--Goodbye--To my Addiction-
The time has come to part,
I will leave many with broken hearts
If one day you call on me,
I'm sad to say I will hold my tongue missing each one relentlessly
I'm not doing this for me; I am doing this for you
I could stay here and win, and not give in
But, this soup bowl comes with demons and nasty shadows
Demons and nasty shadows, taking and crashing my light
Demons I had to fight off the entire time I was here
Shadows hating the way I welcomed every poet with a happy cheer
Demons and shadows whom drown in their selfish everyday pity.
For those smiling on my departure,
I want you to have this wonderful gift
So please copy paste this moment from the bottom of my heart
**I hope this gift brings you laughter, knowing
I've been sad, these past few days, drying up my final soup tears**
I will miss this part of what makes me ME -my love and lust for poetry.
I agree with many I should never surrender to the envy of demonic dust
Giving up the passion that completed a part of my soul for years
But, the reality of life, is the life's I give and given when I make love happen
In my heart I know it's time to give myself back to reality
SO AT THE END I WIN, I'm the one who ends up with an everlasting smile
I'll finally be free from this place, where most treated me unfair & unkind
Free, from the negativity of the few who hide behind a dishonest disguise?
Wait until you notice your soup bowl's going stale
You will miss me, and I will miss you
But, my enemy will miss me even more
Reminiscing the times we spent hogging up 70% of blogs,
Arguing and fighting over not agreeing with many thoughts.
But, it was never the differences of opinions, it was more like---
Let's slay the Destroyer, a name like that should never be on top
So please know I am sad, and this is not the way I want to go
I'm not leaving you because I want to
I'm leaving you because, the rumors are
"The soup is better without the sweetness of the poet destroyer."
The only big thing about me -was my heart not my ego
I never claimed to be the best;
You're the one who claimed I am good enough
You took me in and returned my love
In ways others could and would not accept.
And for you my loving poet friends, and fans
I will walk away with my dignity/integrity;
I can CARELESS IF I PLACE OR DON'T PLACE IN YOUR CONTEST
I guess I'm finally growing up
In becoming the bigger/better poet.
Signing Off ---Love
The Poet Destroyer
(A sad point of view)
I can't believe he has to be a poet
To tell you how he feels
Maybe he does not know it
Words written on paper don't really heal
Do not tell her you are sorry
When your apology is not real
To be or not to be?
That is the question you should really ask.
The man should never call himself a poet
Unless he has lived, learn, lost, and gained it all back
The man who writes good poetry
In my eyes is a man of art
He can paint you anything without a paintbrush
This is the man I call no poet, with a colorful heart
Using all his manly skills
He is way ahead of the ordinary man
Leaving the imagination, filling the soul with chills
He is like the woman who leaves you all aroused
(A sad point of view.)
While the woman swims in her own drown.
She finds herself helpless to suffering worlds.
Without a man she thinks she is lost, nowhere to be found.
The secret of the female is
When she is heart broken
She thinks life is over
Little at the time she knows
Once a woman feels
She gets right back up to be a lady
When the time calls
The lady is stronger than ever
One thing I learned about a lady
You better respect her
Don't destroy her better days
She will crumble you up for sure
If the lady says she is a poet
Than a poet in her
I will never insult a lady
She will crush you where it hurts
A real lady knows how to control her man
A lady knows how to keep her emotional words real
But the woman needs to grow
Stop trying to be something she's not
In time she will know
To give it her best shot
I will praise myself and say
"Woman always come and go."
A poet, she can act and play
With fake words that have no flow
This is my demo to all poetry freaks
Keep it real!!
Nineteen twenty-four and the wind was cold,
When men in uniform entered our town;
Forced us to leave in their boxcars,
Made us believe that it was for our own safety.
With no time to fix our things
We hurriedly got in the box.
And when everyone was in,
The doors were locked.
The place was hell
For not even a whisper of wind
Could enter the place,
Nor could a light shine through its walls.
Our eyes were dry and lips cracked
Plead for just a single drop;
As four nights and days we travelled
Inside the cars with no food or water.
