Thursday, February 22, 2007

To The Love (or) To The Pain

One of the most momentous things a person ever does is admit to another person that he or she loves the person. But here's the thing; the person usually doesn't know what the heck they're talking about. They know how the feeling of infatuation works, but they don't know squat about love.

In the famous novel The Princess Bride, a key character is obsessed with pain. He believes that it is the focal point of life. And I think there's something to that viewpoint. Although, in a slightly different manner than the Count suggested.

Love is about pain. Love is not about giving gifts and writting sappy poetry and such. It's about pain. About taking the pain that's going to hit your lover. You take off your coat in cold weather, simply so she can have another layer on. You freeze completely, but she stays nice and warm. There's some pain there, especially as your extremeities thaw. Love is also about holding her hands to warm them up. Love is intercepting all the vitriol that others may spit, and hiding it all. Love is taking not one, not two, not three or four or five bullets, but all the bullets that could ever made in the world. Love is about being a human shield for every kind of pain that you block from your lover. Love is all about pain.

Think about it. The greatest expressions of love are not things such as Valentine's Day activities, or jewelry. The greatest expressions of love all have to do with pain. Not meaninglessly hurting yourself; that doesn't show loving suffering, only foolishness and lack of self respect. No, love is about being a sponge, and soaking up all the pain you can from your lover's life. You probably cannot take it all away; but you can try. If you want to show someone you love them and care about them, share yourself. Share their pain, and if you can, take it away from them. Be a comfort, a sense of security. Be willing to stand a lonely guard, and stay on watch for bumps and puddles in the road. Smooth the bumps down with your hands, and lie down in the puddles to soak them up. Be a bridge over every ravine you can stretch across. This is what you must do if you want to show true love. Warm her hands, do every kindness you can think of. Suffer for your love, not meaninglessly, but with strength and purpose. This is a greater, more tender symbol of love than even the most beautiful ring, or the most elaborate evening out. Nothing can compare to placing yourself in the path of the flames, and protecting your love from the heat and fire. While these poetic metaphors may be hard to understand, I am trying my best to say something simple. If you strive to the true love, you strive to the true, good pain.

Monday, February 19, 2007

A Little Bit Darker Now...(But It's Probably Just The Music)

You're the only heart I haven't broken on this side of town
And my life is just the same old story; sucking all around
I'm pretty bad with touchy feely, but with words, I'm so much worse
Your boyfriend drove to the prom in a limo
I carried you away in a hearse

One night to live down the rumors
One chance to cancel all the secrets
One night to prove I am who I am to everyone who cares
All I can do is fix my mental image of myself
And the world won't bend; it breaks
And it doesn't stay away; it flies with me

Sleep, dream, wake, weep
We go about our days with broken faces
And we'll never know the color of the sky
Or the colors inherent in an apple, a tree, a goodbye
If you cry for me, because I'm a fool
I'll pray for you, because I'll always be a fool
Thinking that I think, believing I believe
I pull life tight, but it always snaps back to sting me

Friday, February 16, 2007

On Valentine's Day And Some Other Things

Well, this year's V-Day has come and gone. And yet again, it's left a strange aftertaste in it's wake. Like eating chocolate right after brushing your teeth. For some people, Valentine's Day is about chocolate. Having it given to you, and eating it. For those people, V-Day is great. For others, V-Day is about arguing with your lover over what to wear and if you'll make the reservation, and who's fault it will be if you don't, and etc. For some lucky couples, it's about a perfect day together. And for many people, it's about being alone. The whole mystique that has sprung up around it makes it something it's not. Valentine's Day is not the day when every one's romances go right. Or even go. For many, it just shows them what they don't have. They don't have someone who will take off their coat in frigid air and let them wear it. They don't have someone who will pay for lunch without being asked. They don't have someone to sit next to, someone who will warm their hands underneath the table. A person who will do all the driving, a person who cares enough to pick each flower individually. Someone who is willing to slow dance to whatever music his or her love likes, be it classical, rap, punk, alternative, pop or anything else. They don't have someone. However, Valentine's Day need not be miserable. You can go eat lunch with a friend, to celebrate being "single and loving it". Those can lead pretty quickly to something no one was expecting. <;) But really, Valentine's Day isn't what most people think it is. It isn't about being a lovestruck fool for a day. Or a lonely possible-lover forever. It's about becoming a lovestruck fool. It's about changing your mood, and making every day sunny. It's about becoming a lovestruck fool, and simply maintaining it if you already are one. It's not about the chocolate, or the fancy dinners, or making out with your girlfriend. It's about the love. The LOVE. The L-O-V-E! It's about falling in love all over again, and doing it every moment of every day. It's about making it past the commercialization, and just feeling the... Well, you know what it's about. <;)

