what he did to these people, even his wife.  It seems that he had pure hatred toward other people, including us Americans. Saddam was responsible for the deaths of all innocent Iraqi's citizens. the loser was also responsible for starting the war games in Iraq and stuff. Mr. Hussein was the President of Iraq until he was captured by the U.S. Armed Forces and the then-President of the United States of America George W. Bush. Saddam Hussein was just like Osama Bin Laden, even when that guy killed all of the U.S. citizens in New York City on Tuesday, September 11, 2001. And because of Hussein and Bin Laden, the United States of America had lost its innocence, even since 9/11. Not only was Saddam Hussein a gutless coward, but on top of all that, he was also a womanizing cheater and a heartless assassin, too, as well. But now that this human-killing, soulless, heartless Neanderthal has been executed for starting war games, terrorizing unexpected citizens of Iraq, and killing the men because they couldn't get jobs, go to school, or whatever (good riddance), the Iraqis back in 2004 had moved on with their lives. and not only is Saddam Hussein dead, but Osama Bin Laden is also dead. And as far as the Iraqis, the U.S. Armed Forces, and the U.S. citizens are concerned, the giant Pit of Inferno is exactly where they belong. We all wish Saddam Hussein, Osama Bin Laden, and other terrorists had never been born.


Details | Free verse | |

She walks among books as if they are flowers

She walks among books as if they are flowers – 
Picking the dust from their parched leaves 
like the busy bumblebee seeking for pollen. 

Breathless – She caress the patchy pages
to feel their scent – her favored perfume, 
and the texture of their numbered petals. 

She hears the song – The Silence- with glee,
evading the moonlight in her daily course – 
No bird sings in her hallowed garden. 

No poets praise her unchanging beauty – 
but all poems she takes to herself, 
reigning lonely and terrible in her Helicon.

She is never lost but she never leaves – 
Nor greets any visitor with her pale hello, 
absently wandering near her chilly stroke. 

The seedbed is sterile, yet she still rejoices – 
Winter never leaves, Winter never arrives, 
her flowers still colorful as they never were. 

She dances – her feet barely touch the ground, 
serene –never closing her eyes – not once, 
her fortune clasped closely to her still chest. 

As a confined moth wriggling her wings in a fray
- restless – she unfolds her arms and gazes 
mirrors incapable to reflect her own pale face.  

She walks among books as if they are flowers –
Flipping their pages without rest, without break, 
in deadly splendor after every lonely midnight.


Details | Free verse | |

and we are gone

... And be one eye , one soul 
as the world recedes , gone ,
away far climbs. Vanished like a 
driven cloud.
		He is merely flesh and blood Reality ;
slaughterhouse stumbling through script
	typed in selfless pursuit.
Wanting only quickened wit & Pupil's Needs.

Mortal simian image, which we , the living 
only feel and bear and tremble and 
are gone. 
Upon my Darling's beaming eyes The summit 
of everest slurs into a bog or quagmire , deep 
and dank.
	So gazing with the boldness which prevails
love, and peace and gracious mirth.
	with a voice less loud though its 
joys and fears show wool in dissembled 
colours shine.
	
	As the passers by near us drew 
the Need to know from our stares, going further...
	" O Merciless Lady & Vulture Poet
when I am pinned and wriggling on the wall
I will turn my bewildered eyes out 
of soil and darkness , to run through 
every alternate scene 
Where I  used to play on the green
in goodly colours gloriously arrayed.

And a voice less loud brought me 
breathless to Aphrodite , throned in 
flowers beyond this pale picture ; 
be the dream. Roaing with laughter 
as a fallow deer is clear cut through 
the sun seen peering out the skull.
Alls 
vast lilliputin language cannot describe
an Echo of the Time, after the rainbow.
Then , as if some strange mystery aware
that you should remember & be sad.
Now memory feels itself grow weak , I can 
not endure,
	I am merely flesh and blood "
"it will be found once more , I say to
thee with furtive flagons , white and red.
Now get back retreat, depart."
	She of the tribunal did command
great at sea, and the Heaven. From some 
touch of pity which may still restrain 
she let him pass.

A leaf fallling softly at my feet,
but I saw it was not as thought , 
only inked. Falling in Heaven's crescendo.
Climax always brushing distance out 
of reach.
As to long panoramas of Visions, of 
my faith , I'd give whole to see the architect
of my dreams once more. I am 
waiting here for thee, flesh and blood , merely.

	Ne'er to be found again. I am 
like a flag unfurled in space. Oh ! Lost 
to Her and all thy race to wit
 faces of scorn , stuttering ends 
this morn ; O Weak Heart. I long 
to rise. Never being a Poet of God's making ,
laughter to thy lips, wandering to sigh 
among mortal men dust ; shall return to 
dust. As the storm cries everynight 
and those that know me confirm that it is thus.
Easing a new epilogue , tremble 
and we are gone...


Details | Rhyme | |

I Didn't Want to Write this Poem

I didn’t want to write this poem
Of twenty children dead.
I’d much prefer composing words
Of pleasant things instead.

I didn’t want to think up rhymes
For evil, horror, shock;
I’d like to hide those images
Behind a mental block.

I didn’t want to conjure up
A classroom filled with death,
Or parents of those kindergartners
Struggling for breath.

I didn’t want to write of those
Who heard each awful shot.
I didn’t want to write this poem
But then, how could I not?


Details | Free verse | |

have you seen the poet?

have you seen the poet?
who wrote like Moses
with thoughts like lightning
who envisioned a better world
but solved pain with pills
waged war with words
describing images that scratched
against the stomach lining
messed with the mind
did this poet find God
in a burning bush?
or did a heroin filled needle
strike on hallowed ground?


Details | Free verse | |

Babylon

Words hold the meaning that we assign them
Ever since the fall of the tower .....


Babylon
Ancient land of mysteries solved
and shared
Where collective mind 
cast away the shadow of doubt.

Creative thought 
held siege by the Jealous Gods of war
and retribution
Zeus
Appolo
Yeshua


A hundred times, babylon fell
to the Kassites, the Assyrians, 
She fell 
and was re-built by Nebuchadnezzar   
The hanging gardens, of Eden
her fruit of art and music
flowed through deserts
with the sweet wine of Bacchus
intoxicating all in her pleasure. 

In the aftermath of the great feast
they awoke to find
The Persian army stationed amidst them
having walked through the river
and under the walls.  
Order reform, separation. 
corruption deterioration
Dust to dust.
till
Alexander the Great
wooed her alive again.. 
Babylon
dancing through gardens, libraries, 
markets, travel and trade
musicians, poets and playwrights 
came again to sing praises of her beauty.
With his death 
she fell
pawed apart by the feuding decay of his bureaucrats.
Babylon, death and rebirth..

Now she lies beneath the sands, 
beneath the waters of the Euphrates 
A camel ride south of Bagdad
where the tanks and shells of many lands
shake the ancient tower down.

Hammurabi’s code still stands
shattered into a million languages.

Right is right
and Law is Law.


Details | Blank verse | |

The Puppeteer

She's running toward the light.
She's chased it all her life.
She wants it all to end so bad,
But she will never reach salvation.

She sold her soul.
He tricked her.
The master of deception.
The puppeteer.

She thought he wanted more,
More than just her mind,
But that's all he wanted,
To put strings attached.

She has to break free,
Before he comes.
She must cut the strings,
Pull them apart.

But she doesn't know how.
She's desperate.
She cuts her wrist.
She thinks she just reached salvation.

But she just let him forever have her.
She completed the deal.
She shed the blood.
She killed herself.

Now the light goes out,
And she's all alone.
She starts to cry,
Then she hears footsteps.
He's come for her...


