Tag Archive: mine


winter souls

 

Smiling zealots twisting faith

Hate is the foundation of

The evil horde of bland faces, winter souls

Wearing their self- righteous evil with honor

Lies and suppression are their tools

Fostering a system of inequality

Scheming against the light,

Darkening us all

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The Kiss.jpg

 

I will come whichever way I can,

Driven by hope, by desire, and by fate

To see you, to touch you, to love you

 I will come

Whichever way I can,

I will come.

 

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Not Love

 

Tenderness Away

Was Innocence’s

An Idiots idea

 

 

 

 

 

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POETS

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Who are these poets

The ones that make us think

The ones that make us feel

Am I one of these Poets are you

Are we a part of the larger scheme

Who are these poets

The ones that feel so deeply

And see so clearly

Who write so beautifully

Who are these poets

Are they you are they me

Who are these Poets

I ask you,

Who could these Poets be

 

 

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A clock with no hands

Can give no time

A clock with no hands

I may as well be blind

A clock with no hands

I cannot read

A clock with no hands

I do not need

A clock with no hands

serves no purpose at all

A clock with no hands

Hangs on my wall

 

 

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From time to time

But only when the wind chimes

I know she’s still here

Translucent and fair

With coal-black hair

I know she’s still here

Watching my every move

Rather I win or lose,

I know she’s still here

Alone on a dark wet road

A car took her body

The lord took her soul

But I know she’s still here

 

 

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At mid-night past

Your pay is due

The time has come

To collected from you

A brokered deal

You thought it through

No place in heaven

Dark man has come for you

Tremble and pray,

They always do

At mid-night tonight

Your soul is due.

 

 

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Black ink

Reflecting gold

From out of the body

Goes the soul

In Flight to above or below

It all depends

On the weight of the soul

 

 

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Forever and I have an end

A child of light

I make my descent

A broken child

Who could not see

These prideful was would

Be the end of me

 

 

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Old School House sits

Abandon and forgotten

Where the weeds grow high,

And the sweet sound of children laughing

Echos hauntingly

Dandelions sway gently

Hiding tiny foot prints below

A museum of memories,

Archived and filed neatly away

Darken windows stare out mournfully

Remembering a better day

As memories rise like grey smoke,

And fade gently away.

 

 

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