Monday, February 12, 2007

Blue-Blood Blues

A quiet room, a quiet time
Soft music playing, drinks all around and couples on the floor
When you came up and sat next to me
The quiet words you spoke seemed to fit right in
Then I listened as you said them a second time
And they hit me like a rock-filled slipper

Smooth, and maybe sensual
But oh so very comfortable
Still, it packs a punch
And you didn't pull it when it came to me
I wasn't wounded; it was too nice an evening for that
I was more just a little hurt

When I woke up home alone, by myself
With a headache and no one beside me
I comprehended what you had said
"You used to be a good rich boy
But now you've went and gone to your head"

I can ask you to come back to me
But that'd just be asking you to leave again
The muffled music playing downstairs reminds me
I'm a bachelor, I'm well off
There are other fish in the sea
I'll catch one that'll look good swimming in the tank next to me
But still...
The way your hair fell in the light
And the way you did nothing, but made everything feel right

When you have as much as I do
Sometimes it's hard to tell what you've lost
Or what you ever had
You showed me Autumn
You showed me Summer and Spring
You took me away and kissed me with cold Winter
Girl, until you take up lying again
You don't realize how much you can miss the truth

I miss you, and that's finally the truth...

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Changing Seasons And Changing Looks

I'm the most successful failure
That parents ever took their children to see
What would I do
If I saw myself on video, waking up next to you?
We all try to make it through
With hearts, mind and morals intact
But breaking is so much fun (we're attracted to the dark)
Don't say there isn't a tempter
He lives inside us all
Like a virus, invading and changing
Whenever he gets a chance

Don't cry
Never cry for your best ex-friend
Wow, that's one heck of a sunset
Dancing through the city of sin....
You + me = turning it all upside down
And my heart is laughing at the notion of breaking apart
And my mind is already sewing itself back together
Guilt is a funny thing
It tastes so bad, but it's so good
I'm dedicating this poem to each and every one of us people
Trying to do the right thing
But it only gets harder from here on out
'Cause I'd be lying if I told you we've left the dark behind
It waits in the gutters and ditches
Of this straight and narrow road

The only thing I have done is being what I shouldn't
All hearts beat for pumping God's blood
All minds speak for the love of light
And all us sinners let the good/bad times roll
Because sometimes the bad feels like good
And vice versa
You & me & the rest of them all
Let's make some memories, short term or not
Forgetting is what we hate, like it or not....

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Still Living, Not Dying

Dusty breeze whips my face
Knocks me over, gets me out of place
The sun is cold but the air is hot
Can't it all go away? the future is bleak
For an old worn out man
A former musician, now a freak
With glory days and golden youth
All passed by, without even staying behind
To love one more time. just gone like that
The wind picks up, takes off with my hat

A joke. that's all I am
Running willy nilly
Chasing after dust memories
Record labels, rock 'n' roll
All gone from me now
I can't even make it a little bit
Even though I try 'n' try 'n' try
Visions and dreams of yesterday's hopes
Is all I can accomplish

