I set under this old oak tree, which was shaggy and brown, reminiscing about my
yesterdays and life experiences.
I recall never having enough space to progress, leaving me little shade to rest
This tree became my destiny, where I unlock all my feeling and thoughts
It was old with legend of time and branches falling all over the place
In the Winter, I lost it all because of its bareness and cold embrace
In the Spring this tree brought leaves of green and meaning to life
In the Summer, I use this old tree for my breeze and comfort
In the Fall, it began to lose it's purpose, and drop its leaves, and again I found my
friend which embrace my soul, as the fall leaves felled it had a purpose to cover the
grounds with sadness, yet peddles of gold
I set under this old oak tree, which was shaggy and brown, reminiscing about my
yesterdays and life experiences.
I recall never having enough space to progress, leaving me little shade to rest
This tree became my destiny, where I unlock all my feeling and thoughts
It was old with legend of time and branches falling all over the place
In the Winter, I lost it all because of its bareness and cold embrace
In the Spring this tree brought leaves of green and meaning to life
In the Summer, I use this old tree for my breeze and comfort
In the Fall, it began to lose it's purpose, and drop its leaves, and again I found my
friend which embrace my soul, as the fall leaves felled it had a purpose to cover the
grounds with sadness, yet peddles of gold
Loser walking on the road
Look at him and cry
That is enough to die
Jack-knife
Parents old enough to be ancient
Lover of seven seasons
Wishes of love
Crazy old senile man
Hold him tight
Hug him
Jack-knife
Don’t trust the torment!
Your soul is innocent,
But I’ll live to see that?
Do I have the power to go at?
Is it wonder the right way?
As all night on my bed I lay
Thinking, digging up the truth
I still learn the best from you,
Searching for the fountain of youth,
But exposing my true sight,
Everything has turned to white.
Sitting on the old rough carpet,
Gnawing my red pencil,
Staring at the old puppet –
Ultimate strength or tensile.
I shall enjoy this torture all,
And joy in lie I’ll hide my eyes,
I’ll imprison love before the fall,
And I’ll watch forever in empty skies.
Evening softly pours down from the hills..
The birds quiet , I hear the old dog bark
Another day will soon be put to sleep
And again I will be alone in the dark
The scent of lilac now comes to me..
The breeze gentle as a baby's sigh
The old back porch a haven now
As I prepare myself to say goodbye
Never thinking it would be this way..
So many days without much meaning
Hearing the creak of the rocking chair
Now to the past my thoughts are leaning
Each time she passed the flower stand
He gave her one red rose
Who he was or where he's from
No one really knows
He'd always smile and tip his hat
Each day as she walked by
A lonely old man on the corner
Beneath the clear blue sky
Then late one night the old man died
The corner now looked bare
But from a tiny crack in the sidewalk
A single red rose was there
She picked the rose and smelled its petals
Remembering the flower stand
A smile crossed her face as she walked away
As she thought of the little old man
The very next day she passed this place
The flower somehow grew back
A single red rose that stands alone
In the tiny sidewalk crack
Each time she passed the flower stand
He gave her one red rose
Who he was or where he's from
No one really knows
OLD MANOR
THE NEW ONE
LOOKS LIKE OLD MANOR.
IT IS ANECDOTAL OF THE FEELING
TO ENTER THE MANOR.
WHICH HAS GIVEN MASOCHISH
OF LIFE-O.
IT HAS BEEN THE CURSE OF
MY LIFE.
WHICH HAVE MATTERED
A LOT TO EVERY LIFE-O.
AND NOTHING ELSE MATTER
EXCEPT THE THING LIKE
OLD MANOR.
THE THINGS HAS TO BE DIVINE.
BUT IT HAS CRUCIFIXED MY LIFE
FOR YEARS.
THE OLD MANOR HAVE RUINED
SERVENT OF THEIR OWN.
FLUMMOX ON EVERY SINGLE
THING THEY KNOW.
PEOPLE HAVE RULES OF THEIR
OWN.
WHICH ARE NO GOOD TO THE
WORLD.
THE OLD MANOR
HAVE GIVEN
NOTHING TO THE WORLD.
BUT I'LL DEFINITELY GIVE
SOME THOUGHT TO THE
MANOR.
AND I WISH TO MAKE
IT A PLACE OF
LEARNING FOREVER SO.
