[x]

Graduation DayGraduation Day:

They told us we would be alright...

We had fought with honour and won our titles.

We had overcome trials together -

Watching dozens of our siblings fall in the line of duty.

For this they had promised us, a wondrous welcome;

A bountiful world of adventure, with a myriad of paths.

All this, they said, awaited us in the stone cities.

Large metropolises, where the working folk resided...

There were hundreds of us, who made that journey.

Walking miles across the scorching desert,

Clinging to a hope of the fortunes beyond.

Yet what awaited us was not a promised land -

Nor was it a life based on the merit we had earned.

I wish...I wish I was a monster
So I could be kind
And break the stereotypes.

I wish I was colored
So I could respect people
And break the stereotypes.

I wish I was a man
So I could be kind to women
And break the stereotypes.

I wish I had male friends
So we could all be..
Just friends
And break the stereotypes.

I wish I had autism
So I could prove that autism,
Does NOT mean "dumb".
And I could break the stereotypes.

I wish I could change the world.
But sometimes, you can't break a stereotype.

Only stereotypes, can break you.

Lingerhow can i move forward,
when the fingerprints of my insecurities
are still lingering within my chest,
pressing against my ribs like piano keys?
i am just waiting, for the day,
when the saddest parts of me
are overcome with songs of serenity.

Pretty Blue PillsPretty blue pills,
shiny in my palm,
the ticket to my peace,
to my eternal calm.

They're so perfectly round,
and soon they'll be in me.
The closest to perfect
that I'll ever be.

They go down so smooth.
Five, ten, fifteen and twenty.
Soon I'll be gone.
Twenty-five and Thirty.

That should be enough,
but I'll play it safe.
Thirty-five and forty.
Now I have no more to take.

The bottle is empty,
as empty as I feel.
None of this is happening,
too good to be real.

But soon I start to drift
into a dark unknown fog.
Somewhere quite distantly.
I hear a muffled sob.

But I blow it off as fake.
Nobody could possibly care.
I doubt anyone's noticed
th

You don't just die.Do you understand?
The blade against your wrist
Doesn't just slice your skin.
It cuts through others
Hearts
Souls
And sanity.

Do you understand?
You don't just kill yourself.
You kill everyone.
Everyone dies
Everyone cries
Everyone suffers
From YOUR goodbyes.

Do you understand?
You don't just die.
You take everyone down
With you.

PhantomWhen life
or fate
or whatever it is
that puts things together
and takes them apart...
when It
amputated you,
it left me
with a phantom
limb
and you are still attached
to my body
when I dance
and make love
alone

ten ways this breakup isn't meant for the movies1.
you go out for twelve eggs and come back
with half a dozen and a new girlfriend.
you hold the eggs out to me like
six dead birds is enough of a peace offering.

2.
i push the eggs out of your hand and stay
with my hand over your heart as i watch them
fall. if they do not hit the ground, this is all a dream.

3.
the eggs smash on the tile and splatter
on the cherry wood cabinets, newly installed
that cost me two paychecks.

3.
the egg whites hit your leather shoes that
you’ve worn for two months straight
because you think they make you look more sophisticated.

3.
the egg whites hit the fridge halfway up, barely touching
the moose mag

Dear friend,You have to understand, dear
The reason to why I run.
I run away from reality
From the lungs that cannot
Take anymore smoke
From the heart that threatens to
Stop...
I run away because
I'm a coward
Because I'm afraid of life
Afraid to care or love.
I'm afraid that every time
I'm glad it blows up in my face
And that every time I smile
I shed a million more tears.
That's why I run, dear
You have to understand.
I was destined to be a fighter but
I don't want to fight anymore.
I was destined to be a warrior
But how am I supposed to win when
The war I fight is against life itself?
I know that I always blow everything up but-
I keep stepping on mines, dear...
...I keep stepping on mines...

ellipsisshe goes to sleep
clawing at her chest with pinpoint accuracy
for an emptiness she can’t describe,
but hates all the same. tomorrow

she will write a letter: “dear boy,
i always wanted to be somebody’s
flowery poem, but the verses carved in my arms
are riddled with ugly clichés. & you are why

i don’t sleep through the night. if
we were a language, i was the
subordinating conjunction, you were

the punctuation.

i remember you in staccato
conclusions, solemn absences
of goodbye”

brain squealsI beat depressions in the earth
for my brain squeals and waves
that burst in my wet ears
until something makes me drown.
I will. (again) V.

Virginia,

put rocks in pockets
and walk right in --
I'll drink your overcoat
until your throat weeps
and your soaked hair
weighs you down.

I promise.

with love,
Ouse.

P.S.
brain squeals are from cold sweats
sleep well.

TearsI am not afraid to cry.

I am not afraid for you to see the tears

My tears.

Don’t tell me I have no heart.

Don’t tell me I have no soul.

For without them I could not cry.

You may not see my tears but they are there.

I have learned to let myself cry for the things I’ve loved,

For the things I’ve lost.

They are silent tears, but they are mine.

So let me cry.

Let me show you I have a heart.

Let the things that touch my heart be shown through my tears.

I am not afraid to cry.

I am notI’m not your little boy.
You’re not my little girl.
I’m just someone you met,
And wants to change the world
I’m not the prince in your dreams
I don’t have smarts or might
I’m just the one that screams
And cries to sleep at night
I’m not who you want me to be.
I will never be what you are.
I’m myself, I am free.
I’m not ashamed of my scars
I’m not that weak
You’re not that strong
You still have company
But I’m still alone
So I speak
Though this poem.
It’s not a pretty love song
I’m just saying what pains me, explaining what’s going on.
Because I am not perfect,
I’m not retarded,
I’m just like you,
Broken Hearted
Never forget,
There is always a reason to be
And I won’t regret
I’m always happy to be me.

combatantI.
it strikes me
that this woman
could be a palace.

