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, 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, Life skills, poetry, politics

Social Ghost

Social slavery are one’s to be, one trapped in a social media mentality,

With Hopes to see the next viral calamity, and get high off of negative psychology.

Group think sociology blocks one’s decency, Just for personal credibility,

To give words from enemies, or love from virtual personalities.

Controversy from apparition’s posts, are social gangstas with word boasts,

Digitally cybernetic ammo hosts, with clout from other lesser known ghost.

Verbal chat warrior quotes, are  just cyber bullies looking to do the most,

And watch you sink mentaly, on a computer generated coast.

that delusionary ocean grave, is one’s own dungeon enchained made,

because we must fasten our minds slaved, in to this social media cave.

Can one be demoralize from a wraith, not hear in a physical space,

Just ask the child dead by digital cuts, arms bloody, neck tied from a virtual haze.

That suicidal teen on the outside of social means,

a bright minded gleam, extinguished by socially evocative keens.

These social slaves put the guns in their mouths, And the pills in their hands,

And smile to their peer pressure clan, not caring for the damage caused to their fellow man.

By man I mean child, killed by social media bile,

From once called friend, yet now heart darkened by differing social styles.

They are just long faded memories, who are we to listen to passed graves,

My social media is popping, I can get 5 likes for showing an addics dejected days.

One needs the recognition, and craves that attention high,

No matter if one is in preschool, or even a president online.