Details | Free verse | |

Welcome To The Darkness

Welcome To The Darkness

Why do people want me to live in the light?
There is too much fake happiness
Too much lying to keep things happy
The darkness is honest
There are demons and monsters
They lurk at every corner
My thoughts are out in the open
I may want to die
Killed by my own hand
Maybe get gushing wounds from razor sharp teeth
But I will know that the decision will be mine
No one to tell me everything will be alright
I know and you know that it will never be good
There is nothing but pain and blood
You would never tell me about that
I had to find out on my own
I have had to learn to ignore your promises
You can keep the light and shove it
I will live in my world
I know the shadows
I know what is hiding in the unlit crevasses
When I do die by my own hand
My spirit will haunt you
Tormenting you for writing your light poems
You will learn that the world is not flowers and puppies
You will see that the truth is fire and brimstone
You will see my eternal Hell
And I will just smile and wave as I welcome you
And I will say I told you so as the dark envelops you
Welcome to my life
My ideas
My truth


Details | Couplet | |

The Monster

The monster became a living, walking nightmare
my dive into insanity, no longer perfect, containing a blank stare

I should resist, the monster will find me, run away with me
Pretend to hear my meager complaints, force me to see what I'm afraid to see

Blame and guilt, volleying right and left, up and down
It's crashing me closer, with every step, I'm falling to the ground

It's all a game, just play along, play the game, play it well
Brimming confidence, dissolved in thoughts, of what? I won’t tell

Demons, devil born souls, run quick, run fast, stand my ground
No sense of fear, n sense of foreboding, not even a slight sound

High speed, pursuit of hell, bent on going, bent on crashing
Giving into the power, life's faster, lights flashing

Crash and torment me again, my eyes close after all
The beginning of the end for me, feeling numb after the fall

Is there a way out? I'm different, distant and moved on
Listen to the water, calling, coaxing into death, I'm gone

Endless, empty cloud; dreamless oblivion; oxygen, exhalation
Am I dead? Still alive? Broken into pieces, I need motivation

Reality closes in, walls me in; until there’s nothing there
Death comes behind me, containing a blank stare.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The Real Aftermath

All of the aftermaths occur after the wake of a bunch of terrible events: Hurricane
Katrina, the September 11th attacks in New York City, War in Iraq, and others. these types
of tragic events and a bunch of aftermaths have been around since the day the world was
created by God. There's no telling what will happen next if these tragedies keep coming
unexpectedly and stuff. It seems to all of the Americans today that after these tragedies
like the deaths of their loved ones, the deaths of most U.S. soldiers, Hurricanes Ike and
Rita destroying Houston, Texas, these people are trying to deal with the loss of their
homes and other people have been mourning the loss of the ones who've lost their lives to
these tragic events or by the hands of evil people. The aftermath of those events have
been haunting the lives of all U.S. citizens since day one. What makes most people sad is
that they have to deal with the fact that their loved ones are gone and other people are
still trying to deal with the fact that America almost lost its innocence, even after
9-11. These events have been talked about on the news at 5:00 p.m., 6:00 p.m., and 9:00
p.m. This is so wrong, especially for us Americans. Tragedies and the aftermath of all
heartbreaking tragedies are starting to make us even more sad and depressed. Everybody
doesn't like it. And if all types of tragedies continue to rise and there's going to be
more aftermaths after those tragedies or whatever, we'll be in for a rude awakening.


Details | Epic | |

Fate

Fate is always decided by other people, including the judge and/or by God. Fate will also have conspired against those who've not been considerate to others, not working together as a team, or whatever. There's such thing as redemption and second chances and stuff.  Fate works two ways: one by punishment, the other by love and companionship. What's so great about fate is that everybody's destiny is decided and what will happen to the those who've done all the deeds, good or bad. It seems that when two people ( a man and a woman) don't want to see each other again after just one day, fate will have other plans for them, especially those who aren't married or dating as of right now. everybody knows that the condemnation or love will have sealed everybody's fate. especially that of the future. And speaking about the future, that will have already been decided and fate will always be there, no matter where they go. Another meaning of fate is when the three goddesses will have decided the fate of a human being, whether it's good or bad. Fate also has affected the lives of every human being. Even when the outcome of the end comes around in the near future, fate is always there. That's why there's a difference between fate and destiny. It also seems to me that every event occurred will have sealed our fate, even when we pass on. And if fate and destiny were to stay for a long time, we'll know what the future will be like for us human beings.


Details | Free verse | |

Latenight No2

On grieving:
there is both a time
and a place.
Leave your swollen sensations at your seats,
and please allow the door to hit you on your way out;
I can tell you need the kick.
Call it a funeral,
sounds like a carnival,
call it a funeral,
I call it a fun-for-all.


Details | Free verse | |

Troubled Constantly Changing

One dead pine still standing
Gray billowing clouds above
Threat of rain stormy weather
From those dark clouds unloved

Those bodies in the graves
Are not bothered, resting in repose
The tombstones stand(unchanged) unhampered
We the living are the troubled, constantly changing
By exposure to storms untold

We know our time is soon coming
When a marble or granite marker our name contains
Will anyone remember our living?
Somehow I feel that my words will be remembered!
Passed on as time continues to unfold...


Details | Grook | |

A Knight's Parody

A magic knight coursing on in brilliance

On lean hack in clanging, cleaving aegis,

Crunching incantation-dark, blunt, and grunt.

So light illumines his cold, whiskered phiz

And it predates the warrior in night hunt.

Chase is stashed by shade then stir lulls to prance

When periphery is gorged by a mist.

Pitches of bolts burst ahead ere he cries.

His corpus recoils from cuffs in the breasts;

Wide-flat nose lights down to the ground; he dies.


Details | Free verse | |

Another Suffering Poet

When I feel bitter discontentment
I take out my poision pen to immortalize
The ones who have crushed
Me with their 
Gigantic, concrete boulders
Like many before me
Who cried tears
Of overwhelming sadness
Lingering depression 
And infinite lonliness
I have become one with them
For we all possess
The same quality
The need to be set free
Through the expression of 
The thoughts that haunt our minds
We release our agony through our poetic prose
Our words are few
But, they speak volumes
About what lies inside us
For my creativity 
Stems from the intensity
That roams within me
My open wounds
Exposed for all to view
When I compose
A melodic rhyme
It speaks of my angst
Through mystery
Making my reader
Look beyond the face value
Of my syntax
And search for the true meaning
Of which I was attempting to convey
My poetic talents 
Can only bring miniscule relief
From what has been
Creeping up on me
Following me 
My entire life
I hear the clock ticking
The hand is about to strike midnight
The fairytale is over
Time is running out
Like sand passing through the hourglass
I wait for the day
I muster up the courage
To turn on the gas stove
Sticking my head in 
Sylvia Plath style
So I can take my last breath
Ending my melancholic existence forever
For I couldn't escape the curse
Of my literary collegues
That preceded me
Whose lives were filled 
With despair and doom
Who spent their life tormented
By the demons inside their soul
Because I, like them
Couldn't stop feeling the torture
Of my past
When I laid down my pen
And closed my eyes
For I am just another suffering poet
In my grave
Decaying away
After a life wasted


Details | Rhyme | |

Freedom

We are sullenly mourning
For security from the demoralizing night
I am despairingly probing
For mercy to carry us back to our divine flight

We are all wishing for infinite freedom
We are all seeking for an abundant kingdom

If we are living in pure happiness, why are we so emotional inside and out?
Why are we painstakingly tracking down a getaway away from this mystifying dilemma? What is all this venturing about?
If we are swaying in the rhythm of faultless jolliness, why are we vexing about the departure of our best friend?
It isn’t in our control…so get a grip or we'll fall!
If we build up our friendship, we'll have wounds to mend
So stop your blaming and cursing or we'll be in appall 

If we are all leaders, why are we panicking?

