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Schizophrenia.I am happy.
We are happy.
We have medication.
It will be our emancipation.
Recipe for Modern News.Recipe Ingredients:
4 Parts Depression.
2 Parts Heartbreak.
2 Parts Dashingly Good Looking People.
1 Heaping Pile of Politics.
1 Major City, with at least 5 Years Experience and a Network Capable Of At Least 360° Of Coverage.
Untold amounts of Bias.
Untold amounts of Lies.
Take 4 Parts Depression, 2 Parts Heartbreak, mix generously with a heaping pile of Politics. Stir Generously.
After the first ingredients have settled, mix in 2 Parts Dashingly Good Looking People, leave emotional and chunky, it gives better flavor.
Stick in any major city for 5 years at 360° of coverage.
After done covering for five years, layer indiscriminately with a copious amount Bias and Lies.
Continue to serve as your vox populi see fit.
Patient 0 or Patience.Patient 0 Or Patience.
(Title as of yet undetermined.)
Patient 8: Placeholder
Sometimes I really, really hate being a greeter for a mass mega-mart chain of all you can want or need stores. You have to be smiley and cheery to even the most miserable, sick, and angry human beings you can come across. Like today for instance, A lady came in who looked as though she'd be ready to be hung out to dry or stuffed and hung on the wall by a taxidermist. I smiled, as the rule book says we're supposed to do, and welcomed her to our store, just like the rule book says we're supposed to do too, and she looked at me with the scariest bloodshot eyes. My friends tell me that I don't scare easily but seeing this old lady come in with eyes that could just of easily been dripping blood, quite frankly, terrified me. It doesn't help that when she asked for help getting a cart, she sounded remotely similar to Dr. Claw on the old cartoon Inspe
Her.Her lips, electric.
Her kiss, restarts my heart.
Looking in to her eyes is to look into forever.
Her hands, molded to fit mine.
Her laugh, brings happiness and joy.
Her hugs, warmth.
Equinoctial Solace.Equinoctial Solace
The cold winds wander now.
The autumn comes quietly to us.
The yellow leaves fall.
Tops of trees under
a foot. Shards of bright pottery
Broken and crushed by the shoe.
Old dry grass, browns. Plants sleep.
Intimate nature reveals,
her hidden secrets.
Cuddle, carressed in cotton.
Sheets rustle as leaves skittering.
A chilled breeze peeks in.
Rain bows the sky quietly and softly.
A bright stars fall full of grace.
Sleep in late, dream freely.
Back to the beautiful sky.
Lazy birds skim barren treeline.
Chirp "hi" to an early sun.
Only passing through they
continue on their way south. A
new warmer home calls.
First frost forms over
rusty blades of grass. Nighttime
seeps from the brightening sky.
Divine, sun and moon.
Eternal, their chase. Never
a win, or loss. Tied.
Opaque fog rolls in;
clearing a dimmer path for
the might of winter's chill.
... Untitled ...The music box and broken mandolin play.
Tea-cup tears fill broken dreams and yet, somehow life goes on.
Cats crying while dogs sleep, stars drift in circular patterns over our head.
Air flows beneath bird's wings, the rain bowing forming colors in the sky.
Fruit sits idly by as the sun shines down and cotton clouds drift..
The lone tree's leafs, cold to the touch, hang on.
A sweet voice calls us home, reminds us of mother's cooking.
Clip of Seven.Clip Of Seven.
The clip of seven.
One for each.
Use the clip of seven and take me now.
Clip of seven, take me.
Let the blood flow from the seven holes where you puncture me.
Take the pain, and make it go away, clip of seven.
Seven messengers, messengers delivering seven sins.
Envy for the things that are.
Gluttony for the things that we have and devour with a hunger.
Wrath a hate so strong you can feel it burning inside of you like a flame.
Sloth, a tiring slowness that makes your life grind to a halt.
Lust an emotion for things that you wish you could have.
Greed of the things that you covet and hide from prying eyes.
Your pride is who makes you who you are, yet you always wish you had more.
Clip of seven.
Deliver these messages, make your message quick and fast.
Quick and fast so that I don't feel you deliver the message.
Take my Envy, with my right hand.
Take my Gluttony, with my left
Shattered Dreams of Childhood.My friend and I enter the store, carts lined up like herded cattle waiting for a push through a processed toy line. I bypass a limp wheeled cart; it looks on at me as if moaning Pick me. Im the most used and Ill treat what youre going to buy with the most care. Truth be told, I really hadnt come in to the store to buy anything... just to remember what it felt like to be a kid.
I pass through the Early Kids section, baby bottles line the walls like flowers waiting to be plucked of their nectar. The music in the store reminds me of my local grocery store, dull, monotonous and having absolutely no drive. Youd think theyd play something that'd bring childhood memories back to you, but I guess not.
I enter the first aisle... the first aisle I have no interest in what-so ever... flamingo pink Barbie doll boxes line the walls. Barbie dolls, prepackaged femininity for $4.99. Each and every single one of them... selling themselves out like a prost
Angel's With Broken HalosI am dead to the world today.
(Nature's finest creation?)
Unhappiness and sickness dwells within.
(Eternity awaits for nothing.)
Angels with broken halos looming overhead.
(Fate screaming within the darkness that is my soul.)
Chanting "This is the end!"
I cast my eyes aside.
(Turning from my fate, not willing to accept it.)
Crimson flows from the cut, down my arm, smooth and undisturbed.
(Day dreaming, remembering memorys.)
Pain, hate and anger, dripping to the ground.
(Lights, up within my eyes.)
Laying down, sleep drifts in from an unfamilar air.
(Rest is for the weak.)
Sleeping, on the cold, lifeless soil, with eyes wide shut.