Is there any hope for me?
A trodden on bit of glory
That I could scrounge up somehow?
The mist rolling in from the sea
Blends with the dust in the air
Dirty's the pavement
And clings to my hair
I can't retire from life
I still have a lot left in me
But making it after falling down seems too hard
Who do they think they are?
I'm just like them, only better

Monday, February 05, 2007

I'd Pay For A Movie Star Who Knows What The Word Bibliophile Means (Poor Kids Play Kick The Car)

Find a safe place
Shiver when the earth shakes
I'll tell your family you'll never return
I'm fairly sure you'll be missed

You've doused yourself in our mood
Dyed red, always untrue
This life is the cure to growing older
Because you'll just live as a curio in a tourist-shop
Window

Practice your lines
And try to stop your voice cracking
With the emotion you have no right to feel
A poet broke his heart and his pen writing those words
He felt so tragic....
And you, you highly paid actor
You've been brought in to make them live

You vampire
I put all my life into those lines
And with your rendition
You suck out the life, and lock them in a casket
I know I'm crazy, I broke everything I had
With that masterpiece. You give it your own flavor
The taste of failure

Hide while the earth is shaking
Hide from your gaping coffin
With our friends, angels and ancestors
We want to bury you so badly
How can we make you comprehend?
You turned this poor boy's life
Into a second-rate B-movie

Living this life, you just know sooner or later
You'll catch it (and isn't that tragic)

Write Me Off, Because All I Have Is A Headache And Absence Of Writer's Block

I have a crazy headache
Left over from when I woke up next to you
(Did I really wake up next to you?!?)
Maybe I woke up an hour too soon
I can't stand being alone
And thinking no one else knows I exist
But back to the headache
Headache, hot shakes, and a honeymoon
And I swear, to keep you safe...

Nothing is as it seems
Just shadows in my dreams
Except for headaches, those are real
Besides hugs and kisses, those are all I feel
Lemme hear another melodic sigh
Perhaps maybe you could give me a tuneful cry
It's not right to get so much pleasure out of disaster
But I never wanted you to change for me
And I ask you to return the favor
(But every time the day changes into night
I can still recall that flavor...)

These lights, in houses, apartments, bedrooms...
The effect they have on me...
Excuse me, I have to catch my tears as they fall
And hide them where no one can see
Because I'm prideful, and weak
Sometimes a poet, always a freak
Actually, that's a lie
I don't think of myself as a freak
Just someone trying his best to ignore who
The world suggests he is

Looking out my bedroom window
All alone, except for my headache
And a shade of you on my wall
Angels cry in the reflection of my eyes
In the medium of the mirror
Why do you all stay away from me?
Why are there lights on outside
But none turned on inside of me
Pencil scratches on paper, late into the night
Because the lights of the city are too much
For my headache and me...

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Dust

Try to get a feel for the rhythm
Of living life on your own
My arms are so full of nothing
There's nothing I can possibly hold

Everyone lives until they die
Everyone can laugh, or they can cry
Well, tears can be nice
But I'll cast my vote with laughter
Because I'm too busy to go chasing after
All the things I can't have

How stupid could I be
To make you the only one I see
The world is full of everything imaginable
Or at least it should be
While I believe my fantasies
Everything else is just dust and fairies

(Chasing after dust and fairies....)

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

From The Storm

I can hear the groans of the Earth
Feel the wind and water on my face
The wet grass grabbing my bare feet
The sky is turning grey with clouds
And I can feel my wanting
Like I've never felt it before
I begin to walk down the hill
Watch the city grow nearer
It seeks wilderness to kill
Everything I'm wanting of
Feels like I've never needed it before
The sour wind blows gusts into my face
Pushes me back up the hill
I have nowhere to retreat to
When the world is all around
and only the wind is at my back

I can feel tears wrenching their way away
Walking along the roof of the world
The rain freezes on the trees; the grass; my skin
My hair, my clothes. Something
Tells me loudly, that this was a mistake
Mother Nature is someone else's mother
And she is wounded and angry
And we will bear the brunt of her anger

The wind loses me in the trees
But they trip me up, bloody my knees
I find my way out, back to the city
And make my way back to my home
The storm makes her way to the tall buildings and low houses
This night shall be a long one, looking at the green sky...

