Arts, creative writing, Fantasy, poetry

Mysterious Company

 

He sits alone, inn his own mind, in her own home,

And they wonder why they’re so prone, to suffer through things alone.

They said that she was crazy, they said that he was a bum,

Is the family naive, or are they just the only ones.

Feel the cold of his hands, look deeply in to her eyes,

Behind the darkness of his shades, beneath the warmth of her lies.

They are cold blooded vipers, bathed in hatred, and drown by pride,

They love it when she rises, but they cower when he looks in to their minds.

She wants to do right, the fire in him burns to do wrong,

She’s a snake, he’s a lion, they the conniving pawns.

They are leaders one moment, and followers in the next,

Parents pull their kids away from her, because he will stab them in the back.

She learns your worse dreams, he talks to your foes,

Your enemies divulge information that they use to grow.

Who is she, is he a liar, are they your friend or no,

Is she a fiend, is he a cherub, will we ever know?

Well, one things for certain, and two things for sure,

When you find out who she really is, you’ll hate him, or love them, for sure.

Arts, creative writing, equality, government, politics, social problems, sociology

SPLIT!!!

Split at the seams there’s a line between, the justified and wrong, the capitalists and the fiend.

Citizens can be perceive, as Americans in the dream, but one is an addict, while the other’s star beams.

What makes the serration, in this divided States nation?

A democrat or republican, independent or an unknown corrugation.

Is it wealth against shortage, golden platters versus porridge?

Should one care about the problem, or does one choose to ignore it?

It used to be black and white, now we serrate by the class,

While the lower and middle class struggle, those in the upper classes laugh.

Millionaires and billionaires ride yachts, prostitutes sell hots,

Gangsters bang on the block, farmers crops rot.

There are not homeless people in Chicago, about to freeze to the death,

We peasants should not complain, SSI and welfare are cutting checks.

For we all eat like the Hannity’s, there is no sorrow, no poor,

This country is truly equal, none of us see eviction letters on doors.

There’s an economic segregation, we can’t just turn our eyes away,

While the government shuts down, politics tell citizens eat cake.

Watch the waitress on shift, make a mistake and get dismissed,

While reps and senators sit in a room, make mistakes and get cuffed on the wrist.

Is it equal to tax, those who eat scraps, and sell clothes off their back?

While other’s benefits wax, and they grow more affluent by the max.

Well we present the expression of grief birthed in the weak, with stanzas written in bloody ink,

Samaritans weep for a bite to eat, watch these native’s gamble defeat for a rise in prosperity.

Hear tales of those sheep hunted wolves of the streets, counseling success over ghetto beats,

For a one in a million family to not weep, risen too high from low class scarcities.

Arts, creative writing, love, memorial, poetry, psychology, recovery

I Seen My Body Today

I see my body today,

Crisp in tux laid down in grave,

People praying lost in a haze, lamenting in deep dismay,

Preacher praying for better days.

I felt my body today,

Smooth and cold, no breath to breathe

Eyes wide shut, no longer bereaved

On my way, the lord let me leave.

I felt my heart today,

Love once felt when you were near,

When you went I cried my tears,

To be in your place, was my deepest cheer.

I heard my voice today,

Recordings of us singing, birthday wishes and holiday joy,

Memories of you lost, used to fill the void.

Mistletoe kissing, unwrapping gifts with the girls and boys.

I saw my soul today,

Angels held my hands, as I drifted away,

My last breath was back, with tears on my face,

I do want to see you, yet just not to day.

I felt my body today,

A miracle happen, I can move my limbs,

I feel the hugs, of family and friends,

The pill did not take me, God brought me back again.

I read your diary today,

You told me to be happy, and not to throw my life away,

I smiled at the thought, of how you always know me,

I can live with your memory, until it’s truly my day.

I heard your prayer today,

You brought me back, from my disparity,

Foolish was I, to rush to your grave,

I placed this rose on your chest, for thanks of protecting me.

When I saw my body that day,

At that time, I didn’t know that you were watching over me.

 

Arts, creative writing, Fantasy, poetry

Deception

Dragon breathe in strengthened skin, magic purest from the soul within,

Deep blue Scales of ice tie claws of sin, heart rant pain from furtive gin.

Bone of steel holds blood of iron, demon’s curse keeps fire held by andiron,

Thy beast of depth not seen by eye, yet spirit felt shall make infants cry.