(Eratic and sporatic dreams floating, euphoric blood soaked pleasure begins.)
Beware Of The Bad BoySo he touches you in all of the right places
But with a clenched fist and not a gentle hand
By ‘right places’ I mean those easily hidden
By the latest expensive designer brand
Which he buys you to either keep your silence
Or to beg and to plead for your forgiveness
Is this where the attraction of a bad boy lies?
Please explain where is the excitement in this?
So he kisses you with a so-called passion
His hands round your neck steal a two letter word
It seems that he cannot feel satisfaction
Unless you show him signs that his dominance hurts
Which he tightens each time to keep your silence
Or maybe he just enjoys hearing you moan
Is this the deed of some stalker, some stranger?
No, this is your husband and this is your home
So he lays you out on the living room floor
I wonder what will fall down to the carpet first
The drops of blood from between your legs
Or the tears flowing between his regretful words
Which he whispers in your ear as you lay silent
It’s safe to say
Introspection in a Pale Moon LightAm I a dream of the universe?
A microcosm of the cosmos
A transient flash of memory
Soon forgotten for eternity
Am I a conscious collection of atoms?
Converging together at random
An essence in constant motion
Like a ripple upon the ocean
We are all made of star dust
Born when giant gas clouds combust
In a symphony of the spheres
Free from anxiety and of fears
We are never ending energy
Dancing across the galaxy
From Andromeda to the Milky Way
Like a ballerina in a ballet
WordsIt’s when I get my thoughts to rhyme
That I can truly start to see
What has been swirling in my mind,
And then I get to set it free.
A turmoil of chaotic calls
Becomes a desperate, pleading choir
Of thousands of tangled words
Awaiting me to help them thrive.
They cry, and weep, and beg like kids,
Won’t let me drown myself in sleep
Until I give them what they need –
A string of rhythm and sense to grip.
I strive and strive to make them speak
And give them a melodic vibe.
Yet their presence is too weak,
I'm losing hope that they'll survive.
But after stumbling time and time
Again to let them slip away
I start to hear their chime.
I start to see them find a way.
So one by one and step by step
I see them coming up to me.
They join to spin a magic web –
My soul’s true epitome.
And that’s the place they shall remain,
In subtle, fearless accord.
I never thought that I could tame
Such mischievous, capricious words.
So now I’m pacing back and forth
DethronedDelicate fingertips were once against my cheek,
as were the smiles that you so affectionately cast towards me.
But then you tossed me into the gaping sea,
and I am no longer a beloved queen to thee.
Sweet Music MelodySweet Music Melody lend a mid-night dance to me
Oh what tender lips are these that lay sweet kisses on my cheeks
Making my bashful heart sing...sing...sing
Sweet Music Melody lend a mid-night song to me
Oh what beautiful notes your voice is to a lover's song
beckoning a drifting soul home sweet home
Sweet Music Melody never let your music end
Play your seductive heart's song again and again
Step by step, song by song, you and I are forever one
She Does Not Love YouDo not hear
Her glorious speech
Pretend to be deaf.
Elude her hair
Dancing in the air
Don’t think about
Those sunny eyes
Knowing your past
With just one look.
Avoid her laugh
A melody of harp
Played by angels.
She’s hurting you
Giving you false
When she reveals
All her evil plan
You will be broken
Thinking about suicide.
Bury the memories
With you by her side
Even if they are
The best times
Of your life.
A Rainy PlaceWandering roads that branch so I can never see
Where the path I choose will likely carry me
Then comes the fear
As apprehension looms above
Like the cloud I am always victim of
Driest days are still enough to make me drown
Happy plays go on in side my little crown
But always in
To show these thoughts enlightening
Speed up the coming derailing
Conclusions crash from up above
To think my mind was stronger stuff
A paper boat
In sea that grows around my feet
The longer I wait with all the thoughts I keep
Mask the way with rain as paved paths taper on
The traveller who must be gone
Then comes the pain
How I cannot be one of them
Who takes a gamble on a whim
Yesterday was long before the one I made
I forget how many of them passed the same
My will is only weakening
Come future I will not be able swimming
Earth to break from where I stand as water falls
Wash the state lethargic I am victim of
Unable to move
Even when all offered it slowly takes
With nothing left I will not wake
Blaming is for the weakYou blame it all on me
But the truth you do not see
You lied right from the start
Just to win over my heart
You did not act your age
When you turned the other page
We could have worked it out
But now I am in doubt
That you ever really tried
Because all you did was hide
You told a one sided story
Just looking for some glory
Sold a fairy tale
Now I find you are quite stale
Everything you emulate
Is something that I hate
You told me you were strong
Stringing me along
You were afraid of everything
Now I see your broken wing
Thinking of the day
When your troubles fade away
Your refusal to act on them
Leaves you nothing more than a whim
I do not have the time
To be subjected to your crime
Now I can see it's true
That the weak one is you
Winds Of TimeThe cool winds of time change from day to day
Yesterday to soon turns into tomorrow
But today is never twice the same
And in heavenly stars I search, but I have yet to find my way
Still, as time continues to march on, my soul can find no resting place
In the mist of this violent quake
Of many dimensions of being I lies awake
Until the hours of dark meet a brilliant day break
leaving me to, once again ponder an uncertain fate
Snow Warfare DreamsSnow Warfare Dreams.
Tiny white unique soldiers floating down from Heaven's gates.
Each and every with it's own path, tempting the fates.
Bundled up and warm, I gaze upward.
Watching and contemplating my next move against the on coming horde.
Daydreaming of hot chocolate, and a little vibrating ball of fur sitting contently on my lap.
His golden eyes shut, deep in a nap.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, the white warriors have fallen to my size eight and a half vehicles of mass destruction.
Soon I will be home to make my daydream a true life vision.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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