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NotebookWrinkled cover, scratchy fringes
Worn out backing, crumpled pages
Loosened notes and ripped up drawings
Faded color, senseless scrawling.
Lovely songs with twisted meaning
Abandon notes for luck of cheating
Perfect lines like cold cell bars
Keep the words held where they are.
Paper thin and razor edged
Perfect weapon, word "alleged"
Evading pain, weave a lie
Words a tool for those most sly.
Blunt-force trauma, choose a secret
Like a brick to those who keep it
Or slit throats, slow and easy
Words of romance, flawless victory.
InstitutionalizedShe stands before the glass
waiting for the lies.
But they never come.
Because the darkened walls
have soaked them up
on a Sunday afternoon,
and he'll never understand
that this was all a test
The parallel parking section
that no one truly passes,
simply sliding by with a D+
But sobriety will be the culprit
for being too damn hard
for some to take with a grain of salt
As she likes to live.
A warm, charming smile
settles in the curves of her skin
waiting for the lies.
Bad Habits Die HardI wake up on the floor, broken. I didn't even open my eyes. I know what I've done. Me arm is so sore... I had done it again. Without even thinking. Without regrets.
I should tidy up before mother gets home. She works so hard, I would hate to make her clean. Caked blood comes off tile easily with a warm washcloth. My shirt, though, will need to be destroyed. Evidence.
RelapseShe spilled her soul down the bathtub drain
Hoping it would let her rest at ease a while,
But what she didn't know was that each time
It left closer to the darkness she feared.
This subtle message was a cry for help,
Not knowing she screamed in a foreign language.
The only one with the means to rescue her gave up
On trying for the girl who never stopped drowning.
Acceptance was the sword that pierced her heart
Worse than any chastisement could have scratched.
For the only words that could have saved her were
Lies like "I love you" and "Please don't, for me."
Beyond Repair Drip, drip, drip. What a pretty sound the rain made on the bay window. I love the rain in Olympia. It was like an entire orchestra was performing just for me. Nobody else understood my way of thinking. I enjoy the little things in life, like the rain and my cute beagle puppy Maggie. She's the only family I have aside from Mom and Dad. My parents were probably sitting in the living room watching the plasma T.V. bickering back and forth for the remote.
That remote. I can't say how many times that little square of plastic with all it's dazzling little rubber buttons has cost me precious memories with Daddy. Ever since Mom left us here in Utah for her Hollywood boyfriend, the poor man has been glued to the couch, leaving me to take care of my little brothers. They've been all kinds of upset ever since our pet cat Checkers was put down. None of us wanted him to go, but it was for the best. One helluva Christmas present
Streak Of Light In the NightShooting star,
Look up and pray.
And beaming through the sky.
Make a wish,
Before it closes it's eyes
And forgets you all together.
Since that is the moral,
Quick and forgotten.
Just like we all will be,
Once we close our eyes.
So be fast with your choice,
Since once it comes round
Again, we shall
All be fertilizer for the
Grass to consume.
LizardShe still sheds her skin in daylight,
reforming the past:
just how her cold-blooded species would like it.
...of a blissful HeavenEver dreamed of what heaven was like?
Maybe it's a wide field of evergreen grass
surrounded by the lurking forest trees,
where all you could inhale was the damp leaves on the ground
and pines from the trees above, an intoxicating smell
that leaves you high after the rainstorm
Maybe it's in an oasis located within a desert,
however, it is not scorching ablaze,
but it's warm and you feel your skin tingling
a whole new sensation is evolving inside of you
and the warmth wraps you up in a blanket of sunshine
Or maybe it's at the peak of a mountain
where you reign over the world on your solid throne of boulders
the invisible wind is your invitation of escape
and while the slight breeze passes by
you begin to shiver with an adrenaline rush
I could be wrong and you might be right, but tell me dear, what is heaven like?
