Minds Sheep

Pages
each is like an open space
I could spill my mind onto it

like a inspirational bullet

I would probably crumple the page
my thought won't do  what I want

They're like mush
piles of ideas and dreams

to sort through
the best live on the bottom
they thrive in the dark

surrounded by happy thoughts
they're cruel
sinners

They eat grass like sheep
but they're not sheep
everyone else is

words

Words
Why do they mean so much
but you tell me words are like bullets
and I cannot take them back
Its just a sound
but I thought sticks and stones hurt you
not words
It just slides off my tongue
Its the simpliest way to express
but just would word could depress
The simple movement of it confuses me
My first words heard
but my last word will not be
the words I speak will be only to me

My final bites

My Final Bites

The fast hasn't been broken

Yet I have a bite of delphic

and a glass of anxiety

they are both hard to swallow

All day I dread it

it is the same,

Since I met her - Ana

She breathes down my neck

she convinces me to drink a glass of woe

I give in

It tastes melancholic

Anything more, and I'd be hungry

Ana resents that

Dinner is different

I don't eat at all

I sit for a while

Then suddenly I fall

Lying there I hear Ana

 

She's laughing

"You weren't strong enough"

she spits

 

My final bites

are of my own life

 

Adaptation of 'I may, I might, I must'

If you tell me the lake appears
Blind,

Then I will telll you why I
Can get past it;

to get to you

mute.

Pink Chair
Yellow Chair
Empty Seats
Sitting there

Vaccant lot
parked cars
with no passengers

pants pockets
unfilled to the brim
only air
in there
pants pockets

empty brain
thoughtless mind
to refrain

no words to compute
dry tongue
closed voicebox
simply going mute.

The Sweetest Song

A bird sings the sweetest song
but it has a kick,
it's bitter

It gives me the slighest shiver
I wait fir a moment
then I listen more

It chirps out my secrets
I hoped no one would hear

later someone approached me
they asked about my actions

when I questioned
"How did you know?"

Well of course,
A little birdy told me.

Adapation of "Spring and All"

"You and I"

 

So much depends

Upon

 

A blue shredding

Lake

 

Glazed with Sun

Set

 

Beside white hot

sand

Trigger

BEFORE YOU READ
This poem is featured around what occured recently in Newton, Conneticut this past friday. The events that happened were terrible and I cannot help but cry when I read articles, see reports and interviews about this school shooting. Their were 28 lives lost, most of which were children. Please help support the citizens and families in Newton who lost members of their communtity; these children won't be coming home this Christmas.



Houses crave to be "home"

Christmas is for family,
unless you are alone

the light swtiches wait to be flicked

schools are meant to be safe;
it wasn't then

the overturned seats yearn to be sat in

the children want attention
but not the type they got

hiding in a closet
all they hear is tears

It never happens to you,
until it does

you can live to retell the events
but part of you cannot survive

the part that was shot,
when you were a kid