[x]

Homosexuality BitesThey found me slumped over in the school showers
With a towel loosely wrapped around my waist
Scalding hot water was blistering my skin
As I bled from an unspeakable place

A hard-handed teacher dragged me to my feet
With little or no sign of sympathy
For the bruising to my feeble framed ribcage
And the fractures to my identity

I think they all thought that I had it coming
As no one was willing to testify
That the sodomy inflicted upon me
Was something to which I hadn’t complied

Boisterous boys laughing in the corridors
As I shamefully limped throughout the day
Not a thought for the pain that was inflicted
Just worried for what my pa

I Am a WriterI am a writer.
Yes, it’s easy for me to fall into a dream.
But there is nothing wrong with being tighter
With a story’s theme.

I am a writer.
That is all I will ever want to be
In the end, my story will be lighter,
And my characters will finally be free.

I am a writer.
There is nothing easier to say than that.
I will never let a story wither
Nor let a story fall flat

I am a soon to be author.
With several books ready to be read,
I want them to have great honor
And wish there will be tears shed.

To HooverHoover state: waking up to sleep
because that’s all I’m good for;
out of work, out of time again
and my brother won’t spare a dime.

Blanket sweat reminds me of this
Hoover state: waking up to sleep
in depressions of this planet;
the moon weeps for me in daytime.

I yank my pockets out, like it's
my country's flag; punch-line of the
Hoover state: waking up to sleep
in my sagging skin on decline.

I've no penny to my name,
jumping out the window (one
last time) makes me worth more in this
Hoover state: waking up to sleep.

Twinkle StarTwinkle twinkle little star
Noone cares just who you are
When you fall the fall is far
Twinkle twinkle superstar.

Pieces of chessKings and pawns are all the same
All but pieces in a game
A stroke of luck
A touch of ill fate
Decides in the end who will be
Checkmate

*Mask*Tonight hearts will beat
Identities are concealed
When we masquerade.

Familiar voices
Behind flamboyant disguise
Recognize those eyes.

2013 Delice1941
13th April2013

The Soldier's Letter To HomeI write this from my death bed
My eyes fading in the light
Drowned in crimson red,
Drowned in shaking fright.
The enemy has won
The war now has ended
And though killed by my son
May his sins be ammended.
For this is Civil War
I cannot change the tide
So from you I implore
Do what is right.

Bury me somewhere nice
Near, and fair to look at
And forgive my son his sins;
For in war, no one wins.

Take Death's HandI do not fear Death.
My life has been long enough.
It's time I take my last breath.
I shall not rebuff.
Death stands by my side,
his hand extended for me to take.
His face is veiled like that of a bride.
This life I now forsake
as Death takes me away.
I do not regret
for I am free of the fray.
Please do not fret
for I am okay.

~Evil creatures~

They're evil creatures in the night
Lurking in the shadows but still seeing there sight
From they're pale skin and glowing eyes
Out there graves they will rise
Moaning and groaning is what you hear
Your body will soon fill with fear

They walk or run in a fast pace
Here they come for the chase
Get ready for the fear
Coming through the door they are here
Board up the windows to keep them away
This is the place you don't want to stay

It's too late now they're breaking in
It's a fight you may not win
Grab you shotgun prepare for the fight
This battle may last all night
Pain and blood come from your arm
A bite from these creatures can cause muc

AveryHis veins are filled with music and with stars.
His thoughts are filled with emptiness and flow.
His voice is made of dusty old guitars.
His mind’s a rusty cog that clanks below.
And these affects and gifts with which he’s blessed –
Or cursed, as alternately it may be –
Are some well-known and some yet unaddressed,
And they determine all that he must see.
But when his veins must open up and burst
And when his thoughts in dark directions fly,
When all his voice can do is preach the worst,
When all his mind can think to do is die –
It gives him pause to check himself and breathe.
May he stay in this world and never

EndlingHere am I, the captive thylacine
Treading my tiger-striped, ungainly way
Around the metal-mesh confinement of my cage
Here am I, exhibited, exhumed
Brought from the brink to pace another day
A living testament, a final thumbmarked page
Here am I, the only specimen
Bereft of mate, of pups, of kin, of kind
Watching the claws of history extending
Here am I, the final thylacine
The only one, the last, the lost, the endling.

Who Was HeHe stood at the average height for men.
His built was quite average.
His eyes were that of cyan.
Nonetheless, he was average.

His hair was that of blonde,
Nearly, white.
His walk and personality had a great bond.
He was a confident sight.

His skin was a delicate peach.
His muscles were quite firm.
So irresistible, a teasing reach.
His appearance had its own term.

One that the dictionary cannot confirm.

