Silver tongueYour words are notsterling, they are stabbing,stinging syllablesthat slice throughstitches, leaving woundsexposed.
Feral EyesI look into myself,The abyss,And the feral eyes that stareBack at me-They disappear.
HeliumWe are like balloons,tied down by Gordian knots;waiting to be freed.But no Alexander comes;and so we must hack away,lest we sink to the ground.
Exit.My mother never knew;never knew about howI’d spend those first nights,in strangers' hands that heldtoo tight. Never knew about howbad habits are heirloomstoo, and that the paintingsfrom her room couldn’t coverstained truths.My mother didn’t knowthat nothing would startanew, and that yeah,there’d be good art,but she could never seeit through.My mother never knew thatthis story doesn’t end; that"Exit stage right and followthe Light" isn’t a conclusion,
FataleMore sirens sing than angels in this town,and seduction'll bring you higher than saints;so stay bold, and keep morality faintif you're headed anywhere but the ground.Keep your enemies close, till you can feeltheir heartbeat, feel how it always raceswhen you drop your act, forget which facesto keep up, and wonder which ones are real.'Cause kid, if you can't tell, nobody will.Let each smile, wink, word, and every caressmake it so that they, and you, know you less.And when it's time –you'll know– go for the kill.'Cause there's only one way out, and it's through;or the one left singing'll never be you.
NocturneYou open your eyesTo a serene scene;somewhere, your soul flies.You slip in betweenshadows and cracks; Yet,you remain asleep.Landing in regretsYou couldn’t help but keep,Dream becomes nightmare.Sweat upon your brow;Scared beyond compare.What will you do now?The watershed moment dries, stilling your tearsAs your bleating alarm allays all your fears.
Full Circle“Can’t you go on your own?” “That’s not the point, James. You’ve got to get used to the way things are now; I know it’s tough, but it’ll only get harder the longer you wait, and it’s already been months.This argument was nothing new, but Adam doubted he’d ever get used to it. Ever since the Surveillance Revolution ended in Canada, a new, exasperating paranoia had taken hold of some of the more fragile youth: they were afraid to be out of sight. Before the Pan-American Surveillance Agency was dissolved, their main line of propaganda defense had been to assure the public that their programs were in everyone’s best interest: because how else could they catch the bad guys? They didn’t catch them, of course. Not really. Not the valuable ones. But when you’re young and Stranger Danger feels as real as ever, the idea of having somebody always watching your back was co
Smoking gun in a housefireNothing can feelreal, when death isa question asked twiceover, by evermore voices and faces,distorting and contorting andpointingin every directionexcept straight (but then,when have we ever been?).
CataclysmThe floodwater’s coming,kid, and you can hardly skippuddles anymore, with your legsbent in all the wrong places. And you may say one world’stoo much, but three won’t beenough to keep you high /dry this time; not that you’veever been the type to takepilgrimages away from the sea.Abject fear frames your face well,though, and you were always headedfor the deep end anyways,with limbs leadening and pullingback to the source.Your voice is hoarse, but the under-tone is clear: your life as a shipwreck starts /ends here.
This Ugly, Beautiful WorldI took a school trip to Europe this summer.To be honest, I don't remember much of it anymore. It's all a blur of rushing through crowded streets and cramped bus rides and crowds of foreign languages. When I look at the pictures, in fact, I can't seem to recall taking most of them. I can't even tell what some of them are supposed to be.Our first stop was Paris, France.I hated it there. It was dirty. Smelly. Crowded. Disgusting. Wherever we found ourselves, disdain was the only courtesy that was shown to us by those who called the City of Light their home. It didn't even matter that I loved each inch of history that was told to us by our guide - I just wanted to go home and get away from the squirming, teeming atmosphere that clung to me like fog on a rainy day.We spent three days in Paris.The first day is nothing but a fractured, bone-weary mess in my mind that consists of walking and walking and eating and walking and listening and walking and walking. The second day is simply bit
Desideratum Found.Put simply, a desideratum is a want or a need.It could be as trivial as wealth or as important as the air that we breathe.This can not be right, this word shouldn't be.Unfortunately, not all have realized the big difference between want and a need.
HAIKUWRIMOCOMPLETE 2013February 28th, 2013Dire desperationA feeble whimper for help;roar of these raw times.February 27th, 2013Gluttonous ash cloudsucks the moon's bloodand swallows the night.February 26th, 2013Bark! An explosion!Angry bodies escape thenetwork of lung cells.February 25th, 2013Silently cloning,multiplying, honing in,determined to kill.February 24th, 2013Tea and sympathyreadily availablefor my dear sister.February 23rd, 2013I will hold my breathas the north wind does the samewaiting for your love.February 22nd, 2013He hovers behind;Hamletian apparition.Always following.February 21st, 2013A long slow curve,your smile upon my shoulder,a scar of your touch.February 20th, 2013Dandelion seed,Where do you go while I sleep?To whom do you run?February 19th, 2013Whorls from fingersImprinted in the treesCount their rings too.February 18th, 2013Orchid explodes.Sudden
Our MasksThe masks we wear are perfectNever loose and rarely tightThey keep us safe from othersAnd keep our demons out of sightThey smile when we are brokenAnd laugh when we simply mustNo blemish or imperfectionA creation that will never rust.I seldom ever rememberWho I am without my maskThat to peel off that layerIs such a daunting taskAll others carry one as wellWherever they may goAnd no matter what is on their mindsOnly the molded mask will show.The lies they preach in publicOr the scars along their wristsAre left mute to others knowledgeIgnorance is such a splendid giftMy mask is oh so perfectNot a crack will showAlways sitting in its placeNo matter what life will throwSee I’m worried of getting rid of mineToo scared to let the world seeThat behind my safe disguiseIs a dreadful, wounded me.I’ll keep my mask tied tightlyI’m happy with it for nowBut truth is I can’t remove itThe real me doesn’t know how.
Letter To a StrangerYou do not recognize my nameNor am I in knowledge of yoursThough we have never met beforeI feel the need to speak with youTo tell you stories of my lifeAnd you provide me with the sameBut before we start a friendshipI wish to ask you a few thingsThus, your undivided focusIs what I need from you right nowCan you pay fervant attentionTo every word that passes my lips?In years past, I have met peopleWho love surface phenomenaAnd fail to dive deeper than thatRefuse to connect ideasWill you hear the depths of my verseAnd perceive me for who I am?And many of these same peopleHave done nothing to assist meWith any hardship I have facedHave not been there to support meDo you keep an eye out for friendsTo have their backs in trying times?When there arrives a dire momentThat requires a frank dialogueAnd an unfettered honestyWithout any hesitationWould you call out my behaviourWhen it is less than savory?All these things I ask in my searchFor a deep, genuine friends
CrossingYour shadow danced in the grey morningAbove the drew laden grass of winter,Who crept in on the coat tails of Autumn leaving.Your shadow walked below the autumn trees,Who stood in silent solemnity,As they bade farewell to falling leaves.Your shadow waited in the season’s cross way,Above the touching trail of time,At the pinnacle passingInto my existence your shadow fades.
I Believe- Six Word StoryI believe....Even though you don't.
Day 81Time machine fixed.Will arrive yesterday.
Breaking News'Breaking news.Child kills wolf pack.'
Chance Meetings"Do I know you?" "Not yet."
You Make It So HardYou're being a baby about this,Just know that I forgive you,And I don't care what you do,What you tell all the people I knew,'Cause you can lie and you can act,You can play the part of a saint,But in the end you can't win,Because I don't care what you think,I love you,But you're acting hard to love,And I'd hug you,But while attacked, and stabbed in the back, it's hard to hug,I won't lie about you,But be warned, I will tell the truth,I love you,But not what you do,I tried to reconcile,But you said not to come home,And I'll cry for a while,But it's you that'll always be alone,'Cause you can lie and you can act,You can play the part of a saint,But in the end you can't win,Because I don't care what you think,I love you,But you're acting hard to love,And I'd hug you,But while attacked, and stabbed in the back, it's hard to hug,I won't lie about you,But be warned, I will tell the truth,I love you,But not what you do,I can't apologize,For cringing when you giv
RegretMy fury. My fist. My fault.
Story Time“Tell me a beautiful story.”“You.” © L. L. Kelly 2013
FollowThe Dancer leads the walk of the dead; and to his merry, terrible song, they follow.
My SaviorMy SaviorA man called Jesus, was nailed to the cross.His head hung low with sorrow.His arms were stretched out and hands nailed to the wood.His feet crossed and nailed together.His side was pierced by a sword.His precious blood seeped from his body and fell to the ground below.He looked upon the people who watched him on this day.He prayed to his Heavenly Father.The clouds rolled in and the day became as night.His voice filled with pain and agony said, "Forgive them for they know not what they do."His mind and body seen and felt every sin that had been, was and was going to be.Looking toward Heaven, Jesus said, " It is finished."Surrendering to his Father's will, he gave his own life for you and me.Written By: Hillbilly Girl May 23, 2011
Doppelganger PromptSomewhere out there: a productive me.
PassionYou look me overAnd you turn awayYou lead my heartInto silent decay'Cause you want something beautifulWant something beautifulYou want something beatifulSo you look awayWell, this I call passionThis I call realAre you ready to see me?Are you ready to feel?But you don't see anythingYou don't see anythingNo, you don't see anything'Cause you don't see meYou speak such wise wordsBut won't believe what I sayThink you've got to hold outFor some brighter day'Cause you want something realWant something realYou want something realBut you turn awayAnd, this I call passionThis I call realAre you ready to hear me?Are you ready to feel?But you don't hear anythingYou don't hear anythingNo, you don't hear anything'Cause you don't hear meI carry this torchAnd its burning my handsCan you see the scars now?Do you understand?You think I'm not good enoughThink I'm not good enoughWell, am I not good enoughTo carry these scars?This I call passionThis I call realAre
Once you wereOur eyes meet.They look away.
Broken mirrorsI’m tired of beingbroken, he saidto the cracked mirror