Thursday, May 3, 2012

Two Silver Dollars For The Ferrymen! The Pull of the Golden Cord, it is the Curse of the RED PURSE

Artistic pastels scream, SUPPLY!

Look into my minds eye,
see that "You" are not "I."

Launch the raft to navigate, not to laugh.
Death lurks at your door,
asking, "Are you a pick-up? or a Horror?"

Draw the line.
The long in time wait still to feel the fill.
The Grave may not be served "On the Rocks."
But, chill it does, the Glacier talks.

"Holding all in cellular tar,"
I blackened myself to match that bar.

Left not flight.
I did not loose sight, I mean,
why fight, when you might just be right?

Spare the tears,
the wet eyes of years,
the lies that you wear,
they make me swear!!

GOD DAMN, just stand.
I am not a Man.

I have been on the lamb!!
Not the rack, rather a track.
Leaving signs of all that you lack.

Get out; Don't shout.
My head, it hurts all about.
Stop your blare, my brain is in there.

Sever yourself from the Sins of When?
You just stood and said, "I didn't know then."

I'll get up and then throw-up,
sicken myself to know it is a set-up,
for who? YOU.

Oh well, it must have been the letter.

An Idea Of Why

Bury your thoughts of discriminatory fear!
Unleash a balance of Imagination.
Lend your Will towards Truth.
Life can then benefit You.

Be Pensive, not Expensive.
Attempt to rid yourself of Blind Rage.
See the Sage amongst the crowd.
Bow not to your loud appeal, of heal.

Discover strength in the Dens of Iniquities.
Create a fascination to Shield the saturation of the perverted
and the learned capability to discern the innocent before their destruction.

Pride yourself with the Stride of a Lyon!

In the Lair of Man;
 Do Not Stare!
Lurking is a Deadly sign.
The missing link is not meant to be screwed.

No rudeness will be found when Honesty is around.

A find of a unique kind is not by specific design.
It takes a novel approach to not scare from behind the running kind.
Be quick, be fast or you shall find that it will be your last.

The Circle Of Death; Or Life!! Do Not Strife.

Explosive years of traveled times,
regard my Mind in riddling rhymes.
Each moment captured in seconds of shock,
waiting for the sight of them, I lock!

No more can I see my duty or my cause.
Only the emptiness and loss.
Missing what is no longer here,
is felt as the absence of life long fear.

Speaking of what cannot be seen,
knowing that I will no longer be,
I pause to accept gracefully,
the lives that made all of this inside of Me.

The growth of some is the death of run.
I caught myself in a senseless sort of dumb: Numb!
I look with blind and blurred vision,
to only know that it is their decision.

Turning from what was thought to be love,
is making sense of childhood; glove.
I am, I will, I'm told I'll always be,
that which can't be much you see.

Damaged goods,
I know it's true, excitement of existence should!
Install inside an upward flow
of resistance to the slow.

As health, as happiness, as worry gains,
I watch to know, I'm not ashamed,
to speak with persons no longer here,
I find that it relieves that fear of near.

Remembrance with photographs, hugs with hands held tight.
Smiles, laughter and chuckling in the after,
I'll never forget, it is important too,
I did not sin, did you?

Embarrassment, red faces and turned down eyes,
I never saw one disguise.
Just turned and walked away with shame,
those people they used to call Dame.

You know, back in the day,
an Epitaph was written in fact,
with ink before, extract.
At least normally it was like that.

We as people are born to what?
Misery? Torture? and told you scorn?
A day, a way, no love to spare?
Only the look of "Get out of there!"

I'm glad that I have lived long enough,
to know that Life gets really rough.
You're told, "Forget your past! Move on!"
Then screamed at, "There is no hope, it's the cycle you're on."

I choke.

Wondering why Adults go both of these ways,
it's my fault each and every day.
I can't be right, nor can I be wrong,
don't be long or sing a song.

Inside I'm mostly scared or feared,
of all of you, you just seem to sear.
It would be nice to belong,
but it is no longer in my throng.  

Accepting Me as myself,
the I in Me says, "Just be stealth."
Nature takes back so naturally,
what can't fit and goes blind to see.

The Fear, the threats, the heavy bets,
that I'll die from all this debt.
It does put weight upon my core,
but I do know Evermore.

These scenes of what are so unkind,
hitting, beating and the torturing signs,
upon my body and my mind,
no more than the psychological horror of sore.

Clear out your need, do not heed,
no longer will you fear the bleed.
Love is known, but, not by Me.
It's not a crime to get off your knees.

To never fall in love with me,
they, the Men just said to heed.
I am fine, move on, for I will too.
Far away from all of you.