so....anyone care to share some inner workings? some poetry. put your words down and we'll all lift our glass up.
i'll start.
Drinking it in.
It's already red, and stained with its oil.
Final and bloated, it gains in recoil.
stabbing at smiling, and happy with smoke...
the bar conversation seems to breath as it chokes.
its finally ready, and happy to come.
laughing at lady's who miss where there from.
turned into sawdust while shaving there needs,
for one who likes flowers who hate all there weeds.
something and wait for it.... maybe, but no.
slide...
thats unusual
duck.........
is that so?
baby I'm wanting and needing for more
and waiting I'm watching it die on the floor.
the bar conversation keeps swatting at fly's...
and each time it smacks down it looks in my eyes.
he slips and she rolls and they all raise there hand
but the bar conversation needs nowhere to land.
spoken with freedom, but covered in spoil
its kidding.... its waiting... it's dry in the soil.
sick now and falling and god is right there.
A number is taken but the buyer beware.
one girl is painting the thing that they fixed...
but the bar conversation sits making the brick.
drinking it in
[edit on 20-9-2006 by tasteslikethunder]
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i am grubbing on lasagna
it came from a freezer
perhaps it was prepared by an unknown geezer
i assume
as i vacuum it down my throat
i hope to hell i dont choke
so i may vote
one day
far away
some time
when i get a dime
s'all good though
nothing is meant to last
everything is now in the past
i listen to the sound wave
was its transform into my brainwaves
apple juice
apple juice
its ok
but moose juice
just wtf is happening to me
i can see
that i must
pee.
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Raindrops fall in the night,
like blood from an open wound.
The storm robs the sky of its light.
The darkness sets the evening's evil mood.
She sits on her bed, frozen with fear.
Not of outside; but of the storm within.
She hears the footsteps and she knows that he draws near.
Just feeling him there sends chills across her skin.
He’s done this to her before;
almost every day.
Now he’s right outside her door,
and she’s desperate to get away.
The knob starts to turn,
and she whispers "please God, no."
Because of the tears, her eyes start to burn.
She looks around for somewhere to go.
He slowly steps inside.
She starts to quiver and shake.
She knows that there's no place to hide.
She can’t protect her heart from another break.
He casually steps toward her bed.
She tenses up and waits for it to begin.
The first blow is across her head.
The second is dealt to her chin.
She can see that evil look in his eyes;
that terrifying little gleam.
The sound of the storm stifles her cries.
No one can hear her scream.
The battery continues evermore;
harder with every whack.
Then he throws her on the floor.
The world around starts to go black.
He kicks her again and again,
but she doesn’t feel the pain.
She thinks that this is the end.
She’s fading with the rain.
She wakes on the floor later that night,
with a throbbing pain in her head.
She hopes, she wishes, she prays with all her might,
that she will soon be dead.
Tonight, she wants her life to end.
She doesn’t see light in tomorrow.
Because although these wounds will mend
She’ll never get over the pain and sorrow.
No one knows what he does to her.
No one can ever tell.
There's no way that she can make them see,
how he’s made her life a living hell.
Abuse is the burden that some have to bear.
It happens every day.
But the system doesn’t notice, or maybe they don't care,
that even when the bruises are gone, the pain inside refuses to go away.
|
I met the devil once.
I ran, I ran.
Can he still see me running?
He can, he can.
I pray for direction.
A plan, a plan.
Am I scared that he'll catch me?
I am, I am.
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