We are all leaders…we aren’t senseless pleaders!
So face your phobias and get out of the deserted state!
We are all leaders…we will not give in, vile deceivers!
Saunter out of sight, so we won’t meet our unsettling fate!

You meddled with our cries
So don't point fingers, you insidious devil
And forced us to believe your jaded lies
SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I don't want to consider your excuses, for our truth stands still

If we are living in pure happiness, why are we not meant to be?
If we are living in pure happiness, why are we battered and bent?
If I am living in pure happiness, why am I not free?
Could we ever discard this horrifying dilemma that pounds on us like cement?


We must act like a leader—tough and vigilant
Striving to survive!
We must mimic like a leader—buff and independent
Struggling to stay alive!

Disregard the mourning state;
Drive out the defiant enemies and make them face their damnations
So we can joyfully integrate and negotiate
You’d do me a favor to cease your supplications!  


Details | Rhyme | |

Eulogies

At funerals, we listen as
The anecdotes are shared.
Some speakers prattle off the cuff
While others are prepared.

The congregation laughs when tales
Embody the deceased.
Those chortles let the tears subside
As tension is released.

As relatives and friends reflect,
Each listener may wonder,
What stories will be told of me
When I’ll be six feet under?

A life that lasted decades
Leaves a void, to some, immense;
Yet just a few examples
And that essence we condense.

The mourners may be left with wisps
Defining the departed,
Such quick-drawn sketches meant to soothe
The not-so-broken-hearted.

Vignettes can only say so much,
Though comfort they provide.
To those who count, there’s much more left
Than words, when someone’s died.


Details | Free verse | |

my favourite path

i see it before me 
i have not stepped towards, nor walked along its direction 
it is clearly there for me to do so 
the decision 
can stray left or right of the way I go 
and all I know 
is that it starts 
before me


Details | Rhyme | |

Five

The light of my life is the tide of the tight
Which half of witchcraft is blight to unbright?
Paper of papal intent in the tent
Fare of the fate to the wittingly went

Knives are nice, but butter is better
A flick of the wrist and a twist of the fetter
Burn through the binder and break down the bricks
The deluge of delusion that stickles and sticks

Ruptured erruptions of singing to sin
Enraptured in rapture by fiddling the fin
Won't will your wont until the wight's won
Sorrowful song of the son of the sun

Lice come less when Winter won't wrest
Sum of the Summer rests in the West
Oughn't the Autumn to singe from the binge
Swing with the Spring of the tingling tinge

Donning the dawn of the bleeding night's blight
Moon dies at noon at the frightening fight
Dust of the dusk falls to slickening breath
Bright light of deep night dreams quickening death.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

VOWS

I SEE THE WAY I FEEL INSIDE,
LOCKED AWAY BEHIND ALL MY LIES.
I HEAR THE WORDS BEHIND MY 
BACK, TRUTHFULLY IT'S ACOUSTICALLY
SAD.
WHEN THE CHORDS ARE PLAYED,
THERE'S A MELODIC HAUNTING IN MY MIND!
LOST INSIDE; THE ENDEAVOR IS BLIND.
STAR-GAZING BRINGS THE TUNES TO A 
HIGH, PEOPLE WATCHING TAKES ME TO A 
LOW.
BOXED IN THE WAY I FEEL;
MY PANIC BECOMES MANIC, I JUST
NEED A WAY TO DEAL.
STRAWBERRY GASHES IN PEACH-COLORED
FIELDS, HELPS TO DEFINE HOW IT IS 
AND WHAT I TRULY FEEL.
FORGIVENESS SOUNDS GOUND, BUT 
I KNOW I WON'T FORGET. JUST
LIKE A GREAT POEM OR SONNET THESE
SCARS ARE MY COMMITTMENT.
SO AS I SHALL FADE TO NOTHINGNESS 
NOW; I GIVE YOU THESE WORDS TO
CHERISH - DEATH BECOMES MY WEDDING VOW.


Details | Free verse | |

Parchement

On this parchment
I am forced to write
That of which I cannot speak

On this oh so delicate paper
I am enraptured
by my under lying thoughts

On this meager piece of material
And this once sharp pencil
I try to express the deepest of emotions

On this once blank loose leaf
That I now read to it's fullest
I find that though I wrote about nothing

On this one piece of parchment
About nothing at all it seems
Is full of something you feel, not just see


Details | Rhyme | |

Scarecrow

Something horrible happened seven years ago.
My town was terrorized by my evil scarecrow. 
My scarecrow was the victim of a witch's curse.
It took me over a year to get the spell reversed.

My scarecrow ate all of the crows in my crops.
My scarecrow was blood thirsty and didn't stop.
It started killing people, it even bit off my father's head.
My dad stumbled around for a minute and fell over dead.

People shot it and used flamethrowers but it wasn't even phased.
It killed three hundred people during its blood thirsty craze.
I stopped it with a passage that I found in a voodoo book.
I spoke the incantation and that was all it took.

It was great when I stopped it in its tracks.
But the victims it killed can't be brought back.
If you have a scarecrow, you'd better stay awake.
While you sleep, you may be the first victim that it takes.

(THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.)


Details | Rhyme | |

Ireland's Journalist Jewel

The dedication of this journalist gem
Whose writing, brought down
Drug dealing men
 
Eire's Sunday Tribune
And Sunday's Business Post
Newspapers of note, for in them she wrote
 
But it was the criminal world
And her writings so splendent
That craved her to write for the Sunday Independent
 
This brave reporter put her life on the line
To reveal to her country
Their drug filled slime
 
To avoid libel
Pseudonyms she chose
To protect the paper, from legal blows
 
Drug dealers uncovered
Showing their ill gotten gains
Irrespective of lives and families pains
 
Threats turned to visits, firing shots at her home
To deter her uncovering
In her investigative roam
 
Three months later she was shot in the leg
But the dedication of her
Thousands of newspapers were read
 
Near Newlands Cross
On the outskirts of Dublin
On a motorbike, two men with a gun
 
At a traffic light junction
With a Magnum .357
Ireland's Journalist Jewel, was taken to heaven
The name of this gem
Veronica Guerin
 
 
" In memory of a brave woman, wife and mother who took on the 
                      criminal underworld in Dublin, Eire "
 


Details | Epyllion | |

Dead To Tears

In the cycling molecules of my mind
Till fate's fingers got us bind
I filter whether you have crossed your kind
Woven with the airs I find
In the cycling molecules of your mind
Hoping you won't stab me behind
So our travel be indivisible as wind
Though the creator captures us from mankind
Let this journey like sun and sky be bind
From years to years
In the cycling molecules of our mind
Dead to tears.


Details | Sonnet | |

Sonnet 6

Now ... tell me the truth at 80 spaces .
Oh yes monthly at no extracted cost ,
trumpet swans announcing "All-New" "Chases"
... Gameshow w-/ only purpose " Just stay lost".
scratch that ... start at the count ... three Faces.
flicker on screen , once more , spider webbed frost.
Pulse of cheekbone ; paper Artic traces ...
Hailing to the Fanatic's RoseArm crossed.

	... Why just imagine , All times // All places ...
Daydream reality clearly embossed 
by Our pristine chords reading "All's Debased" ...
Job to do ... hands join ... Avert as off tossed 
I may stain ... lip gloss ... gulp of life wasted.

All Presents, Our Situation Hostage .


