A cure for hateA cure for hate
Is ascension, contaminate the sickness with the light of archons
and angels gleaming from the inside of our throats.
Twisting our lies, into the flies spewing forth
with rainbow lice burrowing deep into the black ice.
Is a moment of disbelief, stricken on our faces,
as the immutable stone turns to ivory mirrors,
we see the conditions collapsing around us
decay, and the brutal decisions to coerce doves into vultures.
Is realization, collecting in our dustpans,
sweeping up the cooking oil splashed on the floor,
left over from a bubble bursting like a pinata,
blinking and open mouths swallow entire rabbits.
Is a well spring, yearning forth from the divide,
the connection that fills with butterflies fluttering
ignoring the swarms only to rise above the mess,
and weaving a tapestry of shining threads in the sky.
A cure for hate is only to turn around and look
gaze and see the ruin of crushed flowers,
putrescant smell, and have the unnatural urge
by the grace of gre
FallenDefeated in a breathFallen12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
We have defeated you
the lone crusader
there is nothing
I see the smoldering ashes
in an ambush that took decades
now the number is tripled
We took the adults first
moved up to the children
we aren't discriminating
Those closest to you and farthest away
your mother, my mother, your lover, yourself,
all taken over and given to the ashes
blown by the wind.
buried alongside those who have fallen
with brave hearts and stronger wills
then the one's losing themselves
to the rubble left in a blackened altar.
I am next to
in the smoke
and the fire.
by lw end -
I will be living CarolineI will be living, Caroline.I will be living Caroline11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Loving everything so free
the losing answers, questions, riddles,
the eventual dates meant by fate
only blow away in flakes
The only reason it stings
is the fleeting joy
enclosed and enriched
with nothing to savoir.
I love the quiet picture
I love you, standing quietly,
the motionless figure
blown til the hair forms picasso
This waltz has not ended yet
you still breathe in the stone
the losing impression is set
the picture only sweet loving tears
by lw end -
Scene of an AccidentScene After An AccidentScene of an Accident13 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lost my car in some wild
Speeding and craziness.
What do I do if the brakes fail?
Survive. I think. I forget.
Now I'm walking on the road's soft shoulders.
Springtime and weeds talk country matters in the gravel,
Under the melted butter sun.
A snake, only as long as a pencil, green
As cooked spinach, glides over my bare left foot.
So gentle, but I am waiting for the panic
Frozen hard as solid silver
And waiting for the lethal flinch.
My nerves aren't steel, they're silver.
I wish someone was there to witness my luck, for I have
Often pointed out the X's on my palms
To friends and said, "See, I'm always protected."
They laughed. But luck comes from the gods;
If there were proof of it anywhere, it would be in my
Improbably, while sleeping,
I see the snake again-or is it a different spinach-coloured snake?
It's the same road.
It's the same me, walking along with a crab-apple bush
to lean on as a staff
(My brain is bad at props)
My spinach snake is
And once the devil stoodAnd once the devil stoodAnd once the devil stood4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You may breathe life into this hollow shred,
the consequences i do not dread,
the lightless hole breathes only the dead,
my eyes, they do not gleam in hunger's red.
You may dance with a stiletto heel,
the king will watch, fall over and keel,
as his servants gasp, the lifeless find zeal,
and none dare stop their eyes to heal.
You may end your own pain,
Open your own doors, drown in the rain,
spread your arms, some even may think you sane
as you fly with everything to gain
And the devil stood,
amongst the burning wood,
where he gazes on us, pondering, would, should, could,
ignoring all that is good.
You may dance in silent reverie,
your soul will be filled with truth's let free,
untamed, untested, let beauty's bounty be,
a lie too often told to me.
You may look for hope and honesty,
in the olive and cherry filled dynasty,
awash with the swill of forgetful hilarity,
and a dozen dreams of nothing come bountifully.
And the devil looked away,
his face a
ControlTalk about control if you can,Control4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Those of you who could choose
The shoes you wore as you ran.
Ran from the eyes that peered in,
Through the cracked, dusty windows,
Down the hall, starting to feel weird.
Eyes repeating judgement with every blink
Freezing your thoughts, as you feared
As you ran out the clock, waited out the night.
Sitting upright, never blinking,
Never wavering, did you know wrong from right?
And you were in control, weren't you?
Or, were you itching like I am?
Praying out loud for silence.
Saying so proud that your nonsense
Will stop, just as soon as you lose
I know what you did.
Just the same as me.
Waiting for your dreams to start,
So you can be a puppet, you can be,
You can be free.
And your dreams came true.
You're stuck six feet down
Watching the feet march above you.
As friends lay flowers,
You're eternally bound.
Poker ChipShe's a poker chip in his lifePoker Chip4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a lucky golden bet to show off to the boys
he keeps her in his pocket
her golden hair and hipnotic eyes
a soul lost to the mans hands
with no one to call home
she's his poker chip to bring him life
a trophy but never to be a wife
The Drawing Out of Mei have been forever hereThe Drawing Out of Me12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sliding through this hall of mirrors
lost yet seeing
dead yet being
promises fall from sincere lips
you're not leaving
slowly peel this hurt away
help me heal it
kiss and seal it
find out all that I can tell
just support me
and exhort me
slip your tongue inside my mouth
forgive the way i'll fall for you
A story of ultimate endHolliday in twilight's fringeA story of ultimate end11 years ago in Mystery & Suspense More Like This
It was august, that crisp summer evening, that the person with dark clothes and a black briefcase walked into my humble abode. The destructive look about the man held my visions of possible future outcomes into a very narrow scope. The overbearing visage of this man wearing the pure black cotton coat, black dress pants, like the kind an undertaker would wear during a wake, and under the coat where I would usually see a white shirt cuffles I see black cuffles. It strikes me as odd because any ordinary person would not see the shirt under the loud, and yet silencing, black overcoat. The head of this mysterious figure had a bollar hat that seemed to insinuate that he was very artistically gifted despite the odvious atire usually worn for a burial. As the man moved, I could see various wrinkles and creeses in the overcoat that allow me to deduct that he must have no time to iron, or go to the nearby laundramat.
I'm very humbled by the sudden appearance of