Archive for February, 2011

hall graphic

I like my quiet corridors:
lonely walls in shades of gray
lined with closed doors,
carpet lit in streaks of day.

Here my secrets sleep,
undisturbed by curious eyes,
Here my words may weep,
and end in unquestioned sighs.

Footsteps come and go,
I listen lying on the floor
Memories so long ago
drift in and out like before.

I whisper into the air,
My name rolls off my tongue,
takes two for an affair,
Alone my soul is young.

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We are not always told what to do–
or do what we are told to do–
For unlike other species, we fight ourselves
thus the power of mirrors
when wish to see beneath the skin.

Even so there are many among us,
live and die most tragically
when the end holds no meaning
from an empty, wasteful existence.

If you see a wall, remember this
it is an illusion, there are no walls,
break your knuckles if you must,
do not remain still,
that room will shrink into a blackness
until you find yourself swallowed by dirt.

Get out, get out, you must get out

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Bloody Mary stains tabletops
She should not wear white,
Full-bloomed moon hanged at night
Bony fingers on her neck.
Pressed into gel-filled mold
A model on display,
The killer and his book of dreams
One check-mark at a time
The trees shake off another leaf,
Another life shook out.
Brother to those he carved,
Lightning split the trees.

Forgive, forgive the old memories,
They never meant any harm,
Though lies were spanked out of you
They loved you too–
even you

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wind graphic

Embraced by gales of Fate
When Life becomes deadweight,
Fling myself at opened doors
Lust for that first breath ashore.

Jump before first doubt sets in
Dance before the thoughts begin,
Roar when voice too small to squeak
Laugh before the world turns bleak.

Swallow fear with bitten tongue
Test the waters of songs unsung,
Ride the waves without regret
to whatever end behind sunset

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Hair whipped about her exposed neck
She faced the wind with fire within,
From the heart an orange speck,
Hair whipped about her exposed neck,
She waved away the roaring threat,
Strolled along with a silent grin,
Hair whipped about her exposed neck
She face the wind with fire within.

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We tried
We did,
Those were beautiful times,
I savor those moments
Filled with laughter and joy.

Up and up
Step by step
He guided me with caution
never wanting me to fall.

He pulled one day
my foot was stuck,
he pulled again
I broke down.

He was ready
to embrace everything,
but I felt lost
out of the blue,
I was floating away
I needed the ground.

Time will decide
if when this cloud leaves,
I will return the same
and embrace the lad.

I thank him for his kindness
and for his gratitude.
but I feel guilty even more,
a villain lost in doubts.

We will see
I will see,
We are both still very young

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The heartbreaker, often seen as cruel
is merciful–
I write as one–
though it pains me much.

I was never a villain or anything close
till now,
I hear the sobs,
and my heart breaks as well.

I had swooped into an adventure
out of curiosity,
accepted a world,
but never realized the piece left out.

Then a light bulb began to glimmer again–
I found the unfinished,
and then came the guilt,
like razors tore my mind apart.

Who was the prisoner? Me or the heartbroken,
self-promises had surfaced;
I knew what that meant,
thus I grew to deeply loath myself.

It ate at me as I pondered for options,
spare the lad with harsh truth
or opt for softer lies,
both against my better nature

Unable to sleep to the sound of my breaths
I fill my ears with drums,
What kinder way is there
to pierce such a beautiful heart.

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Unlike the tales of quiet closures,
One fell swoop
burst bubbling blood,
too late to sew the flesh of lips,
They open and scream bloody murder.

Strangers spat at an unclothed boy,
Fear against fear–
But who feared more?
Flood season rises from Hell
He dives to a rushing morgue.

Shine! Beacon shine! Away you alien dreamers!
This is no Eden–
Here the hearts of men die,
Reborn as forgotten demons
Guards of Pandora’s box.

Tales are spun from patterned lies,
Once unraveled, Lies begin
Truth is too sullen to remain alive
But which is better, which indeed,
I remember first, “Know thyself”

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Price of a Breaking Mirror 156

dream graphic

I find myself in a dark place
Unraveling a bitter taste
Sticking needles in swollen tissue
Slowly going to waste.
Punctured lungs heave in and out
Shriveling breath by breath
I kiss away the light of day
Embracing most welcomed death.

Mirror, crack a little more
Deeper the water grows,
My soul was never saved, was it?
Too many debts I owe.

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