My ancestors believed witches had magic
My ancestors worshiped a golden calf
I'm embarrassed, such folly is tragic
I shake my head and have to laugh.
Today between females and males there are no lines
We say we can surgically change either side
We can power our cities on wind turbines
And Israel's guilty of genocide.
We can always squeeze more from the rich
We know there's always money to burn
No hurdle, no obstacle, no hitch
40 trillion debt, no need for concern.
So we're so much smarter than those shepherds in the rocks
They worked for their money, thought nothing was free
Fought off invaders, and tended their flocks
Could they have been closer to reality?
Wishful thinking blooms-
Petal made of almost and
Inception that won't let go.
I seek brighter skies-
But the clouds keep
Following
Like old adventures.
Night holds my secrets-
Wishful thinking glimmering soft
Like a time worn candle.
I sigh maybe-
Unsure if my heart believes
The sound of my voice.
Still, hope rises relaxed-
Stubborn as a daybreak that keeps showing up.
When i was a little girl, i wished to be a princess that has a king come save her. But does that king ever come? It seems as kings only come in fairytales and never in real life.
Theres all these new definitions that ive learned about like "guy pretty" or ratings, apparently each guy looks for the same features in a girl like light eyes, straight teeth, perfect skin, along with the ratings of how they rate a girl being ugly or beautiful.
I have never been that girl that guys choose over any other female. I've never been given that unconditional love that everyone talks about. The kind where the guy falls head over heels for a girl and shows that he loves her. Ive never had that and I want that. Its making me question so many things. Like, Am I Unlovable? Am i just pretty enough to look at but not date? Only good when you need me but when you don't i dont matter?
I feel unlovable, I want to be loved but I dont think thats meant for me.
- E.B
Wishful thinking
The warm days
In the fall are over
Now I have to
Be thankful
For the warm days
My Father gave to me
Now the warm days are over
And the leaves are changing
Its color
From green to gold
Yes there are some dead leaves
In the ground
Some people are raking
The dead leaves
Couple more days
And thangs giving will
Be here
We will share a meal with
Our families
And at the same time
We will give thanks to God
For what we have
There is no body else that
Made the nature
So beautiful like God did
a violist’s note
to her bow, let’s scale the heights…..
with no strings attached
cute violist’s dream
to scale the heights with my “bow”……..
with no strings attached!!
The white of snow shows up again,
Crystal clear yet very opaque;
It settles softly on my pain
The white of snow shows up again.
A quiet hope begins to strain,
As winter stirs my thoughts awake;
The white of snow shows up again,
Crystal clear yet very opaque.
Hopes, fears, dreams, hurts, and desires
Are all felt in heartfelt fires;
The dreams of tomorrow, the happiness, the sorrows
The fear of loving, the fear of living day to day
All are feelings, felt by all.
Touching you, feeling you, and having the need, to hold on forever
Loving, doubting, and fearing, the process are potent combinations for disaster;
Want to throw out the hurts, want to toss away the fear-
Want to embrace the remaining years with arms stretched wide open.
Embracing life, love, and all the fears
Throw caution to the wind- and began to live- for today-
But, for one to put away the sorrows of tomorrow, to enjoy what comes with heartfelt fires-
One will need to cope with these - heartfelt desires -
I don't wanna be
a wannabe no more
waiting for opportunity
to come a'knocking
on my open door
and the day she does
tho' the lights are on
there's no one home
as I'll probably be
out to lunch
knowing me
so I wanna see
'Been there, done that!'
on my resumé because
I'm oh-so tired
of being a never-was
I would
Wish you
The worst
But yours
Came true
First
Feels like
That red light
Gets longer every day
Though I can’t
Help but stare
At the place I last kissed you
Counting
The cars
In the driveway
Making note
Of the purple bike
Left in the grass
Picturing
The perfect happenstance
That you would be there
With the devil’s music
As your dad always called it
Vibrating my speakers
The slow motion
Of realization
Would cross your face
While my breath
Gets scared
And hides in my throat
But I pretend
I don’t
Notice at all
Focusing on the blink
Of green
That reminds me to take the right road
Just keep driving on
Let the world
Around me become a fast paced blur
Because the things
That are meant to stick around
Will forever remain in focus
A destination
Worth
Running towards
While things
Like you
Are better in the rearview
The moon was bright when we were stargazing.
I thought the stars were haphazardly scattered across the sky.
You didn’t.
You thought they were intentionally placed in every space.
I liked the idea of them being thrown like seeds and you liked the idea of them being carefully set.
So, we agreed to disagree.
Now the moon isn’t so bright.
And the stars are covered by clouds.
And I wish we had agreed.
To let my wanton gaze go wandering
And graze giddily your saintly silhouette,
With wonder watching you and pondering
What wild pensées through my fancy pirouette;
To glimpse a glimmer gleaming from your gloss,
A sparkle shining gaily on your smile,
To steal the lipstick from your lips, to toss
Your weight my way, a soirée worth your while;
To feel a frisson flitter through your skin,
With luster shivering between our senses,
And see your face flush scarlet, our shade of sin,
All this I long for and lust, in secret glances;
So with my pen I wink at you, pining
For your sweet permission. And now signing,
X
I coulda written that song, “Purple Rain.”
It didn’t take that big of a brain.
And I coulda written that song “Hotel California.”
But girl - I do wanna warn ya!
I’ve always been considered at least halfway insane.
Torrents pound ground.
Raincoat over head
going for the mail.
Small dog - large voice
yapping on and on.
Dog now howling,
Lake Erie has thrown
a bucket
of cold water over its head.
It could happen,
it's a very Great Lake.
It's the New Year's boom
with colored fireworks lauding,
the toast of the town.
The proud, old guard has vanished,
with its dreams, yet unvanquished.
Hues light the plum night;
'midst crash and bang in the skies.
Starry-eyed moon glows.
The past's still following me,
but only in memory.
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