Who was he?
That man with his own sea?
He was one without a name.
His appearance was a taunting game.
He was one without a number for an age.
Forget it, he’s fake on this page.

SuicideThere's no blood on her hands
Bullet holes in the door
Nothing but colored pills
And her lying on the floor

You look at her face
There's despair in her eyes
And you wonder what she thought
As she fell and died

And maybe you're begging her to come back
And maybe you're asking why she let go
The hurt in your chest feels like a heart attack
And now you finally know

Maybe you could've helped her
If you'd looked past your own nose
Maybe she'd be alive now
You had a chance, this is what you chose
Now maybe you'll learn from things
That you didn't see
Maybe you'll open your eyes
And rescue him, or her, or me
Maybe she cried a prayer
For the oth

All AloneI'm sitting in my four walled room
Their closing in, like an ancient tomb
I feel like I'm wasting time for two
When all I want is me and you

One WindowOne window is all I need
To see the world for what it truly is
With my mind a system of creed.
My talent can depict or dismiss
This world of goals, so hear my heed.

I sit down beside a journal,
My fingers clutching a pencil.
I will make my character’s life spiral
And send them off to a council
Where they must advance through the next trial.

One window is all I need
To watch them afar a long, hazy field,
Where I can study their speed
Of understanding when they will yield
Of life, itself, so they need to hear my heed.

My character’s goal,
As well as mine,
Is to be whole
And see how bright life can shine
Even through the darkness

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Sleepless VillanelleWhen trouble slumbers I lie awake
In the teasing patterns of a dreamlike mist
And I search for the start of my fatal mistake

WIth red-rimmed eyes I yearn to break
The imposing walls of the moonlight-kissed
When trouble slumbers I lie awake

My bones clench and instinctively shake
My shoulders hunch as my thoughts slowly twist
And I search for the start of my fatal mistake

I cry a river through a frozen lake
Fingernails bite in a white-knuckled fist
When trouble slumbers I lie awake

Trying to live through an eternal ache
With dizzying doubts of a snow-pale wrist
And I search for the start of my fatal mistake

I spread my wings for

Washington HeartbeatsThe face at the starting line at last turns towards my own, and I will my hands to refrain from clenching with my stomach. I nod slightly in confirmation; I can go now (do I have to?), I am ready (will I fail?).
The leather reins are stiff and rough in my shaking grasp, the horse beneath me suddenly a stranger as he dances from side to side, and I hold my breath in anticipation.
I glance once more towards the timer. My mouth asks if I may start, my eyes plead for rescue from imminent terror. The answering affirmation forces me to at last look up, past the blurred white poles, past the haphazardly scattered clumps of horses, to the somehow c

UndeniableYou feel what you feel, and nothing can change that.

Say you're afraid. Afraid of things that will come, and more afraid of things that have passed. Arms might comfort, words might soothe, one foot will always go in front of the other, but you will still be afraid.

Say you're unhappy. Your lips might smile, you might force your eyes to gaze up and out instead of down, the sun might be shining, the sky might be blue, but you will still be unhappy.

Say you're in pain. Undeniable, crippling pain. Your hands might be held steady, your scars might fade, time will undoubtedly pass, but you will still be in pain.

Say you're in love. It might sca

CagedOne bar is loneliness, two bars are strife

Three bars are the twisted pull of a clean cold knife

Four bars bend with the forced attempts of hope

Five bars offer five impulsive ways to cope

Six bars shudder with the weight of the world

Seven bars shine the light of broken dreams unfurled

Eight bars murmur I pray the Lord my soul to take

Nine bars scream the thoughts behind each mistake

The shivering wraith in the shadows makes ten

As every bar longs for the suffering to end

LinksEvery face is faked

Every laugh is learned

Every smile hides a sob

Every tear takes its toll

Every answer is an ache

Every wince was once a war

Every stumble leaves a scar

Every mark has a message

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Restless

by ~Blue-Notebook, Aug 9, 2010, 8:35:45 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

She cannot sleep for fear of dreams
That haunt her tired heavy head

So lies awake and tangles sheets
Locked in her prison of a bed

The thoughts that whirl behind her eyes
Scare her to death (or so it's said)

Each failed hope leaves her fragile mind
Full to the brim with senseless dread

Ghostly whispers force her to walk
The same old paths she'd always tread

Closing eyes rubbed red and raw
She waits in vain for limbs of lead

As the curtain falls on her eerie stage
Of dreams that haunt her restless head

Restlessby ~Blue-Notebook

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

Critique is always appreciated.

~Irkin-Invader Nov 4, 2010

~masvida Aug 27, 2010

That.is.me.

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Restless

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