whatever this.
Category: Writing and Poetry

in the darkest hours
when others lay down their weapons

my spirit heaves
with a vision of another like me.

8:56 PM - 0 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Woe Is Me...La De De

My body is a prison
and inside my skin
there is something so wicked
lingering just beyond the light of day,
only slightly past rightousness and purity.

At night I lie awake for endless hours
wandering the corridors
of my mind,
silently begging my God for forgiveness
because I know that my dreams alone are sins.

It is as if yet another ghost
has risen from its murky abysmal rest
to haunt me so blithely.
If only a moment of peace could be spared
in my existence I would find a way to overcome.

1:20 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

JOB

I need a job so bad. I have been applying to like ten places a day and I don't have one. 

5:21 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Flamingo
Category: Writing and Poetry

I have a pink plastic flamingo in my backyard
and every morning when I wake up
it is facing in a different direction.
What kind of person hops over someone's fence
only to change the positioning of her lawn ornaments?

8:55 PM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Marionettes [Honestly...]
Category: Writing and Poetry

honestly i do wish my puppets' strings wouldn't
get so tangled
(over which i just get so frazzled).

in spite of their mindlessness,
they are still quite impossible to maintain at times.

10:35 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Little Red Riding Hood
Category: Writing and Poetry

Little Red was riding through the Hood
on the way to Grandma's house for a visit,
when all of a sudden,
the Big Bad Wolf came along
and devoured all of her sweets.

10:37 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

The Hand in the Forest
Category: Writing and Poetry

Recently I went for a walk in the forest
and stumbled upon a aesthetically pleasing right hand,
cleanly severed at the wrist.
It was bound directly to a mound of dirt by heavy chains
and was struggling blindly to get free,
nails digging at the iron locks
cuticles tearing, knuckles bloodied.
To the hand's right side was a key- THE KEY.
It was plain and gold, nondescript, not uncommon or anything.
Deliberately I picked up the key
and walked over to the now weary creature,
and placed the key in its palm...Nothing.
Where was its desire for deliverance?
It lay in the dirt, soiled,  the key to freedom within reach
and did nothing but spasm and twitch with weakness.
I picked up the key and unlocked the chains
that bound the hand to the dirt, and kept it soiled.
Together we left the iniquity of the woods.

12:56 PM - 1 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment

Apathetic
Category: Writing and Poetry

at times i feel as if
    i have
    no feelings at all.

12:47 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

title???

mist from a rain
earlier in the day
leaves a low cloud
hanging over the mountain

like hostility
after a stormy controversy.

7:17 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Humility
Category: Writing and Poetry

a jester
best not jest
at his king
but remember
that he is
just a plaything.

5:46 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment