“Do you regret us?”
FataleMore sirens sing than angels in this town,
and seduction'll bring you higher than saints;
so stay bold, and keep morality faint
if you're headed anywhere but the ground.
Keep your enemies close, till you can feel
their heartbeat, feel how it always races
when you drop your act, forget which faces
to keep up, and wonder which ones are real.
'Cause kid, if you can't tell, nobody will.
Let each smile, wink, word, and every caress
make 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 eyes
To a serene scene;
somewhere, your soul flies.
You slip in between
shadows and cracks; Yet,
you remain asleep.
Landing in regrets
You 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 tears
As 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 feel
real, when death is
a question asked twice
over, by ever
more voices and faces,
distorting and contorting and
in every direction
except straight (but then,
when have we ever been?)
CataclysmThe floodwater’s coming,
kid, and you can hardly skip
puddles anymore, with your legs
bent in all the wrong places.
And you may say one world’s
too much, but three won’t be
enough to keep you high /
dry this time; not that you’ve
ever been the type to take
pilgrimages away from the sea.
Abject fear frames your face well,
though, and you were always headed
for the deep end anyways,
with limbs leadening and pulling
back to the source.
Your voice is hoarse, but the under-
tone is clear: your life as a shipwreck starts /
OceanicOur words flew over time-torn seas
and feelings grew deeply enough
for foundations to hold against fierce ocean breeze.
We bonded over words, and meaning in keys
was found in earnest; but now, in love,
I’m lost inside your memories.
And I’ll never grow used to these
obsessions over thoughts thrown off the cuff.
Our words flew over time-torn seas;
I’m lost inside your memories.
It's not easy being a guyYou may think without a doubt,
in the depths of your mind,
That it's easy being a male,
but let me tell you, that's a lie
Do you know how it feels,
to reach societies expectations,
and if you fail to do so,
must give everyone an explanation?
Or the pain you feel,
when walking with a group of friends,
and a lone girl walks by,
and you stare at her instead.
Not because you lust over her,
or because she's revealing,
put because she has beauty,
like an angel in the clearing.
But you must want to rape her,
or call her a slut,
and because of wishful thoughts,
you have the right to be punched in the gut.
And what's the point of compliments,
when they come from your heart,
you're obviously being sexist,
wasn't that your intention for the start?
Do you know how it feels,
to be raped and feel meaningless,
but to be shunned by society,
And blamed for feeling so senseless.
You are a guy,
“strong proud and tall”
you're not a girl,
so it doesn't matter at all.
That is painful,
to hear an
The paper soulPicture the soul of every child,
as a pristine delicate paper ball,
filled with love and happiness,
innocent and whole.
This fine intricately woven filigree orb
inside of all their hearts,
must be cherished protected and loved,
lest it fall apart.
A remark out of place
is like a slap in the face.
Taking the fool
and all ridicule,
can crush and destroy this beautiful soul,
leaving irreparable damage untold.
When paper is crumpled, creased, dashed and trodden,
the marks left are plain to see.
With the soul it´s the same, hurt, scarred and broken
and bullied into misery.
With apologies you may want forgiveness,
like the paper you try to smooth out the creases.
But the paper is beyond repair
just like a soul full of despair
It´s too late to pick up the pieces.
Poetry by Suzanne Karbach October 2014.
Adulthood's HourglassWelcome to the twisted, corrupted paths of something called adulthood
Where direction is entirely lost and the way cannot be understood
If your education is the chain that weighs your body down
Then your labor is the shackle that binds your body now
The journey will be rough, but don’t look back
Forgiveness is lost on those who might lack
It’s time you prepare to make a choice
In one you certainly won’t rejoice
Release the dreams you plotted
They’re simply not allotted
In the land you’re to enter
Where work is the only center
This black and white city of misery
A schedule fit so the strong grow weary
A country ruled by the king named Money
Whose lies are fatal as poison, but sweet as honey
Yes, here in the real world, your life is now controlled
Now, listen to your new master, do everything as you’re told
Until the time comes for you to take your leave of this cruel place
Just another pawn in this game of life, death will be your saving gra
The RobinClipped are the wings of freedom's song,
her cry a distant call.
locked inward a cage of grief,
her time shall not be long.
She dreams to soar the sky above,
to taste the morning sun.
To fly above oppression's reach,
in hopes she may find love.
We have one Earth, We have one ChanceThings are going down,
and they know it’s true,
just take a long look
see what other have been through.
This world is terrible,
I’ve heard it all before
and the problems we face
are like a stone locked door.
War in one state,
death in another
Good God, I’m surprised
we haven’t killed each other.
Ebola is a virus,
you’ve all heard it I know,
It’s serious isn’t it,
yet people joke like it’s a comedy show.
People are at odds
with what’s a sin or not
But loving whom you choose
is just a wishful thought.
And what is this ISIS
who claims to do right?
When poor, terrified families
can’t even sleep without fright.
And let’s take a step back,
look at western feminism,
which is a pitiful joke,
compared to right-stricken women.
And what about men,
people turn a blind eye,
to rape, murder and abuse,
feminist alike still deny.
Children are poor,
in some of the richest countries,
they beg in the streets,
in wealth filled cities.
Thoughts can be useless.
They don't help in a fight.
In the spur of the moment,
We don't think quite right.
For us it was years though.
With no time to waste
All that we wanted
Was Mom's smiling face...
Instead I lost one.
My brother's sound fate
A soul clad in armor
My horrific mistake.
But now we're relentless.
We search for a way
To correct our mistakes
And go on, come what may.
Now my future is set.
No regrets, can't backpedal.
I'll jump into the fray
With a heart made Fullmetal.
Why She's FeministThey took the light from her eyes,
when they took the light from him.
An even to this day,
he wishes his life could end.
She wasn’t a feminist,
until she turned seventeen,
and she hadn’t put much thought into it,
it really wasn’t what it seemed.
But one night when things,
were silent and casual,
she and her brother,
studied like usual.
However she noticed,
without having to say,
that her little brother was nervous
he began to act in strange ways.
She wanted to ask him
if everything was alright
but she wasn’t at all prepared
for what else would happen that night.
She screamed louder than ever
when those boys broke in,
they attacked her first,
she wasn’t a match for them.
She fell to the ground,
with a bruise on her cheek
she watched helplessly as the boys
took her brother off his feet.
They hit him and beat him
threw him to the ground
ignored his tears
right before they began to crowd.
They stripped him one by one
and by that time she tried to move
Her Broken HeartThere was a little girl,
With a broken heart.
That spent every night,
Trying to mend it back together.
Was like glass.
It would fall,
And shatter to pieces.
She was missing something,
Her heart would never be whole.
The pieces were stolen,
And would never be given back.
She didn't know how to survive,
Every memory tormented her.
And the scars would only,
Bring them back to life.
All she ever wanted,
Was to be loved.
To not be invisible,
To everyone in the world.
But she'll put on a smile.
Because she doesn't want anyone to see,
That this girl is me.
Never EndingIt´s something that´s so hard to bear
After losing a dear loved one,
the days go by without ever changing,
uneventful and dull.
On waking every morning, you face the day , you try.
You´re going through the motions
but there´s something not quite right.
There´s an empty space in your broken heart
that´s now full of disappointment.
With no hope of ever healing it,
no cure , or soothing ointment.
It´s like waking up on Christmas morn
to hear it´s been called off
and every day driving miles and miles
around in thick dense fog.
Daily greetings from the Ground Hog,
each day it seems the same.
For this never ending sadness
is your broken heart to blame.
Poetry by Suzanne karbach October 2014