The box unimaginable in its very state,
For dung and human liquid fragranced the place.
Weak-hearted both young and old struggled to live
Even the strong wished not to survive.
And on the fourth day, the box went to a halt!
Survivors were singing songs to God;
“Please end this tormented journey,
And deliver us home safely.”
Light shone as the heavy doors were opened!
We dropped to our knees
Hoping the place was Paradise
But Paradise was it not for we were in Hell.
Ironically, the gate held words
Like that as ‘Beware of the Dog.’
Written in frostbitten wood saying:
“ARBEIT MACHT FREI.”
My mind was puzzled upon seeing those,
How could labor set you free,
When labor here meant
Dying in force and agony.
Jew, work or die!
Jew, never complain and lie!
Those were the words
That became music in our ears,
As we bent our bones
Working for freedom that is bound.
Jew, form your lines!
Jew, the choosing has come!
And in this place we call Hell,
An Angel waits for preys.
Not to feed to its cherubim
But to the ovens decay.
Jew, old and sick!
Jew, to the ovens burn!
As the sun paints the sky red,
A gray smoke danced with the setting clouds,
And in the heavens, the old and sick smile
Grateful to be forever free from the Angel.
On and on, the days passed by
Not faster but years it seem.
Millions were killed by the monsters of time,
Feeding them to the hungry gas ovens.
Then one even night,
I dreamt of food, of home,
Of freedom and safety
And a voice calling me to follow.
I had no choice but to obey,
For in that moment I was already tired,
Sick and losing hope that once was mine
But seem to be forever lost.
On the 16th of March,
I lied still in my shelf.
I slept forever smiling,
With my red babushka in hand.
But disappointed and angry was I
To share the very day of my death
To the birth of the Malach-ha-mavis:
The Angel of Death.
I used to be a dreamer
Growing up within my mind,
I was no heavy sleeper
By creativity confined
I used to be a hero
One day, and then the next
I could've been Jack Sparrow
Prancing between the decks
I used to live in a circus
With carousels and flying cats,
I'd muck about without a purpose
All day out, with Mr. Tall Hat
I used to be a rarity
From anyone else, I was unique
I used to live in fantasy
Believed in fairy tales, even magic
Today, I am another person
As normal as they define
Too scared to be uncommon
Afraid to be left behind
Today, I live in blunt reality
A world of black and white,
that outlaws every little oddity
and punish them on sight
I have been dead before,
When they took my dreams away.
He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died,
he has not been the same.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it,
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain,
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best,
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows
what happens next.
All results of
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
I do not know?
How can I be selfless without being used?
How can I be demanding without being so rude?
How can I open up without closing back down?
How can I speak if you don't hear a sound?
How can I trust without being betrayed?
Yet how could I leave... even after you stayed?
But how can you love me when I won't let you in?
So many questions.... where do I begin?
Memories now blurred, flying through my mind……
Now, I’m trying to repress the days of being youthful and blind.
Every morning I pull on my armor, right from within,
Preparing for a war, that I intend, to win.
If my heart is my comrade and my mind is the enemy,
Then in the midst of this battlefield,
Life is the remedy…
Trying to stay sane, knowing that although this is temporary, nothing is vain…
Learning that there is always a purpose and people will try to corrupt us, and bring you great shame…
Being told that ‘Victory isn't given to he who starts the race the strongest, but he who endures until the end.’
Trying to suspend you from learning to depend... on yourself,
instead making you depend on the wealth,
Of someone who doesn't even know who he is,
while you’re grasping the stealth of your true identity, in your right hand, in your heart, the knowledge…
Never been withheld
Feeling the world come crashing down on you, compacting into a mist of air so cool,
The breeze passing right through, right into the depths of your pores, to ensue,
The burning and broken and fragile pieces of the inhabitants of the earth from your birth til' now..
Physically becoming everything that you breathe, touch, conceive, munch, perceive, every aroma...