Details | Ballad | |

THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK

Watch what you say rather it be out of anger, stress or plan cruelty

a persons feelings can be hurt just by saying the least little thing

yes its true we all get mad, up set, angry or what ever we feel

but have you ever wondered how we make other people feel

when we know we hurt other peoples feelings we always say

well i shouldn't have said that or shouldn't have said this

but its not what you say its how you say it

jail cells would be over crowded if we got locked up for things we say

because our words out of anger,stress, and plain cruelty kill people every day

so when you feel you want to tear some body into pieces

well you read the poem think about it


Details | Free verse | |

what not to do

most people,
they don't get out of bed
in the morning
until they've heard the news.
or the weather.

all we need in the morning
is bad news and coffee,
tips on traffic routes,
tips on wardrobe.

no one wants to hear about
success anymore.
tragedy always seemed
so much more interesting.
no one reads milton,
but everyone reads shakespeare.

lifestyles of the rich & famous is gone,
but cops is still around.

no one likes to be told what to do,
but everyone needs examples of what
not to do.

i guess even poets still have a place
in society.


Details | Ballad | |

Converted With Words

When the words are right 
they shall float across the vast 
ocean front from day until night 
Spoken in a form so unique 
it make minds like ocean waves shake into the ground sink 
Life poetic until death earthquake this almighty land 
differentiate the word form word you never again will witness from a poetic Se7en King stand
 Warrior made weapons of words 
over love and hate but mainly to make young minds hurt 
We flying sky high no limits yet still living like dirt 
Mind's blind eye staring thoughtless you living for death believe that's the better of the worst so death living is the one true religion of Words that make you want to Convert!


Details | Rhyme | |

Not Worthy

The New York Times won’t publish
All the wedding news it gets.
Unless you are “acceptable,”
They’ll send you their regrets.

With attributes like wealth or fame
Or Ivy League degrees,
The Times may run your story,
But there are no guarantees.

I’ve always know this as a fact
But recently I’ve learned
That even in obituaries,
Some folks will get burned.

There isn’t space enough, they say,
To honor all who’ve died;
So only certain folks deceased
Deserve their place inside.

An influential person,
Or one “offbeat,” even “quirky,”
Will trump an ordinary guy
For reasons somewhat murky.

And so a woman from the west,
Who sculpted cows from butter,
Received her dose of fame while others
Got tossed in the gutter.

A local businessman who was
A veteran and giver
And art collector didn’t have
The goods he could deliver.

The obit writer at The Times
Did let the family know.
“Of course his life was worthy,”
But his story’s not a go.

My husband promised when I died
I’d make The Times – “Don’t sweat it.”
But now I realize there’s no way,
So he should just forget it.

It seems some people count for more.
There is a great divide;
But somehow that should be erased
When someone’s up and died!


Details | Rhyme | |

Crumbs of Deception

...A poem dedicated to a character named Koreen Mae Garson (a lady, not a man)... 

Your love smokes me like a worn-out cigarette Your love blemishes me with bite marks You brush aside the crumbs…now I’m stomped on all over again Your hugs are constricting like a serpent Your hugs loses its passion…my fury vigorously sparks You abandon me cold-bloodedly, now I choke in harsh punishment Your treachery strangles me…you don't consider my screams of importance You snatch away my humility and leave me with the crumbs of shame Your arrogance plants a grave in me…you don't notice that I desire your radiance You ditch me with senseless remarks and you make me feel game You ruin my modesty You stole away my heart’s virtue You bruise my sustaining dynasty You complete me with rue Your conceitedness intoxicates me… Your arrogance underwhelm thee… You unscramble my remains and insert me with the liquid of corruption Your self-confidence leads me to never-ending fate…you disregard my joy You handle me with maltreatment/enchantment and smudge me with your provoking expression You crushed me with your cunning plans, now you made me hunt after my prized boy Your hatred penetrates me with lush, crooked trace You swap me onto the floor, now I’m smashed into smithereens Your smiles lose its splendor...your enlightenment gains disgrace You disown me carelessly…now I spilled your moldering beans You’re imprisoned by the chains of infuriating heat, Feeding off the crumbs of deception


Details | Romanticism | |

Unto Me

                                 What shall thyself do?
                When the night mourns thy selfless brew
                                And shall call upon thee
                                As for soon, ye shall see
                           The blackened eyes of death
                      That lingers past the baby’s breath
                    That shall grow upon thy future grave
                           And ye cannot soulfully save
                                     Thyself upon thee
                                       Of all the things
                             That ye hath done unto me

                                                 ~~~

                                       Contain thyself
                                 As ye shall make a fall
                                   Into the arms of Hell
                           And under all demons' claws
                                   For the horrid crime
                                    Of that against love
                             That ye hath done unto me

                                                 ~~~
                       
                                                But, 
                        O, what a torturous lapsing hand!
             That makes me burrow upon the ocean sand
          And turned the sour grin of the devil upside down
                      That left him to cry upon thy grave
                          Onto which in time I shall lay
                            That ye hath done unto me

                                                 ~~~

                         As I yet wait upon the calling year
                 Of angels to whisper into my troubled ear
                              That all hath been a dream
                          Of the awakening smile of thee
                                      But can not one 
                               Turn thy events undone
                            That ye hath done unto me?


Details | I do not know? | |

Life In Squalor

Squatters acquire the land
And no questions are asked.

Hovers litter the place
And open drains greet the eyes.

Stench queezes the life
But sellers defy the odour;
Frequent epidemic and death,
But the population continues to grow.

Nobody to care;
No questions are asked;
Sheer naked life,
Ever ready for the end.


Details | Rhyme | |

Fords of Jordan

Your words justified your words condemn     				      their own blood they lay in wait by consent  				         of spiritual things not to entice with them                                                                          you know what you said Lord knows what you meant      											        For shallow attempts to lead you astray    				      with pretense made their own speech will betray        			     their rock is not our Rock beware leaven     				      true to thyself their own little deity    													    Their so as above is not heaven          					        no fear before their eyes brothers of impropriety                 			     they swallow the gravel of sinking sand        				 smooth talk took their hand as pebbles drowning 			                                                                                                                  Reaping the foaming shame of a dark land             				         all the while their deeds Jesus is frowning           			                      desperate wicked above all things hearts                                                                          how well you do in the swelling Jordan												                          speak truth in love repent be born again                                                                           divides asunder the soul and spirit   					        He being Truth knows how to set apart          				    make new hearts not of stone those that fear it 				     																


Details | Blank verse | |

Life Is The Ink

Life is the ink
I write with.
Words are the actions
I maketh and take.
Paper is the earthly conneciton
Of where I am.
This pen is my destiny,
For only I hold the key.
These lines are boundaries
Of memories and times.
This book is my story,
Telling all there has been.
Writing is as living
As to remaining is as dying.
History is vast,
Yet each life creates its cast.
Life is the ink
We write with.
Words are the weapons
For fight and defence.
These books are our story
And forever we write freely.
Life is the ink
And is bound to run dry.
Our words remain
Even after we die.


Details | Free verse | |

Face Take Two

understanging nothing 
of radios,
cars or aristocratic
intentions.
...weslipped...
past to
alter 
w-/ out figures
turning from 
an ambigious image
To suggest 
it is easy to concede 
vegence 
behind barbwire fences.

...Years ago ; memory....
sober in the spotlight
saw
Facts that 
are for once 
cherished in a world.

Reluctant to 
proceed 
beneath democratic 
government.
So 
just Hold you 
Breath
&
Break
a foreign face.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Writer

If you want to be a writer, you might as well forget money, forget richness, forget happiness, the ink pierces your skin- in, out, in, out, such a pattern of mourning- it strips all pride in hopes you'll quit- give up- like they all do. You might as well sign the contract of death- to die before any work-if that even is published, or merely acknowledged. The steps of becoming one with the pen, and page- begin with hurt there's no way you can achieve a smile when a thousand doubts are slapping your face. Mocking you so you're locked up in your own world- without a key. The pity emphasizes the fact you're unknown and from that you always will be hopes and dreams are stomped on while you continue to change the world with a single line- 7 syllables; I want to be a writer. Well of course you do- but can you run through the eternal disaster? Hoping you get through without a single scar single scratch, blood only kept within. That's the defining moment- blood seeping through- searing feeling of the climax and then it all ends.


