[x]

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.

lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along

Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for?
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude

False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen

ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).

False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.

False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

WakefulI remain awake with dreams on my mind
and stories that wait to be knit into books.
To never find comfort until my pillows are
stuffed with thoughts instead of feathers
To never let go until I made sure that
the moon smiled back at me
Until the trees, the grass, and every night creature
has whispered good night...
And yet I'm still as wakeful as an owl
afraid that sleep would somehow
grab my neck and drag me to my grave.

bad nightmy mistakes are on my head,
and the cigarettes taste like metal;
on the street curb of a suburban block,
the lights jaundiced and flickering
like drunken fireflies, your reflection
that emanates from me covers every face.

HumanDear Hypocrite,

What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

Watercolor PainWhen you smile,
I turn colorblind.

It turns into a somersault
whenever I gain contact
with your skin,
bare back touching
bare back.

But I'm not hungry
for bedposts.

I just want to
savor each moment your arms
lock into mine,
the romanticism of
the moons in my eyes
and the skies in your words.

There's smoke
behind all those hues
of hazel and your fingers
are porcelain,
but I still love you.

Psychotic ramblingsI, in the eternal void rest,
Am the unwanted thirteenth guest,
Insane, deranged and psychotic,
There are people who even call me sick.

Isn't it joyful and greedy to demand
A sacrifice of strangulation at the reach of the hand?
Cure the poisoned in a prison built of mental sand.

Murder is the solution brought by the resolution.
Is this the final, one and only conclusion?
Better think again, there will be no retribution.

Death is not the liberation, just the beginning.
Is there eternal peace? The solution is sinning.
Unacceptable lies become the truth, the chaos keeps spinning.

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A Slave of HonorI do not mind
If I slice your bread for you;
I am not the selfish kind.

I do not mind
If I share you knowledge of gold
Isn't that its main purpose?

Now I ask
What is friendship?
Do you consider me as your friend?
Or a slave of honor?

Bright EyesI thought I was over you
I guess I am not.

I thought I was okay without you
I guess I am not.

I thought I can live a day without you
I guess I am not.

Although I am not
I am pure by heart.

Although I may not
I am there for you.

Things are not always as they seem
Like the unseen love.

Things are not always as they seem
Like the shoulders of cold.

You are the only apple in which these eyes seek
Who do you see in yours?

Ang Pag-ibig ng Isang KaibiganDahil kaibigan kita, ika'y taos puso kong minahal.
Nang dahil sa aking pagmamahal na ito,
Ang dibdib ko'y nilayo ko mula sa'yo.
Kaya lang bat gan'to?
Pati na rin ang pagkakaibigan natin ay naglaho.

Iniiwasan kong tumingin,
Sa mga nagniningningan mong mga mata,
Ngunit, ako naman,
Di ko maiwasan dumaan,
Kung saan mo ako madadatnan.

Wala akong lakas na loob,
Upang masabi kong mahal kitang tunay.
Datapwat sa loob ng puso ko
Nagdudugo, nasasaktan at nagluluha
Na siyang natatanging patunay.

Kung hindi lang ako,
Inatake ng takot
Malamang nasabi ko na
Ang aking totoong nararamdaman
At sana hindi na tayo nagkaganito.

Pero ito ang

You and LifeLife is full of uncertainties
Life itself is a mystery
Life isn't that simple
Yet it's as easy as 143
Life will sometimes hide
But it's always by your side
Life has its guns set on you;
You decide whether you want to live
Life is what you are reading

To sum it all up:
Life = Everything

But remember, dear
No matter what life has to offer,
A smile is never meant to be covered. :)

My Lovely Little DearyWipe off the blood in your eyes
Love, please don't cry
Beside you is where I'll always lie
Love, please don't cry

Here, let me hold your hand
Darling, do not cry
In my heart you'll forever be
Darling, do not cry

'Cmon, give me a smile
Deary, I love you
Let me have your lips instead
Deary, I love you

Nobody will take our song away
My little angel, let me take you away
Our love is undying, it's here to stay
My little angel, let me take you away

Brown Bread is MeI find myself lost within my mind
For the questions, I could not find
I asked myself, "Have I gone blind?"
Even straight lines aren't aligned.

I killed myself…

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Submitted: September 9, 2011
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Bone and Blood

by ~Beatlesnicole, Sep 9, 2011, 11:35:28 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

The first time you barged into my doors,
I turned up my nose; for there was nothing.
When I came close to a creature so insipid,
you soared with a puzzle that is beyond me.

It is only at that period of time
that I became conscious --
when I discovered that a peculiar being
could be dreadfully awe-inspiring.

Visiting a grave is not easy to come by
especially when you have to deal me.
Having to deal with corpse is impossible.
Why would you rather dice with death with me?

The saddest part of rising from the dead
is when you tug at the heartstrings
and take every drop of happiness
in a distance of which you cannot reach.

The dead could never live in harmony
with the living, it seems --
it's no different from tying the not
with a flower and a stone.

It only seems like it, though,
for I know that it is possible
for the dead and the living
to live in sympathy.

I know it is capable of happening;
for I was buried yet I rose from the dead.
If the impossible is doable the first time,
why can't it happen the second time?

I may have lost the battle in my journey
but I know I have not lost the game
for life goes on and off;
we just need to turn it back on.

Bone and Bloodby ~Beatlesnicole

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Uhuh.

!EmilytheZombie Sep 10, 2011

This is Epic~ You have talent my dear!! <3

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Bone and Blood

Bone and Bloodby ~Beatlesnicole

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