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Dream Girl

She's a dream girl
My dream girl
But only in my dreams
She visits me each night
(but only in my dreams)
Last night she spoke to me

And we talked and talked and talked

But it was all a dream

How can a dream have so much meaning?
How can a dream have this effect?
Why can I still feel her touch
Upon my arm? her hot breath upon my neck?
How can dreams mean so much?
Can dreams pull you in and never let go?
I look out my window, and watch the falling snow
And reflected in the cold window panes
Is the memory of her touch on one shoulder
And the weight of her head on the other
How can a dream affect me so deeply?
How can a dream have this effect?
(I know that's it's nothing but a dream
And yet.....and yet....I can't stop dreaming
Not now, not yet
Not until I've drank my fill
Of that otherworldly love, and I will)

Monday, January 29, 2007

Poet Musing

It's all just a stranger passing in the night
It's all just something grey, not black or white
People love and people live
People hate their luck
When they're told it's their life they'll have to give
Hopefully, the years will bless me
And I'll make it through it all
Living like life is the only way to be
Or free
Can't we just let go of what we hold onto?

And be free

Why do you cry every night?
Why are you not happy?
I'd give up a life that'd bring me joy
If only, if only
You said it'd please you
Happiness is a loaded gun
Hot and heavy in your hand
And knowing that there's no one
In all the world, in all the land
That can make you pull the trigger

I'll not pull this trigger

The Goodbyes Can't Come Late Enough

Every summer we make a wish
And every night we try to sleep
But it's so hard to do when you know no one's thinking of you
And trying is so hard when your heart's come through a car crash
And you can't tell if it's still beating

By far you're the greatest story
That I've ever read
And I'd like you to proof read my life
Edit it all, and take all my problems away....

The only thing that I think of regularly
Is you
Every hour, my lady I swear, I think of you
Not sleeping at night is a horrible thing
But when you invade my dreams before I begin sleeping...

Let's go, let's try, let's flip the world upsidedown
We can be the cover story for the next hundred years
With both of us together, no wall can stand
All I want (for now) is to hold your hand

Keep trying, keep trying to sleep
Dream of me while I'm thinking of you
Long live the people like us
Who think simply for the feeling
And think that all there is besides us
Is the rest of the world

Friday, January 26, 2007

Yet Another Sentimental Poem...

I'd cry to move you
But I'd be a fake
I'd sing your praises
But with my voice, that'd be a mistake
I'd choke on the words I want to say
It's just too bad "love" affects me this way

I hear music from another room
Piano dropping tears of ice
A woman singing, softly softly
And she begins to sob
Crying out the words
I so want to say
Pleading with the sound
Why must we always fear?
She awaits someone to come and save her
Just as I await someone to come for me

Cry, sweet child, cry
And I'll cry with you
We can cry together as we walk through the woods
Water the flowers as we walk
Visit a sunny graveyard where little birds sing
Cry as we work
Burying our fears
Cry for the long, wasted years
Cry for ourselves, for our tears
Smile and sob, laugh and choke
Holding each other tight as our world goes up in smoke

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Everyone Understands (They Just Understand The Wrong Things) When We Say "I Love You"