Details | Lyric | |

THOUGHTLESS THOUGHTS

Thoughtless is my mind in this eclipsed night.
Poetic urge has not yet aroused in active yen.
How would I write poem when it is writing me?
Mind has turned into a blank untouched page
And it is writing its reflection upon the sheet.

Without topic a poem is expressed in words
In the soft unspoken shrine of the white leaf.
Yet in the inner river of thought, the stream
Is flowing without motive, as if it were dead,
Though I am seated on table with poetic pen.

Mind is tuneless still creating rhythmic poem,
Hand is numb yet digging with a pen-dagger.
A Poet can’t stop its impulsive flowing hand.
Life can be boring yet goes on like waterfall,
Death is aching yet comes with enticing call


Details | Rhyme | |

~Brandon~

Delicate one
Gossomer glass
We hoped without knowledge
that this too would pass

(For somewhere a rainbow
whispers your words
Bending and stretching
to hear and be heard)

Delicate one
Candle in wisps
Breath to the sky
in a circling kiss

(Shadows were heavy
and troubles were nigh,
and now, without knowledge,
we tenderly cry...)


This is for Brandon Basson, who, I have learned, passed away the morning of June 20th.


Details | Free verse | |

Ashes

We all drift away at one point in our life
We all gottah deal with pointless strife
We all slip and fall on that jagged knife

We crumble away...
we collapse unto the ground with dismay
We decay away...
we abide in the wind and we sway... 

We break down...we droop like branches
We smother the daylight with a death gown...we shed like ashes 

We all sift out our wishes once in a lifetime
We all gottah fulfill our goals in life before bedtime
We all elapse and flourish around springtime
We hasten away…we all crush into smithereens and grime 

Like ashes, we decay...
Until the agony dies away
Until the night blooms into day!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

One For Love

Your sweet breath escapes you and engulfs my soul 
Through words spoken as though from some celestial being 
Warm emotion floods me, floods my very fibrous core 
Love I feel is not a mere four letter 

Word that reluctantly man takes for granted, but more a 
Monument to the jubilous fire you set my soul alight with 
Speak, I cannot, the true magnitude of shear bliss 
Endured by my mortal flesh. With the slightest brush 
Of your angelic fingers. None can know or fathom 
what true insurmountable beauty lies within 
green fields of yet discovered highland plains laden with 
flowers and sweet honey aroma blows within. Feeble 
in my attempts to profess my own meek emotions 
turmoil of my own past colliding with the yet to be. I destroy 
myself knowing such turmoil I cause in an entity 
none like yourself. Meager apology and material possessions 
offer no hint of emotion of love and remorse contained 
My, love, our love, will endure of that much I am sure. Open my mind 
My only wish, to show you things I need you to see. I have known 
No strength such as yours you take for granted. Times as this 
I've never known but with you only would I have it to spend. Forget 
Not the who I was, the who I am, and the who I will be. 
My love, our love will endure of that much I am sure 
 
Monotony & Mundane remain the same 
caught in this slippery pretty net 
we're all falling in and around our own whirlpools 
our upward spiral climbs too high - the higher up the further down 
Fly the same play the same one with the other 
floating always floating 
This sea we've created weaved in the merciless 
fabric of the time we all flock to certain death 
holding the hands of our clocks & wondering why 
our own bleed. double edged is the face of 
a sundial. With each shadow flicker anguish & 
joy death & life exist permanently & are lost forgotten 
by time held by life lost by eternity. 
Let's all rally hand in hand while the band 
plays on 


Details | Rhyme | |

NOT FOLLOWING IN CAIN'S FOOTSTEPS

It's fearful to think
that your last moment has come,
and like a pen out of ink...
it stops when a word needs to rhyme.


Keep off the edge at any cost, death waits avidly
for another victim to be added to its toll...
go the opposite direction where you find a wall
to avert another possible tragedy.


Desperation plays a major part in awful thoughts,
hope is found in faith: read all Proverbs and be saved by their soothing words;
ignoring wisdom is to live foolishly and recklessly as thugs...
why live a wretched life and hate others? Why keep on sharpening your swords? 


I have never gripped on rocks to reach that edge of despair,
even though death seemed real and allowed no escape,
but with will and determination I was able to annihilate 
those evil forces coming out of demons who had no love to share.  


Why be unappreciative, troublesome, worrisome and uneasy...
when life can lead one to victory as it has led many in History?
Commit an evil act, and you'll suffer more than Cain...
embrace love and your fear will never drive you insane.


Entered in Linda-Marie's contest,
" Life and Death...And Beyond..."
Written by Andrew Crisci


Details | Verse | |

Castles In Spain

Drumming from the amps, bristling with snares and hooks,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
Aide memoirs of the past, post-war resurrection, stubbornly,
Wreathed in wires of smoke and delineated by baselines,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
In the imaginary glare, scrubland plains play host,
The homeland of bleached white sonic structures,
Aspiring to touch the scorched stonewashed sky,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
Ravaging the cold corpses of pastoral dictators,
Burying them in gritty sand, interring with their
Emotional fascism for companionship on the final
Journey into the heartlands of the dead conquistador,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
In that hopeless kill zone of love and promises,
That vain and empty body of soulless night,
That reflective insult of scorn and terrible beauty,
Replications of dreams laid bare, films on her iris,
Panoramas populated by citadels of waste,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”)
(“I see in your eyes…castles… in… Spain!”).
But what can I do?


Details | Rhyme | |

Jumping

It should have been simple, I thought once before
To compile a hundred ideas or more,
But I'm finding it harder for me to pretend
That I'm really not poised on the brink of Wit's End.

Wit's End is a place where poor writers can jump
If they wish to end life when they feel like they're stumped.
I'm not one for jumping, but you know what they say:
I'd probably get pushed off in the end anyway.


Details | I do not know? | |

POET MAN ENDS HIS REIGN

Too many words and rhyme
but not enough
creativity
nor style or original scheme

He senses that his reign must end
His poetry becoming archaic
obtuse
Unimaginitive

Time advances his once A-OK vision
As the snow falls in Late January
The hair on his scalp is turning grey
A youth he did knew as his ideas now fading away

It is time to end the Chapter


Details | Free verse | |

VII: Conquered

A single, unnoticed ray of light
shooting across the sky at night
straight down to my head
in our conversations 
it is, as it has always been
between the King and I.

He tells me what he sees, 
and he feels for the unworthy
he cares for the damned
though he see the lies
that are fed from the lies
of the leaders

Return soon, brother in arms
return from the sea, comrade
walk upon the shore
or walk on water
once more for the doubters
the King knows all about us
alas, he has not returned yet
I will know that day
once, twice, more like seven times
to the exact the moment he's raised

Conquered by all of the hope 
of your allies
the few that still dare to 
believe in you
very same as the ones
who keep feeding you
in the outskirts of our realizations
the dreadful dreary dreamy illusions

The King best exists in the pretense 
of pretendness
at the moment just before, your mind intervened
and cast in just a shadow of doubt
that spread rapidly far, and between
this now makes him limited,
now I have my chance
to pull the wool off the greatest wolf
the world shall break its trance
I am now your lord
I feel all the world
I am always yours,
your Magus.


Details | Epitaph | |

A Poets Epitaph

A man as he, so brilliant he would be
His life put to pen, words written till days end
Forever to be known, but with death lay his bones
Gone from sight is he, but in our minds he will be
With days that will pass, through his words he will last 
Planted is a seed in the minds of all that read.