And every great or insignificant trauma, reflecting off your skin oh so temporarily, the mark so paper thin…
Physically, THAT is what you are…
Because we only see the physical, right?
Yet, behind every movie is there not a director… a cast?
And behind every painting is there not an artist, combining colors and lines so vast?
And behind every child is there not a journey, a past?
That you did not walk, yet you know that it’s there, not by sight, scent, taste, touch, or hearing... But something inside you, that says it makes sense, KNOWS that all of that is there,
Clumsy days and hazy nights
Haunting and bring me tears
I should stop perturbing
Whilst my heart still whipping
Wrath of nature is just reflection
Of my fragments that created imprints
Within my being that stands steadfast
Even in the darkest days of my existence.
As happy melodies hum,
Underneath, the sounds of sadness come,
Provoking all the sorrow and fear,
That all hearts are forced to hear,
Looking at the glowing mirror,
Seeing the reflection of “Myself”
Shadow less, I stand,
Contemplating the solid glass, imagining “Me”
Hearing the terrified breaths of “Myself”
While inside, I am touching the joyful “Me”
That an eye no longer can see,
No sympathizing, no sympathy,
Through “Myself” I could feel my lonely soul,
Desolated from the incomprehensible world,
Surrounded by rhythms created by void,
That I hear “Myself” continuously sing,
My soul sees through “Me,”
Unleashing the pain, making freedom surround,
But “Myself” comes and interrupts,
My freedom and my soul begin to corrupt,
“Me,” someone that no longer lives,
Someone that tries to forgive, “Myself”
The person that took place,
The person living a life drenched with dimness,
“Me,” is gone,
“Me,” has disappeared into non existence,
My soul is surrounded by “Myself”
Cherishing “Me” by the colorful memories...
Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama)
Breaking down in the heart and mind.
With all regrets that are truly not kind.
Shocked at people are, so painful to see.
Abused with hated and ecstasy.
Violated and directed with torments
Lost of words or comments.
Hatred gushing out of life long experience.
Reminding yourself to become absence.
Coward and scared to even breathe.
Like the feeling of knives unsheathe.
Sharp but not enough to cut.
Enough to scare like a door that immediately shut.
The hand raised to help you is a lie.
It is a hand that slaps you so you can die.
Rough around the edges.
Crawling in your dreams in ledges.
Powered to stay alive.
You feel people want you to take a dive.
Just stop, and fall down.
Hoping to break your mental crown.
Hiding a feeling that never feels real.
Like shaking hands with demons for a deal.
Blocked out, out of your own story.
Thinking that people are stealing your glory.
Ashamed with fear.
With eyes that are full of tear.
Lost in such hidden romance.
Luck has it seems to be a dance.
Moving around in your head.
With scary thoughts and dread.
Feels like you never leave.
So you feel so many that grieve.
In your mind that is lost.
Full of drama that holds you down in cost.
Keeping in the shadow.
You watch people so shallow.
Gut instinct says that life with them is a muse.
When your just standing your accuse.
Society is just so lame.
Like all the people that are in it your to blame.
Soloing life is a brief.
Walking away is some what a relief.
I dreamed of many things.
With beautiful sorrows of wings.
Wavered in a direction that leads no where.
Escaping everything by a hair.
Pointing into the sky.
And asking yourself why.
The cage is so big.
Just enough to put on a huge rig.
Moving back and fourth.
It feels that your life does not have a worth.
Caned by laws of laughter to deceive.
Shackled up to be bent to your will to receive.
When you hope to hope.
A person can just show you the rope.
They have such friendly hands.
Like the deserts of sands.
Dangerous it is to just keep walking in it.
Lost cannot find your way even a little bit.
Just seem like your heart feels dry.
Then you give up and give a sigh.
That moment that you do is just all a dream.
You are really in a ward you will scream.
Thrust upon you because you could not protect.
So what cost you is this effect.
Warping in to your mind to leave this place.
You feel full of disgrace.
With nothing to drink.
Causing your true self to think.
Grief is such a pain with sorrow to gain.
Looking out in your own rain.