home written stuff journal of rants bad poetry - a word about poetry at this point.. there is really no such thing as a bad poet.. because poems are just words that come into the head from the heart and more often than not, that heart was pining over some lost love when the teachers were fussing over english lessons in school. Be gentle to hearts cos they often don't get very much education. reviews escape (evil rant) they know me david - do technocrats need large feet pete - real blog kellie - real blog

Reason Like a storm that comes in bruising The ocean, the earth and the sky An overt craving for reason To reveal, to provoke, to ask why And it must be a mighty fury That can slash at this land and these trees To bring about some clearing Or overwhelming desire to appease For this heart-cage has grown so well Its strong with thicket and thorn And has lasted through many beatings Through friendship, love and scorn So how strong is the tempest Is it need or curiosity it rains? Because if your need for answers destroys this Our lives will carry the stains. Here and Now In the darkest hour before the dawn When the coldest of the night pours into your head A deadly fluid of people and places Of all that was heard and all that was said. And while you sleep, this nightmare rots The tender roots of a happier time Leaving a desert that on waking Burns behind your tired eyes Piece of my Heart Here it is all bloody and torn This piece of my heart And I could have sworn you were there The day it ripped free I could've sworn you were there Looking through me Perhaps you felt something Break Or maybe you were silently, courageously Planning that mistake By which we would know our end Then again Perhaps I was alone The day it was clawed away. Faith Do I take this step, this Indiana leap I've spent these years thinking over? Do I dare the drop and the gasp? Can anyone do these deeds sober? In their mind and determined in nature Or is it just a daydream? A complete nomencalture Of my own well-worn fantasy. Of my own making Well smoothed by hands that create And erode without taking Another second of thought. But I tell you, who writes the rules That determine how far I'll fall? If my faith is groundless What purpose have I? What Truth is there at all. Lies and more lies until there is nothing more. More Words Black black river Is it blood that flows so slowly along that rut? What of it? Are you aware that those aren't eyes Staring you down? Those are the tiny prisms of hell Spinning you around around and down Into the rut Am I the one doing this? Am I the one upside down? Poem about a tree A beautiful tree I loved Grey and crooked and dead It had no leaves to whisper with Still its voice would fill my head Its branches were all twisted It looked neglected and unkind This tree it had no pity As it scratched upon my mind Until I forgot my name And no longer could I see Still it kept on kissing Destroying all of me They found me wholly souless When they came upon the tree Still clinging to its trunk For all eternity And so it is with love Blind to every fault In the object of affection Who launches their assault Who has mind to leave That has already given over Their hopes and dreams forever To their eternal lover How does pain subside When its caught up in the branches Of all you wanted to know And your many forgiving chances Not every love is consuming Not every man this way But I can't unfix my eyes From the love I see today. Poem about being fixated on trees Epic stories and poetry To the trees they go so clean As if the faery queen herself Had carefully placed them there And no man is left so empty That he can not find a way Back trhough this forest of words To the truth in the fledgling day When a girl sat staring through A dense spirit or was it glass? And saw her dream-life unfolding As her real life drifted past Unnoticed did it go hidden in the lies Until it shone the brightest Like a sun before it dies Even then she could not heed it Or bring it to the fore For her eyes were firmly fixed On that window and that door Through which she hoped to speed With mediocrity at her heel And her real life it was gone Leaving something much more cruel And even Titania's wings Full of sheen and light Won't fly this girl's tale Into safe branches for the night So stand up now young traveller There is a way straight out of here Don't waste a second on more words That will trap you in your fears. I see a new sun rising And flowers mark your way Go forward while you have the chance Take heed of every day. Frustration and lot's of ands I want to write what my heart says But how can I ever translate Death and duty and deceit and love and power and poverty and strife And the pain of almost living Of folly and mistake Of dreaming and hoping for rescue And of rescues come too late Flowing over and over forever In the whimsy of tempers unleashed In the arms of selfish lovers With death and strife and deceit And the joy of almost dying The blackness closing in Pandora's burnt soul is flying Mine is just brandishing A sword of heavy satin A knife with perfumed blade Wishing forever to have left this place And cursing my prayer to stay Sparrow who are you? Sparrow in my heart from a storybook I read He is a child or children, he is something to me He somehow twists my heart with his chatter and his song Sparrow is always there Is he something incredibly wrong? Or will I find an escape on his back one day? Sparrow, won't you simply whisk me away? I'm stupid and I know it because his words are not like mine He can not understand me when I sing or scream or sigh But I will keep on trying Because he is something to me I don't know why.. but he is something to me.