Details | Rhyme | |

I committed hit and run

I hit a child with my truck while he was riding his bike.
Unless you've experienced this, you don't know what it's like.
I should've got him some help but instead I hit the accelerator.
The severity of what I did didn't sink in until several hours later.
Sadly that poor boy died later that day.
The guilt has haunted me since he passed away.
I cut that boy down who was as precious as a flower.
I committed hit and run and that makes me a coward.
His family is suffering because of what I've put them through.
I hope and pray that this experience never happens to you.
I know that I'm doomed to pay for my horrible sin.
I can't bring that boy back but I can turn myself in.
What I did was horrific, I had a lot of nerve.
Now I'll rot in jail and that's what I deserve.

(THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.)


Details | Free verse | |

Murder By Words

A young man lies on the side of the road
Bleeding from deep wounds
Yet there is no blood
Bleeding because he was different
Not like all of the others
Maybe it was the color of his skin
Maybe it was because of who he loved
Maybe it was because of his god
Maybe there was no reason at all
Except that he was different
They did not use guns, clubs or knives
They used words just as if they were swords
Words chosen for their sharpness
Chosen to inflict the most pain
They cut deep without leaving a mark
Maybe if they got to know him
They would have chosen different words
And they would have realized
He was not that different
And they would have accepted him
Since, like them, he was a person
Not someone to be hated or feared
Just a person


Details | I do not know? | |

Goodbye Gwynne

(Dedicated to Fred Gwynne who died July 2, 1993. He starred as Herman 
Munster.)

You had bolts in your neck and a flat head.
Your skin was green and you were undead.
When people saw you, they screamed and ran.
You were very funny and you were also a scary man.
I loved to see you frighten people and make them flee.
But sadly the world lost you in July of 1993.


Details | ABC | |

The Dark

Absorbing
Bitter
Consuming
Decitful
Evil
Fatal
Gigantic
Hateful
Illusive
Jolting
Killing
Loud
Malicious
Notorious
Offensive
Penetrating
Quenching
Relelntless
Spacious
Tormenting
Unceasing
Vile
WIcked
Yearning
Zealous


Details | Ballad | |

never any peace

you take the seat anyway,
hoping to be caught.
hoping to catch 
someone else as gullible.
you ask yourself if it's worth it
to wait until it wears off.
drink & inspiration 
never leave you any peace.
you ask yourself if it's worth it-
chasing shadows into gutters,
following well-worn trails 
to barroom bathrooms, 
flushing lines that 
were never written.
you wonder if you'll ever get anywhere
asking if anything is ever worth anything.
had you caught the chair as it was full,
had you caught the gutter's shadow,
had you found the few flushed lines,
you'd still be nothing more than
saddlemarks on some caged beast.
you smoke a cigarette outside, 
spitting in the gutter.
if the muse wants anything of you,
you decide she can come find you.
back inside, the jukebox just
clicks for a few seconds 
& a bottle lands on your table
& the waitress, jerking her thumb
just loud enough
over the next song says,
"this here's from that brunette at the bar."


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

SINGLE TEAR

SINGLE TEAR
YOU ARE MY FRIEND
THROUGH MY LIFE'S UPS AND DOWNS YOU WILL ALWAYS ROLL DOWN MY 
CHEEK
YOU FEEL MY PAIN
YOU FEEL MY JOY
SINGLE TEAR
YOU ARE MY LIFE LONG FRIEND
SINGLE TEAR YOU REACT BY MY EMOTIONS
YOU SHED THE BITTERSWEET WATER AS I LAY
SIT OR SIGH
SINGLE TEAR YOU HOLD SO MUCH EMOTION AS YOU ROLL DOWN MY 
CHEEK
YOU ARE A SIGHT THAT HAS SO MUCH MEANING WHEN I HAVE NO WORDS 
TO SPEAK FROM MY TONGUE
SINGLE TEAR YOU ARE THE INNER VOICE THAT SHEDS ITSELF 
THROUGHOUT MY DAYS
SINGLE TEAR YOU ARE FIERCE TILL YOU CANNOT ROLL DOWN MY CHEEK 
ANYMORE
AS YOU HAVE CLEANSED MY SOUL AND LEFT MY CHEEK REFRESHED
SINGLE TEAR
YOU ARE MY FRIEND
THROUGH MY LIFE'S UPS AND DOWNSOU WILL ALWAYS ROLL DOWN MY 
CHEEK
YOU FEEL MY PAIN
YOU FEEL MY JOY
SINGLE TEAR YOU HOLD SO MUCH EMOTION AS YOU ROLL DOWN MY 
CHEEK
THANKYOU SINGLE TEAR AMAZINGLY YOU HAVE MADE MY EMOTION 
COMPLETE


Details | Elegy | |

When I Die

When I Die
Let the angels sing
Let the sunshine turn into rain

When I Die
Don't shed a tear
I shall be in the 
heavens above

When I Die
Meet me there
Its the beautiful place
that you'll see called Heaven

When I Die 
Nothing will do me no harm
The bad days are gone by
No more weeping eyes
No more mistakes 
No more going through
the pain that ache me

When I Die
God has set my soul free
Now I am free
My life will never be the same
my soul had gotten weak, wasn't able to move

When I Die
Now I will be able to live the perfect life
I always wanted to live
Now here is the peace
for me where I lay my weaken body

When I Die
My eyes will be close 
But never forgetting who I was 
Where I came from
Never forgetting the loved ones 
Family, friends, and enemies
No matter who you were
I still loved you
Nver forgetting who you are

When I Die
As each day passes by
surely I'll miss you 
Maybe you'll miss me too
Don't always come teary eyed
Remember who you are
And the special things that God will have for you

When I Die
Now I will become a beautiful angel
Pray for you above
each and everyday

When I Die
I will be waiting on you
In that special place above
where its called Heaven

When I Die
When I Die


Details | Light Poetry | |

Dead Poets

when I die
and go wherever
the first thing that
I will do
Is ask the
powers-that-be there
If I can see
"Dead Poets Society" too!


Details | Free verse | |

claiming to have the poets eye.

claiming to have the poets eye,
that when upon looking at the world,
your vision goes beyond the sky.
to see the formation of clouds,
the birds singing,
the insects disappearing.
sorry, sweetheart, thats no poetry of mine.
i see the loneliness,
the cold brush of wind that cuts egos like knives,
blistering tears swept away
to a place neither of us will ever know.
because fall is far from vibrant,
how cliched to write anything about the seasons change.
the leaves are dying, 
turning to shades of brown and mustard.
the fields are not gold,
they are decay.
the trees are skeletons,
naked,
your eyes violating them with every glance.
the sidewalks dampen with sheets of rain,
that cleanse the streets of viruses,
sweeping them into the heads of schoolchildren
and grocery store workers.
humiliated pumpkins sitting on doorsteps,
their bodies stripped of nutrients and life,
hollow and empty.
does assimilation make your heart heal faster?


Details | Bio | |

Change Of Address

My beloved father died
about six years ago
We were "joined-at-the-hip"
or were told that so,
When he died,
I kept getting his
credit card bills,
They grew impatient
for his ability to pay was nill

I got tired of trying
to explain,
That he wouldn't be signing
anymore checks again

So to one and all
I requested a form
A change of address...
What could be more norm?

I filled it out, new address:
Calverton National Cemetery
Area Z, plot  No.2540

And from that day,
And evermore,
No credit card bills
Did pass my door!

Another true tom tale.


Details | Verse | |

No More Mourning

As night turned into morning
Fragile soul’s life took on a higher meaning
As each taxed breathe was fleeing...
No rest for the weary this day

Yet, could not forget to pray...
Self became selfless once again
Praying for family, friends and fellow man...
My oh my, how could this be

Dared death come so soon to greet?
On many occasions it has been cheated
All in all, shall not be not afraid
The body takes its rest and the spirit’s raised

Remember the goodness thereof -- Celebrate 
For none could hold a good life within the grave…


Details | I do not know? | |

A Path to No Where

 A path, that twists, and turns, and, never ends.
While life stays motionless, but hours still make a silent, repeating, tick.


