Lullaby of the Banshee (poem)

I don’t want to spend another moment
In the arms of which will one day let me fall
I don’t want to keep moving forward
Because I know one day we will stall
Please don’t look at me that way
Stop trying to make me smile
For now everything seems so perfect
But it won’t be in a little while
Don’t try to wipe my tears
Just let me cry
Because one day you’ll leave too
And it’s all I will have to fill an empty good-bye
Don’t fill my mind with hope
Please don’t tell me not to fear
I don’t trust in love
Just let me be stuck here
Just go now before it starts to hurt
I already feel it sting
I’ve already said it once before
Happiness my heart does not bring
I want to lock up my own heart
And throw away the key
One day I will mean nothing to you
So leave me to hear the lullaby of the banshee

Truly remember

 

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder, treason
Should ever be forgot.

Remember, remember the fifth of November.
Kill the king, praise the Pope,

Guy Fawkes and his plan for murder–

Truly he is a symbol of hope

Remember, remember the fifth of November
and what it truly meant:

Indulgences and Inquisition.

Remember what his plan truly meant

Remember, remember the fifth of November…

Poor princess Elizabeth was only just nine.

But no one was equal, Protestants should die

And just like kidnapping and murder, it’s all perfectly fine

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
freedom to worship does not mean just you.

Fawkes’ hypocrisy would never have been known

If his plan had gone through.

Hands

In the dark your eyes are reminiscent of torches.
Glistening in the still of a night where rain is echoing in the soil.
A calm breeze cuts through my frail skin.
Oh, how it’s calling out my name, calling to me like the ground calls out to the sky where they coincide.
My attention belongs to you, just like it has all along.
Hesitant I am to reach out to you, for fear of being burned.
Hold my hands here, until the time is right.
Shimmer with fire glistening off of my skin.
I am right next to you, so don’t shelter your light
Holding closer now, closer than ever.
Still, my hands, are not.
Hope is closer now, closer than ever.
Still my hands are trembling.

Reflection of Angels

Hope she’s in a peaceful place
Where it’s not 106
and war is not drunk
with the polluted river water
that terrorists bathe in.
She was fourteen and murdered
raped
Her family saved from living with the horror.
They were killed as well
and I want it to say something
about war.
Like a bug crawling from a
silent, dead mouth
and I want there to be a point.
I want there to be outrage.
Not the quiet reflection,
understanding almost,
that she gets as she tells her story
to the angels seated at the still water
in the marketplace
of the shining city.

Got Hope?

 

How Cute

How Cute

Tonight I went to the movies with a couple of friends, and as always I just HAD to be saddled with the one guy on the face of the planet who still won’t smuggle in treats. And his new best pal, my friend’s boyfriend. Who also pays ninety three dollars for pre-chewed pretzel bites. But I digress Full Story