I marvel at
the opulent dome of
her brow, her arch
expression—

skin like a courtyard of
ivory tiles,
a thousand intersecting
golden lines about her
head and neck.

she beams from atop her
sunlit tower,
beatific and beautiful,

spreads her arms like
open doors,
invites you to be one of

the many
who have wandered her
lavish halls.

II.
I’ve often thought
of myself
as a castle:

all rough-hewn stone
and turrets,
a temper like molten
tar.

my head is crowned
with
embattled parapets,

weapons readied
at the crenels.

I look out from my
guerites, my brattices,
eyes like arrow-slits

Second ShadowThe hand on your shoulder
The whispers in your mind
The words on your tongue
The voice in your throat
And the feelings in your soul

To drive to madness
To seduce the insane
To draw the blood
And dull the senses
To plague the memories
Of damage done
To fake safe haven
As the character changes

Light the anger and fuel the rage
Another mind to feed
A second shadow
To take you into eternity

They Called Her UglyThey called her ugly
and she screamed that she was beautiful
because that is what she believed
and They screamed twice as loud
and They left a small scar on her arm that was
big and red and bright
for all to see.

They called her ugly
and she yelled that she was beautiful
because that is what she thought she was
and They yelled three times as loud
and They left a bigger scar on her other arm that was
big and red and bright
for all to see.

They called her ugly
and she said that she was beautiful
because that is what she hoped
and They just said it louder
and They left a scar on face that was
big and red and bright
for all to see.

They call

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glass worldThe glass world stood unbroken
and spun on the swivel
little a'light could shine through
because the world takes everything in

Then I learned how to mold
and the right temperature to heat
to change the world into a square
with edges and corners

and I sat myself down on the corner
and watched as the world slid
instead of turn
instead of turn

not a human being
can reach me here
for I have sat myself down
on glass that i have made

for I have molded the world
and I will always look ahead
instead of turn around
instead of turn around

a sorry day for all our livesIt's a sorry day
for all our lives
for we're all
used to
common sense

your sleep deprived
and your fingers
can reach around
your wrists
but you don't need no one

It's okay for you today
to take back all you say
it is all fiction instead of fake
although the rules of love
don't apply in make-believe

you don't need no one
but one to believe

its a sorry day
for all our lives
for the sands of time
fell more or less
the same

souls applaud
as we pass by
angels blow kisses
warmth in flashes
like a camera lens

we left this world
in seek of nothing
there's nothing more
for us today
but it seems so foolish anyway

your s

teach this beastteach
this pig
to be
pretty

and teach
that
monkey
to fly

like in
that book
with the
spider's web

or that
movie
about the
land of oz

some things
will always change
and some things
are well forgotten

some things
will always change
and some things
we'll forget

perfectionif there ever was a thing as perfection
it'd have to be less
than 100%

because something without faults
can never truly be loved
by any one person

a few words so cliched nowadays
but i love you just how you are
perfection isn't perfect

perfection, nonetheless, is having those faults
and accepting them as yourself
and not a mutation

because something without faults
can never truly be loved
by any one person

friend of a familytomorrow his mother
must go to see his brother
in the court of law
this bridge cannot be burned

today the younger
just doesn't know better
his brother in jail
his bail too high to see again

this night the middle child came home late
and was smacked across the head
and was threatened with a belt
by his stressed mother

and there i stood and watched
as the younger continued playing
with pencil toppers he imagines as soldiers
for he cannot afford the kind made of plastic

the middle man stood offended
for his brother was used as an example against him
he simply avoided the whip with a hot pan in hand
of which held the dinner of

the kings of serenitythe kings of serenity
one with power, one handsome, one angry
despite the disputes of their past,
the kings formed a trinity

many seasons settled in
before the kings met again
many seasons settle in
until finally they met again

the country held its breath
not one man went unchecked

the feast could not turn to disaster
we must avoid there deaths
but no man planned to kill that night
no one thought to try

the trinity of serenity
were there to make things right
ham, steak, wine and sage,

the feast seemed to last for days
time grew long he could not wait
the king began to show his rage

"listen here you lowlife scums,
are we g

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the artist

by ~limitless1797, Feb 25, 2011, 6:49:40 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

she carries on like mona lisa
beautiful, yet mysterious in her origins
i asked her if her mood was hot or cold
she painted a picture in my mind

with a brush of the hand, she painted a boy
who seemed to move away from resolution
i wondered if the boy played dull
to lower expectations

i opened my eyes now, and saw the girl
she asked me if i understood her
how could i, just a curious soul
ever try to answer?

so this artist of the mind
continued to sketch
the pictures that she painted
that she etched into my mind,
became less of a mystery
as the sands of time
grain by grain fell

She painted now with watery colors
a picture of herself at two
she grew up in a boarding school
where girls worshiped the almighty one

then the colors flashed a holy white
the colors blackened out again
the life drained from her mother
like the emmotion did her brother

so, she said now paused once more
do you think you know me more
do you think anyone cares
about a silly girl in her silly world?

And the answer was yes to no
and the silence met continued to grow
her eyes looked, and fell like snow
the mood, i knew now was cold
and the sands of time
grain by grain they fell

the artistby ~limitless1797

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

...

~TGfascinated Apr 6, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

This is beautiful, and I leave the poem hearing the echoes of the words "silly girl" "silly world"... and I feel the cold as my eyes follow the falling grains of sand.

Very nice work.

~limitless1797 Apr 6, 2011

thanks, im going to check some of yours out, expect some favorite notices and a watch list

~TGfascinated Apr 6, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

Well, thanks!

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