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Ragged blue cuts through midni MaskRagged blue cuts through midnight black,three lines styled after the beast within.Cold amber, jaded and hard,bright eyes that burnyour very soul.A shapelessmouth; wordless and silent.Neither salvation nor mercy,only the damning silencefor the condemned.The left eye; underscoredwith a single triangulated tear,defiantly white.“An eye for an eye, but I don’t need to see,who needs eyes motherfucker I can feelyou bleed!”Bleed.Silent damnation in that amber glass,No mercy will fall from these lips.Bleed.No expression for this mask,Say something!Bleed.
Song of HealingDay to night, dark to light,Fall the sands of time.Let the years like the gearsOf a clock unwindIn your mind walk through timeBack to better days.Memories, like a dream,Wash your tears away.Like a star in the sky darkness can't reach you.Light the night, joy is light 'til the new dawn.---Cast away your old faceFull of gloom and spite.With this mask I will askTo borrow your light.
There is a GodThere is a God,no mystery about it.Just look into the sky,and you will see.Touch the mountain peak,and you will see.Just take a breath,hold deep then exhale.And you will see that,there is a God.He is in the laugh of every baby,the glowing smile on their faces.In the heart of each child,dancing with the innocence of this life.He is holding that woman up in her pain.Giving that man strength in his trials.Speaking words of life into the hopeless,shining light into the darkness.He is God.He is the whisper in the wind,calling out your name.He is the Eye in the storm,waiting for you to call out to Him.He is everything you need,you just need to realize it is Him.There is a God,and He is everywhere.In the oceans tide,in the gull's cry,in the fires blaze,in the clouds rain,in your hearts song. There is a God.
AngelsAngelsthey cry tears of joythey guard us from harmseraph fights for the almightyarchangels fight for earthangels are all around usthey cherish the world
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.Books filled with black letters,etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.Veering us from the big picture...the one we fail to paint ourselves.Our fists much too busy with fights,that we are bound to lose.Too occupied in line waiting,for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...but we only enclose each other in small roomswith nothing but old laptops.Missing keys,Oh!How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...Which letter could it be?To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.There's no break for this lonely man,heaving every breathe of stale airinto my overused lungs...Living in confined walls of fleshheld up with brittle paper-mache bones.Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
Coming BackCrack.Crack.She felt her skin falling off of her back."Don't EVER mention that Name, EVER!" the evil dictator screamed, throwing his whip aside and now digging his claws in to her back.Her pain was great, but she did not cry. She had no more tears. After she had left The Good Shepherd and was later captured by the prince of darkness, her tears had vanished. The evil dictator's victims didn't know why she held her tears back; it was a mystery to them.As the dictator's claws dug deeper and deeper in to her skin, she simply blinked. Sure, it was painful, but her heart felt more of the pain. She was just about to marry Him, her Good Shepherd, the Man who selflessly saved her from her mistakes. When she found one small speck of dust on her dress, she was devestated and she firmly believed that she was not worthy of Him because of that one small speck.Then, when she least knew it, the prince of evil and sin took her as his own, and she had been imprisoned ever since.He grabbed her hai
Orgasm Finding YourselfPearls of love slide down my legBlood pumping hard and fast through my headThe euphoric feeling takes full controlThe heat from this pleasure touches my soulEyes dilate and hands start to shakeOut of breath and body vibratesMuscles tense so tightLike I've gone in to shockThis second feels so rightI never want to stopThen words can't explain the feeling that comesSpirit and body finally becomes oneFocus comes back and pulse rate slows downThen the pearls become rivers that soak my night gown.
Wiccan Rede, Creed and Rune Please note that I claim none of these poems, as they are not mine to claim. Some have the authors named beneath the titles. Those that do not are the ones that I do not have the author's name for, and thus I cannot say who has written them. But I take no credit for these!The Wiccan Rede*There may be some slight variations on this, but this is the one I have found.**Written by Doreen Valiente.Bide the Wiccan law ye mustIn perfect love and perfect trustLive and let live-Fairly take and fairly giveCast the Circle thrice aboutTo keep all evil spirits outTo bind the spell every timeLet the spell be spake in rhymeSoft of eye and light of touch-Speak little, listen muchDeosil go by the waxing MoonSing and dance the Wiccan RuneWiddershins go when the Moon doth waneAnd the Werewolf howls by the dreaded WolfsbaneWhen the Ladys Moon is newKiss the hand to her times twoWhen the Moon rides at her peakThen your hearts desire seekHeed the North wind
Therian PoetryThis phantom tail i cannot seeThis misplaced soul inside of meI walk on all foursYet i do not have pawsI wish i could fly awayBut in this place i must staySometimes i wish i could growlOr at least bark,yip or howlDo not give me the bootbecause im an animal in a human suitJust because you dont understandThis is not something that i plannedPlease dont cage mePut me in a straitjacketOr in a soft white roomMaybe if you set your mind free,Your inner therian might bloom
God is a hipster.God went to Starbucksbecause the Wi-Fi signal inheaven is crap. He pullsan HP out of the laptop bag androlls His eyes at the kid luggingin a typewriter. He clicks on Wordbecause He never really stoppedcreating – He has more furniturethan He knows what to do withand no wall space left for His canvases.He likes Word – His Word – becauseit reminds Him of another beginning,before time, before space, before everything.