Another episode of out on the porch:
It is cold out here
That is compared to the heat
Of mid-summer forward
One lone buzzard
Glides on the air current
Wonder if he is a scout
Searching for food
Maybe a young bird
Wanting to be free
Or maybe an old bird
Wanting to spread his wings
And float on freedom air
Soar to new heights
Experience new love
Or doing exactly what he wants
When he wants
He's gone _short lived flight
A crow joined him briefly
I guess he didn't want an old crow
Cawing and interrupting his new found freedom
So like life__ old buzzards
Wanting to fly free without an old crow along
Wonder how long it will take for them to realize
That they have ignored the best that life has to offer
I carved our names in the old oak tree
Across from the old mill bridge
A testament of love that grew each day
Standing tall upon that ridge
They cut that oak tree down today
It's limbs were tired and worn
But they couldn't kill the memory I have
The place where love was born
I used to visit that old oak tree
Each night before I'd sleep
I'd run my fingers across it's bark
Where our names were carved so deep
That tree of love would touch the sky
Each morning when the sun would rise
I'd sit each day to pass the time
As the age grew in my eyes
Though now that tree is dead and gone
You will never be alone
For I've written our names side by side
But now it's written in stone
An unheard whisper
In the dark night
A sense of this world
Fading from my sight
I am going somewhere new
Where I am free to dance
This transparent life
Is giving me a second chance
I still can not forget
The old life that remains in me
It is the pain and sorrow
That can now set me free
It can only get better
After it gets worse
I am pulling away
From my traumatic curse
I learned to love
I learned to cry
But I never learned
How to say goodbye
I left my home
Without a choice
I wonder if my family
Can still hear my voice
I am struck with awe
As I see what I left behind
It is my old self
No one will ever find
I miss them
And they miss me
But I have to open my eyes
I have to see
I am long gone
But I remain in their heart
Their life is incomplete
I am the missing part
-Inspired by The Lovely Bones-
Our love was like a flower
Alone and untouched
It withered away with each passing hour
And thou who fell to the soil
Is left alone, untouched
And with pain and toil
For the song of sonnets sing
I long to hear your voice
But this phone will never ring
And for the chorus behold
I wish a word could be spoken
But there isn't a thing left to be told
As old will become new
I hope, for me
I will no longer love you
But withered and old like a tree
I am alone, untouched
And this is me
JEZEBEL IS A REBEL
REFUSING TO REPENT
JEZEBEL IS RELENTLESS IN TACTICS
JEZEBEL WORDS ARE SOOTHING,SWEET,
AND SEASONED WITH FLATTERY OF INSINCERITIES....
DON'T EAT THE WICKEDNESS OF DECEIT
A STOMACH FILLED WITH MISFORTUNES...
JEZEBEL UTILIZES THE GIFT OF FALSE PROPHECY
SPOTTING THE WEAKNESSES
JEZEBEL SPECIALIZES IN THE GAME OF MANIPULATION......
JEZEBEL IS A BALL OF TEMPTATION DON'T GET
IT TWISTED IT'S NOT A PRETTY LADY DRESSED
PROVOCATIVELY WEARING RED LIPSTICK PRESUING
GENTLEMAN CALLERS....
JEZEBEL IS A DEMONIC SPIRIT BARING GIFTS OF:
CONFUSION,INFIRMITY,CALAMITY,FEAR,OPPRESSION,
DEPRESSION,DIVINATION AND A SPIRIT OF RELIGION
JEZEBEL HAS MANY TRICKS TO WOOOO YEAH BE CAREFUL
OF OLD JEZEBEL IT WILL QUENCH THE ANOINTING....
JEZEBEL THE BACKSTABBER,AND CON ARTIST TO THE HIGHEST
DEGREE DON'T LET THE OUTTER BAMBOZZLE YEAH......
JEZEBEL WILL SQUEEZE UNTIL YOU'RE LIFELESS
NEVER SECOND GUESS THE SPIRIT OF OLD JEZEBEL
People has been looking for the fountain,
Of youth since the beginning of time.
With all the clues and guessing answers.
Just puddles of waters and a waste of many lives.
It was written in a riddle That no one cared to find.
Then the old riddle was framed for many years unfound.
The riddle said it was in a cave two miles down.
Once they found the spot the cave was covered with rock.
But in the riddle the cave only opens at 3:00
We waited till three then the cave open remarkably
It was pitch dark black we lit lanterns to see where we were at.
Finely they can see water and see light the mushrooms and flowers
Were all great delights.
The old man wizard ask how old she was.
42 se said. Take off your cloths and walked through the falls.
To he surprised her answered and love has jus been called.
She called down to her husband To walk through the falls.
He refused to Walk through he rather be old after all.
She did this all for him now she realize.
He blew his life for another woman.
I'm saying goodbye, to our same old story.
When I see you cry, can't help but to say I'm sorry.
This last time, I'll kiss you away.
This last rhyme, written for you today.
You broke me down, time and again.
In these tears I'll drown, for sorrow will win.
I've finally left you, our picture torn in two.
Now my pain is through, nothing you can do.
I see your ghost, your silohuette.
Your miseries host, all those times I regret.
Yet I keep thinking, about that face.
My heart keeps sinking, for the memories won't erase.
Saying goodbye, to our same old story.
When I see you cry, I no longer say sorry.
Our colors have faded, to a solemn gray.
I've asphyxiated, for this is love's way.
I am falling apart, until this ends.
We knew efrom the start, of our time being friends.
Your seasons change without me, yet I don't know why.
Saying sorry, but I have to say goodbye.
I'll lie in the dark dreams, of sweet calamity.
I'm torn by my seams, for you never said sorry.
I'll lie in the peace, of loving animosity.
I feel life's release, as I die solemnly.
In order to stay alive,
she had to be as sly as a fox,
as she lived in a cardboard box,
controlled stress,
an old mattress,
dirty old clothes,
a book or two,
as hunger shows,
dirty water for drinking,
while death is floating, and life is sinking,
those images stuck in her head,
and people who saw her
called her a corpse even before she was dead,
society continues to evaluate,
delegate,
isolate,
then eliminate,
but that’s all they do,
they aren’t alone,
and the subway station was her home.
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