Details | Rhyme | |

Decisions

If we had a choice
Between life and death
Would it make us rejoice?
Or would it be another lifeless breath?

If we had to choose 
To die now or to live for eternity
Would you say your last goodbyes
To see the next life that God has for thee?
Or would you live to see 
What lies beneath every word of every word spoken 
To take life as a simple token?

If you had to choose
Between watching someone die as you are able to do nothing.
Rather than to kill that someone in self defense who is doing everything that's 
something.
Would you do it?
If you had nothing tolose
But your life?

If you were chosen to save
Would you save a child from a burning house?
Or would you be a little less brave
And pass it to go to Europe with a free browse?

Would you do things you normally wouldn't do
Live to see the world at its end
Save a young heart from the massive truth?
To watch yourself lose a best friend?
Tell me, would you?


Details | Free verse | |

Joining the Suicide Club

We have to buy our own black leather jackets,
sharpen our words like switchblades.

Poems are dangerous things.

We shoot them up.
Our tattoos read:
                        beauty=truth.

We die for it.

Watch out for us. We will violate
your daughters with our villanelles. We will
                  turn the street wet
                        with our deaths,
for no one cares
                        or reads these poems
held at our heads.

You call our bluffs, wave back
at us from our bridges, our windows
                              our ovens.

We die,
exploding these poems
                        like seeds.


Details | I do not know? | |

What's from beneath

Unable to succeed in my dreams
A yearning of what I need to let go
Is impatiently dying to be freed
and spread it's wings
I feel like there is someone else inside of me
scratching it's way out-while I bleed
Internally,prefusally
spreading rapidly-like a deathwish disease
But I always make sure I keep my dark past
And my mistakes buried deep
Aching,ever slowly breaking
And piece by piece taking
All of the nothing left I say is a lot
Of everything I don't really have
In denial-I believe
I'm afraid of waking up tomorrow
Drowning in my deep blue sea of sorrows
Will somebody please get me awake?
'Cause, I don't go to sleep to dream any longer 


Details | ABC | |

Lost In Sorrow

Lost In Sorrow
Drowing in black blood
searching for something 
but can not find

Lost In Sorrow
Drowing in black blood 
touching burning acid
burning thru skin and born

Lost In Sorrow


Details | Lanterne | |

POETRY

Our
refuge
in mourning-
to celebrate
life


Details | Sijo | |

The Dying Poet Recalls a Poem

Hooked to oxygen, you can’t recite a line you’ve written.
Remember all those poems full of woodland paths and trout streams.
Lovingly, the words that always knew your name still hold you.



Details | Lanterne | |

REQUIEM VERSE

Five
haiku
death poems-
epitaphs in
sound

Full recital @Requiem by composer Carl Kenkins


Details | I do not know? | |

Sound In Your Mind

The sound in your mind
The word on a page
The common dream
Fading with age

Living just enough
Seeking inclusion
Searching for realism
Realizing the illusion

Striving for legitimacy
Marking your word
Starving for intimacy
Wanting to be heard

Everything's better
When we pretend
That we're dead

Someone please stop
All this madness
Swirling inside my head


Details | Couplet | |

Poetic Vandal

Divided devotion, like once parted ocean
A labyrinth of mere blinded emotion
Beating but bloated, ready to burst
Urgent ache to be free from this curse
Carve out our names, bound by a heart
Together forever engraved on bark
Destined desires, fulfillment somehow
Fortuitous craving must be filled now
Pronounce what I’m feeling on this old tree
Love oozes from ballpoint, but too far from me
My heartfelt gift can’t wait till later
When in death the oak transforms into paper


Details | I do not know? | |

Festus

(Dedicated to Ken Curtis who died April 28, 1991.)

When he starred in Gunsmoke, he truly blessed us.
I'm talking about Ken Curtis who starred as Festus.
He was dirty because he never bathed.
He irritated Doc Adams and he never shaved.
Talent was something that he never lacked.
When people watched Gunsmoke, they loved to see him act.


Details | I do not know? | |

Another Writer

When everything is spriralling,
And all the birds stop what they sing,
And mountains fall as if slumbering,
I remember comforts from the sweet of spring.

And the air it clings like a parasite,
What's done wrong can't be made right,
I guess I will have lost this fight,
Even in death I won't forget this night.

So we carry on and die et cetera,
One can't escape the phantasmagoria,
When all the filth begins to bubble up,
Sway with the sounds of their bodies breaking up!

Oh the possibilities are limitless,
The pain comes and goes so effortless,
Still lying on the floor hardening,
Motionless,
There's no more fear,
The nothing's merciless.

Then suddenly everything gets brighter,
And all the shadows become lighter,
My chest starts pulling all the tighter,
Thought,
Here is gone,
Another writer.


Details | Free verse | |

Sequential Septuple

Cattle-cars filled with Jews,
Hot guitars wailing blues,
Pulsars beaming in the night,
Thoughts of wrong, desire for right,
Cigarette ash- grey and rigid,
German soldier, Russian front frigid,
Masonic poetic words far too turgid


Details | Free verse | |

This Poem Won't Make You Cry


I have written- a poem 
That won’t make you cry, within 
Whose tender words spell 
The magic of love, 
Scented with honey, from 

A fluttering god: a gift- 
For thee, ‘cos this poem o’ mine
Is drawn from thy beauty!

I’ve made my heart rhyme, 
For the air not to die 
Before thy sight, 
‘Cos your charm, like crystal 
Blue sea imitating ocean, where 

Waves ripple, like notes 
Of dancing evening fire, 
Proclaiming thy desire!

Cry not, ‘cos my love will not fade 
Like a vapor and waft as a smoke, 
Though to death we all go, but for 
Us, not tonight, my dear!  Fear not, 
For in this muse- I will rest 

My aroma, ‘cos it was thee-
Who made me bloom, like a flower
On a rock, feasting on thy sacred wine! 


Details | I do not know? | |

A Song For The Angels To Sing

Last year I knew a poet that died,
He was tired of suffering
I wander if he’s still writing now
Writing songs that the angel’s to sing.

I know he made it to Heaven so fair
But I’m still left wandering.
If this servant of God is still writing songs
Writing songs for the angel’s to sing.

I know my uncle’s in the presence of God
I want to know what in Heaven he’s doing.
I figure he’s still doing the writing he loves,
He’s writing songs for the angel’s to sing.


Details | I do not know? | |

I'm going to straighten up

(This is a fictional poem)

For many years I was a crook and so was my best friend.
last week he got shot and his crime spree came to an end.
That could've easily been me who got in the shoot out with those cops.
I've been doing some thinking and my days of being a crook must stop.
It was so sad when they lowered him in the ground.
I'm going to straighten up and turn my life around.
I'm going to start going to church and find the Lord.
Worshipping God and helping others will be my reward..


Details | Free verse | |

Untitled #229 / Friendship

“Friendship is a promise made in the heart
silent and unwritten
it is unbreakable by distance
and unchangeable by time”
Fools! Time changes all!
Even the etched-in words
on this granite slab,
or this very page
which shall outlast all friendships,
will be rendered illegible one day,
all words, all readers
weathered away by the dust of time!


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Princess Diana

(Dedicated to Princess Diana who died August 31, 1997.)

If she hadn't gotten divorced and killed, she would've become Britain's quuen.
Princess Diana was one of the finest women we've ever seen.
The Paparazzi was chasing her and that's what got her killed.
She had a horrible car wreck when she tried to lose them, sadly her fate was 
sealed.

When she died in 1997, it made us all sad.
She was one of the best princesses Britain ever had.
Diana was charming and she had grace.
She made the world a better place.


