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, 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…

addiction, creative writing, Life skills, poetry, psychology, recovery, sociology

Murderous Trinities

It is the murderous trinities of sex, drugs, and Hennessy, that in born enemy turning friends to frenemies

Yet we still have the tendency to live with the penalty, life torn calamity in pleasurable insanity.

Yet it’s the toxic necessity taking longevity, the fantasy calling you away from humanity,

The purest of souls can fall in to insanity, forsaking all ties for this new found family.

They run the streets insane for a flask in the brain, or a shot to the arm for a smile forlorn,

Or for One bottle of pain to dry the mind in rain, or in the needle in their arms to patch a heart just torn.

Seeking that solace in a self-guarded palace, with the poison in your chalice to hide from malice,

Yet found departed unaware in a household stair, dabbing away tears of a future unclear.

It’s Corruption that turns the malevolent soul, when our faith and hopes are ice cold,

Heart now gone black mold, these poetic lyrics will become illustrations of that searing soul.

Speak truth from these pens in hopes pain does end, for the trinity that lends aid in these last moments.

We can Just Hope our words lead them from the dark, when they hear those immoral horn men.

Because they hear their footsteps crepitating, weak spirits start anticipating,

That this action may free them far from that pain that lies in them ventilating.

The compulsion playing with durability, that fantasy calling one away from the family,

An innate calamity deep in medicated insanity, hung on elements against humanity.

Christian appendix added to a faithful witness, savior’s voices could become lost after a jail sentence,

Can repentance be found in faithful defense, when religious factions have no moral sense?

They are all in slaved, and shall always be slaved,

When narcotics breathe madness in to souls of self-doubt.

These streets bleed attics and decrepit beings, animal and human alike,

Pharmaceutical scandals scar your beautiful child, hooking lustful emissions from their life.

The innocent victims of life battle a sky felt, but not seen or heard through demented trinities,

The purest joys of drugs, alcohol, and finance, dance with songs of lust, pain, and anxiety.

Division is supremacy if one severs and devours, serrate the mind to segregate the power,

Keep them hoping and rebelling for a star that they see, but will always be grounded by gravity.

It is an ugly truth, that people wish to turn blind to not see,

That those pleasures found in fun, can also be murderous trinities.

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.