Caged in the tomb chain by prayers, in idol wait for sworn slayer,

Screams of fallen whom taxed and failed, by merely a glance or sound in air.

Here comes woman as knight with arm bared, with beauty mind beneath silver hair,

Asked by the town to extinguish foe, for jewels and riches like river flow.

Yet she says not to coins and jewels with hidden pride, yet for love and revenge shall she ride,

In to the dark where fate is unknown, yet a book from thy cave will be her atone.

Secret texts which depths she knows of her own, foolish residents know not thy precious tome,

Yet she’ll be the one who defeats the beast, then pluck from its maw this tasty feast.

The knowledge she’s searched for, sense the day of pain she thought was at death’s door,

The cursed gin who took her son, and trapped him in this cage out the sun.

Through the forests she slinks, like the mythological sphinx,

In to the mountain she creeps, quiet as the serpent’s sneak.

Yet the silence is for not, for the beast has quickly caught,

The fragrance of his loved one, who he was told he had lost.

Here is the Knight of beauty versus the beast of the land, tricked by the devils malevolent hand,

Will we ever not fall victim, to the words and deceptions of other men?

Arts, creative writing, equality, poetry, psychology, social problems, sociology

Hidden Minds

A wide open window yet with everlasting blinds, a faint trace of light locked in the veiled mind,

Darkness dances with dirt lost in time, whilst regrets bathe clean hopeful thoughts for the divine.

Those secrets locked behind private lips, avoiding purest notions of demonic decline,

Close doors hide truths, confused lives cannot yet define.

Yet empowered is the one who will rise amongst the rest, clothed in the armor of pride not stressed,

By opinions of others who tare self-esteem with their edges of jest, sharpen by what they think is best.

Because at the end of this path is a golden crest, if one soldier cannot but chance the quest,

To bring secrets of some to the front of the nest, and face suicidal assaults with just merely a vest.

For this world has jewels in hands of fools, with closed minds too focused on olden rules,

Equipped with religious tools and social pools, one would not splash within for fear of ghouls.

That tell them designs birthed in the past, when vestiges of bones breathed life not gas,

Will we ever be free from that religious mask, that hides behind untouchable glass?

Monopolizing the principles of nations and countries, throughout loved ones and friends,

Who live by deified customs, engraved deep in women and men?

Panicking innocent citizens, who just want to be free again?

And not be judged by their poverty or sexuality, nor the color of their skin…

Arts, creative writing, Life skills, poetry, psychology, sociology

Maybe I just Drink to Get Drunk

Maybe I just drink, drink, drink til I’m drunk,

Then I have no emotions, I’ll say what she wants,

If I have a problem, I’ll just leave it undone,

because maybe I just want  to drink drink drink to have fun.

 

It started in a dark curtained hotel room, or maybe at the bar with a glass of wine,

She asked how I was, and I told her quite fine,

She reached and touch my shoulder, or was that me,

She bought me a shot, I thought it was sympathy.

 

We started talking politics, and she sounded like me,

Her voice told of struggles deep, that I couldn’t see,

I want to relate, yet my mind’s in a bind,

I can only think of gripping her behind?

 

Maybe I just drink, drink, drink til I’m drunk,

Then I have no emotions, I’ll do what I want,

If I have a problem, I’ll just leave it undone,

because maybe I just want  to drink drink drink to have fun.

 

We stepped outside the bar, or was it a van,

I got real excited, because she was holding my hand,

She took me to a doorway, and I just walked on through,

She sat me on the couch, or maybe she threw?

 

Doc I know I’m rambling, yet hears the sad truth,

I have know idea of what, she wanted to do,

In a haze lost, without a plan,

She started reaching for my clothes, I knocked away her hand.

 

Maybe I just drink, drink, drink til I’m drunk,

Then I have no emotions, I’ll do what she wants,

If I have a problem, I’ll just leave it undone,

because maybe I just want  to drink drink drink to have fun.

 

I’m supposed to be a man, I’ve hidden my feelings inside,

Yet here’s the honest truth doc, at night I still cry,

Anxiety has me raddled, a depression so deep it flows out my eyes,

If I tell my family, and they leave I will die.

 

So Maybe I just drink, drink, drink til I’m drunk,

Then I have no emotions, I’ll speak to no one,

If I have a problem, I’ll just leave it undone,

because maybe I just want  to drink, drink, drink just to run.