Self-mutilation

I think I'd like to pierce a vein

Watch it bleed & feel the pain

I think I'd like that very much

So much more than I lover's touch

A lover's touch is unbeknownst to me

I know I'd rather watch me bleed

Pain is always been a friend of mine

Bc I'm certain it's the end of time

Nonpartisan

I'll tell you what I think today

Of this "soul-creator"

I think that He's a selfish fool

An arrogant dictator!

First, He forces us to live

Outside of our control

Watching as we propagate

The confines of this fishbowl

Then He says to worship Him

Or we all shall be condemned

To blindly kneel before His feet

His word, we must defend?

I tell you that does not remind

Me of a mighty being

For being so omnipotent

He's not very agreeing....

For, the only God I could love

Would never ask me to

He'd never force unto me

Things He, Himself, won't do...

He doesn't have to show His face

He does not seek conviction

He would not leave a mortal trace

No need for crucifixion

Now, I am not an atheist

Their arguments are lacking

But if there really is a God

Wherever He is, He's laughing!

Because no man can know His thoughts

They cannot speak for Him

So, to me, religion's just as lost

For, we all have been forsaken!

Now whether this God does exist

I'm afraid we'll never know

But Whoever created all of this

Did not do it on His own

So, before you believe a man-made God

I'd ask you to think twice

We do not need an eternity

To be appreciative of life!

The Way You Lie

The sweetest sound I have ever heard
Was one that most would find quite absurd

It was when I had found myself in a bind
By people who had found themselves undermined....

They asked me right away to relinquish the truth
Something I was simply unable to do!

& just before I admitted defeat
A man yelled out, "it wasn't her, it was me!"

Now, I would NEVER ask one to fall on his sword
But by the way that he lied, I couldn't help but adore....

His demeanor so steady, his voice, not even a squeak!
Such a selfless act followed by a beautiful technique

So, yes, the truth is that I fell in love with a lie
& after all of this, it was love I'd deny...

Rest In Peace

**Dedicated to Ms. Pat James**

As I watch the bright stars pierce thru the night's sky

I find myself a little more than preoccupied...

I think of death, & how to be

A person depleted by their lost identity

Making my death impossible to fear

Despite how much my life is revered...

It's confusing to deny the sanctions of fate

To wish that time could somehow abdicate...

I've died before, it wasn't enough

The result is now my skin is TOO tough

So, in the end My soul has learned this:

Every death is sealed with a kiss...

Tranquility

When you feel your heart's about to explode

You mustn't ONLY bite your tongue

You have to reason with yourself

Take a deep breath & fill your lungs!

It's ok to let the anger in

As long as you know from where

To feel the heat overtake your skin

& acknowledge that you actually care

Because feelings are a constant fleet

I've learned to pay no mind

You'll never (again) find me off my feet!

Instead, I choose to always be kind!

So reticule me all you want!

Please, I beg of you to try!

A calmness now controls my soul

Hence, I need chaos to feel alive!

It was me

Everybody hates me

I can't say that I'm surprised

From the moment of conception

I was born to live a lie

Like a curtain makes the shade

A veil to cover the eyes

The weight of liberty's chains

Is what I've always despised

I knew my cards before they were dealt

The truth is I cheated myself

Thus, I'll proclaim in my final flee

It wasn't you, it was definitely me

Lessons

A child strutted down a gray gravel lane

That laid between a rose garden fenced frame

The young boy ran his fingers thru the brush

Filling the air with a strong floral musk

Suddenly, he retracted his hand with a wince

When it snagged some thorns on the rose garden fence

He cried aloud as his fingers ran red

The kind of yelp his mother did dread

So she descended from the house which they lived

To find her young son waist-deep in roses

She pucked him from the garden with care

& inquired in the first place, why he was in there

He replied to his mother, he wanted it dead

To kill the rose that had made him to bled

She cleared her throat, smiled, then said,

“My dearest child, do not be misled. Killing the rose won’t cure your bloodshed.”

This made the boy cry even harder it seemed

He already killed the rose in a vengeful fury

His mother smoothed the tears from his cheeks

Cleared her throat & again began to speak,

“It’s ok to feel bad. It’s all apart of life. After all, what is happiness if not in contrast to strife?”