I don't know what to say
And I don't know what to do
Dreaming through mist
And it's all blue
I need you
I love you
I need you
'Cause I'm scared
It's a dark angry world out there
And love is a flame, a match lit in the dark
I want you
Desire you
I want to talk to you, late into the night
I want to cry when you cry, make it all right
But are you real?
Am I real?
How can I reconcile my feelings
With what I should be
I'd love you, I'd keep you
In a golden cage, I'd let you free
Every time you asked
I smile when I see your face
Thoughts of you, are what erase my nights
Love is dark
Brooding like a storm
And I want to find my own world
And take you in it, take you inside me
I'll say I.L.Y.
If not, I may die
That's a lie
You can live without love
It just isn't anything you'd wish on anyone
Even the devil
I hope I don't choke
When I call you on the phone
I hope I don't sob
When I see you in that dress
I hope I don't break
I hope the bottom of our boat doesn't fall out
And we both drown in the lake
(I keep thinking of you, keep keeping you inside of me)

Monday, January 22, 2007

I Wrote This With Truth In My Mind And You In My Heart

Let me talk to someone wise
Because this torrent of experiences called "life"
Isn't making any sense
And I can't get out of this
'Cause I don't know if it even counts as a mess
I'll try a littler harder
To win the game of life and her heart
Everyone gather round
And listen close to what I have to say
I'm not perfect
Far from it, actually
Sometimes when the lights are out
And I'm lying in bed
All my body feels like is a twisted knot of faults
And my mind can feel the same way, too
Please pay attention, cause this is hard to say
I love you, and I feel this way
Like life is so long
And the road is so far
I'm not sure where I am; I just plot it by where you are
I'm gonna take my best shot
And pray to God I come close
Because of all the lies and all the stories
All the songs and all the loves
You're the one I like the best

Saturday, January 20, 2007

The Man And The Genie

Once there was a man traveling through the desert. He had been traveling for many days and many nights, without meeting any other travelers. One day, as he was traveling, he discovered that he was running out of water. He began looking for a well, but he could not find one. Being thirsty and tired from the heat, he decided to rest in a cave that was situated halfway up a rock formation near the road. He scrambled up the rock, leaving his camel outside.

Within the cave it was cool, with a strange scent that the man seemed to remember. Suddenly, he spotted a bowl with incense burning in it. He cautiously looked about, and called out, "Hello? Is there anyone here?" It was a small cave, and he could see that no one was in it. The smell of incense began to grow stronger, and he noticed the incense swirling around in the bowl. As he was watching it, a man appeared before him. There was no flash of light, nor was the appearance dramatic. The man was simply there.

"Who- who are you, sir? I am merely a tired traveler, looking for a place to rest. I saw the cave, and not realizing it was yours, came inside it. I hope I did not intrude upon you." The man stood regarding the traveler, and then replied, "I am a genii. I will give you gifts, if you give me something in return." The man realized that the man must be one of the genies of legend, and that to refuse would be losing a great opportunity. "Sir, I will take one of your gifts, if I can give you something worth it in return."

The genii looked at him with a blank look, and then asked him, "I see you have a woman you desire. Her skin is dark, and her hair is curly. She has dusky eyes, and does not wish to marry you. Neither does her father wish marriage between you two. Would you like them to become accustomed to the idea, even wanting it?" "Sir, can you- can you give love? True love?" The genii replied, "I can." "Then do it, please do it sir!" the man cried. "I will require a price; your finger." "What? My finger? What do you mean?" the man implored. "Lay your hand upon that stone. Then extend your fingers to their fullest extent, and I will cut off your left little finger with this knife." "My- my finger? This is your price? My little finger for my love?" "Yes." The traveler looked at his hand, focused on his finger. He moved it, bending and unbending. Watching it move smoothly, its excellent engineering. He looked at it a moment longer, then replied, "Yes. For love, this is nothing."

The genii led the man over to a rock, and told him to lay his hand upon it. The man placed his hand on the cool stone, felt it smooth underneath his fingers. He trembled, and tried to stop his hand from shaking. Then the genii, with a swift cut, chopped of the man's finger. The man clutched at his hand in pain, and held it moaning. The genii gave him herbs to stop the bleeding, and then the man looked at his hand. He watched the glistening stump of his finger, absorbing the new absence. Then the genii spoke. "Would you give another finger for your love's health? Her long life, free from sickness?" The man thought, pondered. Then he said, "What is pain for me, if I'm doing it for her? I will do it. A man can be successful without two fingers." The ceremony was repeated, then the genii spoke. "A drought will take the life of all those in your village. Another finger, and the wells shall not go dry." The man thought. Was he, who had already sacrificed two of his fingers, to give a third for his village? He decided yes, he shall. For who could turn down the chance to save his home at such a comparatively small cost? "Yes. I shall save the village from drought."

