Starry Starry Night The sea washed over the broken sandAs the tide pulled the waves inland.The entrance of the glowing moon,Parted the tears of the salty boon,Her deep blue eyes looked far away.She, pale beauty, who hides from day.The wind blew the colors to and fro’In the glory of the nights pure snow.The moon's fine maidens of a purer till,Stolen beauty,stolen so night may heal.The old church steeple, like a blade,Cutting into the deep blue shade.The forest with its outreached hand,The leaning fingers of living land.He who tamed this night of glory,With none to know his sad story;She who could not shine so grandWithout th
Edible Dirge The little dreams and aspirations,The fragments of imagination,I’ve kept then in a blue glass jarEver since the day you broke them.I always tilted the table to your direction,Letting the ball fall into your lap like a new creation.You had deep blue eyes that looked far away, too far,Again too distant for me to ever know them,That you were hiding a miserable and sickening end.Sharp slivers sometimes remain in my heartAnd your memory only shoves them deeper.Forcing your forsaken opinions into my mind,It hurts; your Cheshire grins somehow still burns deep.You’ve eaten away at me from the start.Holding what y
Insert Epic Title Here Their crying river, one bold man's willThe hangman's dance, dancing stillThe women's prayer, a cup of wineA caress, a kiss, callused fingers tracing a lineOne bird, a message, the broken flightOne nail, one horse, a king lost in the fightAn earth, a sun…a single inchOne nation, a drought and a poisoned trenchA kiss, a kiss…a memory to forget againFights rage once more, a single sinOne bullet, a coin, one call of death and tearsSoft whisper, a branch, one face to instill fearsThe fire, the wind, a burned down homePoor child that lived to die aloneOne rhyme, a riddle, one wish of mineTo kiss, one kiss, fr
Forgiving Time See you later. Oh, twelve fingered friend:Counting down the hands until I see you again;And, oh, metaphorically speaking, I’m still begrudgingly and hereAnd you’re still far and accused, oh, so far out thereThe numbers of time don’t count down to a moment,They add up the seconds until they can start over again;And just like a child, counting the footsteps from under the blanket,Behind the curtains or in a tree, imaginary monsters take as they play,And downstairs the real monsters grind, from colors to gray.Tick-tock, the lies ran up the lying clock:Yet we count 60 seconds on only ten fingers, hearts, oh, so
Riddle me this, oh nimble Jack Born to break away and to be merily cagedExploring passages of apathetic rageMirror's Alice swallowing pill after pillWinking colors; I am Jack, not JillFalling; Falling down the rabbit's holeInto the reversed reflection of Wonderland's soulIf there cannot be a beast under the bedI'll create monsters to fill this blank headLittle by little, I've lost my sheepSliver and slice, slipped from my keepOne bit for my lover, one bit for my foolAnd I find the rhymes resolution broken rather dullAnd the old rat race ran up Ol' BenWe, itsy bitsy spiders, fine that the rain falls againSo, three wise men sat on a wallAnd alth
Modern Romantic - Nearly Thick and fluid like ink and paint,We can't white out or blot away our mistakes.Cool stone bitten with frostbite patternsLike Tourest in the Temple or Romance,Ignorant of the ghostly stares of the educated.Those who know, if existant, never lastYet we can cling to one anotherContent with memories of happy daysPast.Present.Living.Now.Ongoing.You won't have us dig up these burial groundsNor shall you call love unholy or pagan.The smell of leather is rich organized deathWho sings sweetly as silver burns away at nothing.Words gracefully slice but crudely heal.Only the heartless live on woundless and unscaythed,Dribbl
I am a Soul. I have a body. My Humanity: I am a Soul, I have a BodyYou can tell if I am dreaming but you cannot tell my dreams,I can share so much with you, but I cannot say what it means.I am a soul, I have a body, but the two are not the same;Two Ruths: One strives higher for God; the other, wounded, lame.My body can be shameful but only my mind feels ashamed.My body can be broken, but heart and mind may heal unashamed.My fingers write, but there is no record for all I have thoughtNo matter how brave in my heart, none know how I have fought.
Letters from a Lunatic - No.1. Hello, Let me introduce you to a character in the show. You know, the one whose mouth says "Yes" while their mind says No? I had a dream last night that all window seats are doorways into other rooms. Although some might take that for granted, it means quite a lot when you live in a room whose only door allows one direction of passage. A room whose only door allows you in but never out; a room, in the words of a famous writer, where it's always winter but never Christmas. Look for me the way you would the "Exit" sign. When I stop listening, I actually hear you; only then I know that I abhor you, that I would crawl through any
Let's Illustrate Madness Have you ever painted yourself a color? And everyone knew it but your mother? So much, so much, to think about! We’ve conjured up the Aurora Borealis.Just as ecstasy distorts a beautiful face, “improvements” have fattened up the American race. Despite all of my righteous rage, my movement has been over rod by pandas “Shhh, they aren’t really bears.” Good partners make perfect enemies and one better lover, So, let’s all get along and kill each other! The domino theory represents the communist regime “Shhh, we just won’t tip our fascist pizza deliver
Pretense In darkness it does,It revels, a deep gaping hole;An empty smile.
Language is, like, lame... Perception: Conceptions of meaning; Terminal PerspectivesBorn from nothing, enmity of others created knowledgeWhose ideal was it to be original in the first place?‘Used To’ changes everything, Reflection upon recollectionFamiliarity saves time and eats up possibilities; Collectible ClichésKnow your ‘Shoulds’ like your ‘ABC’s’ just because you’re told soNone understand your non-humanity spoken in every man’s no-man languageIf no one can feel you clearly, speak in designer words made your ownPossible self-expression: Only someone else has written it for youIf
Keep it to Myself I feel a prestige,it’s inside myselfI want to love, get so close;but,yet,please don’t touch me.I feel comfortablewhen it comes to clichés,maybe that’s why it is my soul that is a favorite place,a comfortable place,a safe place.Don’t speak aloud, you’ll scare yourself .Shut up dearly.Shhh.I feel like snow, melting on the tip of my tongueI want to say what I mean, or feel;Let’s just watch the movie,Okay?Get me out of here, out of here; get me out of here…Get me out of here, out of here; get me somewhere…These days are never ending.It’
Legion of Honor It is of war, of the footsteps with their measureless plights. Of soldiers, and their false unity.It is of men,and banners;. O, Heed!It is the Legion of Honor, Of boys, and badges,and some poet’s glorious plumage of death.Their drums are non-the-less florid.Their hearts are daggers with dark brows;for the future knows; knows the rotten and damp shadows of men who draw their blade against the naked day. Nay, not the future,It is the battleground, guarded earth, that knows;knows of the overflowing blood and hairas men make timber of men,all the while,
Mortality What we can tell ourselves, - hurts and ends, ends because-On my doorstep was a package, - on the doorstep of my mind-A package begging to be let in Anonymous and Ominous - quite ready to engageA pretty little package wrapped in pretty paper skinSay, I can hear a heart beat louder than my own. Say, if wisdom flys with wings - I am on the ground alone.The touch of the pretty parcel carried the weight of a hefty stone;So the pounding scared the birds away, and the flying caution with it.If I was ever perceived as clever, then t
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