Owl CabaretIn bright dawn,
hold a daily meeting
among dew soaked daisies.
Their colours speckle
The hum of cicadas,
with white noise.
The colours shift,
humid air fading
to the melodies
of late night owl cabarets.
Theme Prompt - AirIt's a study in duality
Like so many other things.
Calm, gentle, soft, kind
Feathering over my skin.
Rough, wild, sharp, angry
Destroying all in its path.
Air is all of these things
And so many, many more.
Its the pulse of my lungs,
The storm lashing my home,
The thing I need to live,
Though it slowly kills me.
To harness it takes skill,
To use it takes vision.
Take the invisible and
Make it completely tangible.
That is the basis of me,
The core of who I am.
How Smiles Were Born"How Smiles Were Born"
By: Ulrich J Edelstein
Deep underneath the crystals lies beautiful gems of starlight.
The temptations to capture them are beyond imagining.
Only few have been able to reach into the jaws of the creature to possess these magnificent stones.
Underneath the blue swirls
And the reflection of moonlight's grace,
Are the pearls of time.
They have been sprung up onto those who are fortunate.
They have been formed to create a crescent moon of happiness.
If not taken care, they grow weary and decay.
They crackle and shatter
And no one admires them any longer.
It is important for them to be handled with gentleness.
For the future can be presented by gleaming smiles.
For all to admire, for all pearls to aspire to be.
That is why it's important to smile everyday and take care of your teeth.
CreationLove, Passion, Creation
Art is everywhere
Love is Everyone.
Ideas are their.
Those words just limit the ideas of creation.
It not a few word, but many words.
It takes time to create passion, to create love, to create masterpiece.
16 hours are some of my artwork takes, but that is just an artwork.
Time is a key element, but nothing is rush within a day.
Maybe not a week, but instead many many weeks.
Love take a slow time sometime, though very few happen in a day,
Love can take years to make a creation happen.
But creation is not solely on love or art, but many more.
Creation is an ideal, for life, for nature, for space and many others.
Creation is all over.
That happen within a day, hours, minutes, seconds, million seconds.
The time is irrelevant, because every second is where creation happy happen.
From a single blade of grass being grown, to an ideal being taught of.
The secret to creation is that it never ends and it will never ends.
Even if this world is dest
Patchwork Cloudsi stare at the sky as if it
i look as
the sun blinds
and i know there will be
spots in my
but i don't
care i look at the
look as they stay in the same
hug it and keep it
warm and i look on in
envy as i
wish someone would do that to
me and i look at the clouds and they don't
move they stay around the
GaiaGrass, frosted into diamond blades,
was sheathed in the hills.
like breaking hearts,
shattering but physically
when caressed by firm feet.
It sheds daggers,
mere splinters besides blades,
that were stabbed
into Gaia’s breast.
This coldness penetrates Her.
This chest contains a secret
like any other:
a ruby coalesced with worms,
hugging it warm and comfortable,
inspiring it to continue its beat.
This coldness penetrates Her.
Yet, when Frost comes,
these snap and flail,
becoming tentacles of torture
set to strangle the offenders,
those who sought to
suffocate the beat,
those who sought to
make the precious ruby
lose inspiration, lose hope, lose heart,
within the bosom of the world.
Lovely WeatherWalking home is ecstasy when clouds decide to cry
To pout with their big puffy lips and spin the wind around
Creating a ballet too elegant to be seen by the eyes of man
It's simply too bad that more people aren't crazy enough
To reach up and ask the lonely clouds to dance.
The puddles create little portals, through which
The world is reflected back against itself more clearly
And on a rainy day the droplets hit these mirrors hard
Shattering the peace to reach back toward the sky
If only they could bounce high enough to return home.
Leaves cling to each other in the gutters or in yards
Hoping for a ray of sun to pierce the biting cold
Or a wandering child to kick up their close packed piles
And free them from their lovely clumps of color
So that they could once again freely fly.
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