Again and again, the genii offered the man chances to forestall various disasters, until the health of the village was assured for hundreds of years to come. The man was curling up in pain, now only having the fingers of his right hand left. The genies price had started to take on a greater significance. One finger for each disaster, and two toes for the same. When then man had quieted down, the genii spoke again. "Your family will be large. You shall have handsome, strong sons, prides of the father. Beautiful daughters, prides of the mother. And when you are not yet an old man, an enemy militia shall come and kill you all. You shall watch your children and wife die, and then your life shall be taken. I can ensure that the militia will bypass your town....But it will cost all of the fingers on your right hand." The man, confused with pain, considered this. "Genii, what choice do you give me? Death for me and my family, or being almost a cripple!" the man cried "How can I make this choice?" The genii replied, "How can you not make this choice?"

The man considered it, then made his decision. His hand trembled, violently shaking as he laid his hand on the stone, now slick with blood. Though the day was hot, the man felt chilled and cold. When the cuts came, five quickly in a row, the man yelled aloud. His pain was audible, but the genii looked on impassively. After the man was sitting, crouched against the side of the cave, the genii said, "Your sacrifices are impressive. But so far they have been only for your village and family. What would you do for everyone? All people under Heaven's dome? Would you guarantee that someday, all diseases will be vanquished? No one shall ever be sick again? No mother shall have to watch her child sicken and die in front of her own eyes. No more death due to sicknesses. Would you do that for all people of the world, people you shall never meet, nor know?" The man sat silent, then replied, "What is your price?" "Your left eye." the genii replied. "How can you ask me this? I've already given up so much, and now you ask even more of me? How can you do this?" the man asked. The genii watched him, waiting for a reply. Finally, after sitting in silence for many minutes, the man said, "I shall give up my eye. I should take this chance, for it may be one that no one else will have." "Then, I shall remove your eye," the genii replied.

By now, with all of his fingers and toes removed, and now one of his eyes, the man could barely keep from writhing in pain. When the genii opened his mouth again, the man swiftly interrupted the genii. "Genii, I cannot take anymore. I have gone through so much pain, that I should be dead. I am maimed. When, and if, I make it back to my village, my love will love a cripple. Do not ask anymore of me. You have done good things, but I cannot take the price anymore." "But what would you give," the genii asked, "to eventually end all wars and conflict? No more fighting among any tribes, no more fighting among nations and creeds." "That would be a good thing, genii," the man replied, "But I will not agree. I cannot give in to this offer. I can only imagine your price. My leg? My arm?" "Your other eye," the genii said. "Your other eye, and all wars shall someday end." The man began to weep. "This- this makes no sense! All these horrors of our world, and it my chance to stop them! But, I cannot! All of this worldly suffering can be stopped through my own! But, I cannot! This- this is not right, that I should be asked this..." "What is your choice then," the genii said, "Keep your sight and leave the world full of war? Or lose your eye, and bring peace?"

The man gave his answer.

He lay on the floor of the cave, slumping in pain. Panting, panting, hoping the pain would end. The genii began to speak, when the man cried, "Foul genii! Do not speak anymore! I do not wish to hear your voice! It grates on my ears, offering offers I cannot ignore, but which will only cause me pain! Nothing more, I implore you! Be silent! Leave me be!" Then the genii leaned in close to the man, and whispered, "I can do this. Give me your memory, erase your past, and art shall grow in the world. No more madness, except for the glorious kind which is felt by the poets as they weave their tales. Would you give this to the world, in exchange for your past?" "YES!" the man cried, "Yes! Do this, damned genii, and erase my past! Make me forget everything, so the pain shall be erased also!" The genii waved his hand, and the man could suddenly not remember anything. Except the pain. Waves of pain would come, and be forgotten as they appeared. The man could not help screaming. He was in agony, left experiencing nothing but pain.