Details | Ballad | |

Miss You

I miss the way you looked at me,
That one time in the store;
Your eyes were the color of dirt

After you spit in it-
The color of chocolate, 
Melted on a gray coffee table.
Your socks were wrinkled that day,
They reflected your smile,
Dry and cold, wet in the corners,
Your lips looked as though they were sunburnt.
That day I hugged you a lot,
I was afraid you would slip away.
Your eyes were like my stars at night,
Bright and innocent,
And beautiful to look at for long amounts of time.


Details | I do not know? | |

Goodbye Mister Sutton

(Dedicated to Frank Sutton who died June 28, 1974. He starred as sergeant 
Carter.)

Back in the sixties you starred in Gomer Pyle.
Jim nabors quite often got you riled.
Those shows were funny and nifty.
You were far too young when you died at fifty.
You had a temper and you were loud but that's why people loved you.
Millions of people have watched your shows and future generations will enjoy 
them too.


Details | Ballad | |

Who Guides This Hand?

grave, grave
cold and grey
awaiting my bones
to rest some day

forlorn faces
at graveside weep
unaware- I am not asleep
I stand among you
unseen, for sure
but my life-force continues,
it does endure

the impressions I have left-
will fade fast with time-
they always do
but you're not alone-
I'm always there with you

the words are written
by those unseen hands
only they can jot
these penciled words
for I have not...

Hand guided by those
long since gone
admidst the mists of time-
forlorn

for they are not upon
one's mind. alas, no more,
their death, their stillness
of this I'm sure

these penciled words
they call out to you
for a moments reflection,
you know that they do

to mourn, to cherish
to remember oh, so well
I know not more I must go on
I must endure

this pain of seperation now
someday will surely fade
of this I trust-
as surely as my bones-
shall one day turn to dust.


Details | Elegy | |

A Poem



Truest as the love from the heart that beats from our breasts,
That the daughter of mine, Matilda, is sick to the wonders,
who lies stoned cold and emotionally depressed watching the skies
grow bluer and nature's green so bold as she lays  to rest.

Her violet eyes, now to gray, tells that I can merely scarce the pain,
and as truest of the love that beats from the heart in our breasts,
that soul does crave a wondrous treasure that rings so 
Bold but timid and yet it speaks all in rhymes.
She lips out the words, "Read me a poem just one last time"

And my fingers roam amongst a page,
So soft as I read, "Nothing Gold can Stay."


Details | Narrative | |

My Favorite Song

 

The most beautiful and the saddest song I’ve ever heard,
    Was the Old Rugged Cross as I hung on to every word.
It brought sadness the brutal way our Savior died,
   And the way He was mocked, and so viciously crucified.
But His death was short lived,
    His prophecy He fulfilled.
He suffered His death like any mortal man,
    Succumbing to the pain that was part of the plan.
Beaten and bruised before being nailed on that cross,
    The day the world experienced it’s greatest ever loss.
And, yes I do I cherish that old rugged cross with all my heart.
    Knowing that He died for me helps me to play my part.
And the beauty part of the song is where I lay my worldly trophies down,
    Knowing that the Lord Himself holds for me my crown.
Sometimes I see visions of those crosses on that hill of so long ago.
    And I feel like crying out, Stop this madness, Stop it don’t you know?
Then reality awakens me to thought that this deed has already been done.
    Nailed on that cross, Jesus Christ, God’s only son
What He Gave,
     Was probably our only way for us to be saved
So yes I will cling to that old rugged cross,
    For without what it stands for we all would be lost.


Details | I do not know? | |

Monster

(This is a fictional poem)

I made a monster out of body parts just like Doctor Frankenstein.
Many people have been killed because of this monster of mine.
I have goosebumps because this is a chiller.
I wasn't aware that I gave him the brain of a killer.

He has killed many men.
Tonight he will kill again.
I just put six bullets in his head.
But he didn't die because he's undead.

Now he's really mad and he's going to attack.
He has his hands around my throat and everything is going black.
I couldn't stop my monster even though I gave it a try.
I hope that somebody can kill this creature after I die.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

I blew his brains out

(This is a fictional poem. People should never take the law into their own hands.)

A drug dealer's drugs killed my son.
I went after that bastard with a gun.
What he did to people was a disgrace.
He laughed when I confronted him so I shot him in the face.
Now I'm in prison but I don't regret what I did.
That animal will never be able to kill anymore kids.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

44 magnum

(This is a fictional poem)

A man is pointing his 44 at my head.
If he pulls the trigger, I'm dead.
He appears to be a deranged lunatic.
He needs a psychiatrist because he's sick.

I'm really scared and my eyes are beginning to well.
I'm about to be killed by a man who should be in jail.
It's pitiful when I think of all of the people who are turning to crime.
I'd give a million dollars if I could hold my wife just one more time.


Details | Free verse | |

Untitled

My mangling of words
begins again.
I chain up syllables
and thrash them with punctuation,
twisting them into
              emotion,
stitching them together
to offer to you.

Severed letters
pile on the bloody floor.
Keeping only 
the oozing essence of the body
I lay them
        quivering
on the page.

They beg you to read them,
                         (save them),
but they can expect
a lifetime of torture
until I lay with 
my dark mistress
in the earthly bed.


Details | I do not know? | |

Villechaize

(Dedicated to Herv'e Villechaize who died September 4, 1993.)

He starred in Fantasy island with Ricardo Montalban.
Since 1993, people have been sad because he's gone.
It was traumatic when he died.
I wish he hadn't committed suicide.
He was in a lot of pain and he thought that was the only way out.
He thought that suicide would solve his problems but that's something I doubt.
It was a tragic day when he decided to pull that trigger.
He was a little person but in the eyes of his fans, he was much bigger.


Details | I do not know? | |

Swastika

You are a person who I truly detest.
You have a Swastika tattooed on your chest.
That Swastika is a symbol of hate.
It's time for somebody to set you straight.
You should not have a Swastika tattoo.
When people see it, they won't like you.
You say that you intend to start being a nice guy but that's something you'll have 
to prove.
You can start by having that damn tattoo removed.


Details | I do not know? | |

People must be saved by Jesus

If you die unsaved, your soul will be lost.
If you die without Jesus, you won't like what it will cost.
Evil people like Ted Bundy go to hell and that's exactly what they deserve.
But it would be tragic to see good people condemned to an eternal sentence in 
hell to serve.
If you haven't been saved, please get saved now.
Lost souls are what we cannot allow.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Morse

(Dedicated to Barry Morse who died February 2, 2008.)

You were a great actor who starred in Space: 1999.
When I was a little boy that was a favorite show of mine.
You made a great impression on people back in the seventies.
You were a credit to television and I'm sure that everybody agrees.
You died just eight days ago and that was very bad.
When people learned of your death, it made them really sad.


Details | I do not know? | |

Farley Forever

(Dedicated to Chris Farley who died December 18, 1997.)

We loved a comedian who was very funny and loved to shout.
Chris Farley was the man who I'm talking about.
He used drugs but he shouldn't be judged for his mistakes.
His death in 1997 was very hard for his fans to take.

Sadly when it came to drugs, he couldn't avoid them.
They consumed his life and eventually destroyed him.
His demise made all of us feel pretty rotten.
He may be dead but he'll never be forgotten.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Bitten

(This is a fictional poem)

When I decided to go on this hike, I didn't know I would be bitten by a rattlesnake.
It bit the back of my leg a few minutes ago and now my life is at stake.
I've been yelling for help but nobody has heard me shout.
I'm going to die if nobody sucks the poison out.

I'm starting to cry because it's so sad.
My wife will be a widow and my kids will be without a dad.
After I'm gone, will my family be able to get by?
A man doesn't really appreciate life until he learns that he's going to die.