Fairy Tale

Creating blurs in sight to see my dreams
My eyes so green of other’s lives to strain
My life outside to ride a sour plane
To come indoors to claw the hands to feed

I pleaded more and more I felt deranged
Adoring loss, a treat to want to need
My cries of wiser means to you were strange
The core of who I be in sadder scenes

I’d heat the room as beaten at the games
I never chose to play I couldn’t stay
I weeded to the gates of such a place
I felt at home in loving her disgrace

If treated well, oh still one may despair
The fairy tale too far away to bare

Advertisements

To shine

Of doubts I’m still to shine I find I’m hurt
In line to bring my tears to define
A verse of this of that I can disperse
To ride the waves of words to be sublime

I’d scowl although my wildness lost worth
So foul the howls, so childish I’d find
In retrospect I’ve scarred this heart of mine
And still I’m left to woes , it may outburst

The clout of clouds of hell may tell you lies
The thunderous and hateful means do cry
Insensitive to give the gift of curse
Bereft and left to live a life to nurse

And still I’m thrilled of recompense to thrive
And still I am alive and free to shine

My morning

The way in which I wake is to be slow
I make coffee to help me concentrate
The radio it plays, the people say
So many things to think of and to know

I sip so slow, my mug reflects my woes
In to a wisdom lasting past the aches
Of places that I go and ways I make
The written words to flow and poems grow

The trip is gripping still if me I take
A look to find a path of love bestowed
And flipping out is yesterdays bad taste
And smiling makes it better than to moan

I’d love to sing; my voice will not allow
And so I write instead to words I bow

Break up

The break up from our love was quite obtuse
We have no words of use to speak again
It would be good if then we could be friends
And still we could attend in nights so loose

To take the rough and smooth to few amends
The steaks did prove too tough to want her juice
And still I feel I could not just pretend
And now I have so little left to prove

If hatred known to dish the dirt so tense
So then I tend to sores of heart so bent
The art of woe will show my will be true
To start again anew will make me blue

And love and lust do sever over time
My luck is bound to scribe in words refined

I wake

I wake to find a plan is formed inside
My mind to break the time in which I bore
Mistakes of mine oh many made me sigh
To make new words I’ll love to get the chore

The hate may wait I have the means to try
Debating lines of love and trust and war
And waiting tried to toughen up the core
Of things I work of ink I can do right

And great the might of scribe of life I score
To write in lines to come to rites as mine
Of that do trust is mine no need to bite
Adore me yes you may I’ll make you warm

And thus I am so grand you know it’s true
No need for deeds of hate or to be blue