Then the genii said in a loud voice to him, "You have done much. And as a reward for your services, I will give your back your fingers and toes. They shall be there, stiff and painful, but you shall have them. I will give you back your sight, though it shall be blurry and like that of an old man's. I will give you back your past, but leave you with headaches. All this I will do, to honor your sacrifice for the good of the world, and people you shall never meet." "Thank you, genii," the man said. He then blacked out. When he awoke, he was in the arms of the women he loved.

Another "Lovey" Poem, Cause That's What Poetry's All About

You claim to enjoy being "just friends"
So I try to think of something funny to say
You claim to be my friend
But you're not, 'cause you'd have to be that much more or less
To be hurting me this way
You claim to like playing this game
You play for fun, while I play to win (your heart)
Best friends, and miles apart
Angst is real, and so is the rain
And wind, snow, love and other things I can't explain

Let's try this one more time
I'll say will you? you say I do.
We'll go down in history, 'cause it'll be true
But I'm just looking at this scene through cracked glasses
Broken lenses, a rainy day
It must be the cold church, the raindrops on the windows
And the graveyard outside that makes me feel this way
I pray to God for a storm
I pray for losing myself in thunder and lightning
I pray for summer, I pray for love
I wonder where you go when you dream, my love
Arrogance never healed broken hearts
But it's the easy way out

If I don't hear some rock n'roll
I think I might go crazy
Real music is acoustic, electricity is just lazy
But guitars come in to save me
And being in a bad place just means that a better one is up ahead
I think this could work
I could make you happy
Unfortunately, I don't think I'm the only one
Just so you know, you're the song I know best
And thinking of you makes me forget the rest

Thursday, January 18, 2007

For We Know…

The world spins with dirty fervor
And humans writhe in the mud
Blood is spilled, and wrath is poured
Sons hold guns up to the heads of their fathers
Daughters cry aloud with angry voices
Opposing their mothers, and the world that brought them up
Humanity spins with dirty lust
Abusing God's holy trust
The poets sob in quiet words
And whisper to themselves; how have we sunk so low?
While the rest of the people shout in loud exclamations
"We're the best, we'll kill the rest"
Always coming to blows

Ask us, the quiet children
Ask us, the ones who know
We hide in the corners, in the hallways and closets
We stay out of the spotlight, afraid to say
What we know; that the world spins on
And men sink low
Ask us, we'll tell, for we know, we know

You Make The Moves, I'll Aim The Spotlight

This is my written confession
And I can't get enough of you
But to continue; I'm always thinking of you
Day and night, sleeping or awake
I dedicate this chapter of my life to your memory
And hope you'll read it all
(In between the lines)
And outside them too

I writing my written confession,
But I need to get a little loose
Capitalization just limits my expression
And for the next stanza I'm borrowing e. e.'s punctuation

i; love; you
it's a summertime love, luv
and i cant get enough of you; i cant get enough of you:
i must have you
i must let you go
maybe it's just a fleeting-love
or just lust/infatuation
but i doubt it
when i see your face, hear your voice
and read your words
i get a second chance, straight from God
and ive been getting these 2nd chances
for a while now[you bring me back
to where i feel like i belong]
come on my pretty, powerful lady
let us dance, let us sing, let us act like buffoons
ive waited oh so long to be free from pain
and youre my paradise of novocain

It's good to get out
From under the rock of custom
But patterns are like a love affair
You can't let them go,
when the sunlight plays on her long smooth hair
And she tells you the way to go, and where
{I'm writing my written confession…}