Where am I from?

A place where tall buildings overshadow narrow streets and bright lights reflect off crystallized buildings to dazzle our humanity, a place bright enough to shine over our barefaced rulers and business men who take pride on their paper, the paper they have cheated so hard to earn.
Liars and thieves are respected and innocence has no value. It was not always this way, I remember the same barefaced people stroking my hair as they walked by. They would smile and laugh at others happiness…And now they believe no one cares for their humanity, no one cares.
Where did we fail? When did innocence run out? When did our most dishonored become our champions? When will we learn?
I hope it is not too late.

I still love you.

The skies seem grey
And colors lost without your eyes.
The worlds my stage
But nothing without your lights

Love is no game
But something tells me deep inside
There is a chance
You will be mine

And I still…love you baby…
And I want to hide behind your smile.
And I still…love you baby…
Won’t you give me a try?

I saw a girl sitting in a train
Who had blue eyes…
She looked at me and I could see
The dimples as she smiled

I looked outside and I could see
A house by a tree
The red roof it had and the children played
In the shade of green

…..and I said…

And I still…love you baby…
And I want to hide behind your smile.
And I still…love you baby…
Won’t you give me a try?

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

A long time (Poetry)

The clouds have gone and the moon turned to sun

and now she has come for me

So lay down your arms and let it pass…

illness or sickness shall never last

So will she tell me what bothered her…

the illness now gone that smothered her??

And death will not come to pass just yet…

you have a long life with no regret

So don’t you trod on hollowness for it will go and life is bliss

If you keep talking i tell you miss…

I’ll give you something beautiful like a kiss

And now she’s gone oh i have sinned…

if only i told her what will come of this

This is what I give to you…

a page in a page with morning due

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Battle.

I hold my thoughts at bay laying in my bed. Just because it is a battle to get out of it. My thoughts are rushing now and the second hand ticks like an hour. I try and get away of all this world has to give me and find comfort in a few friends. Of which some are those who I have never met. I battle with myself everyday getting out of bed. I twist and turn to find peace and yet I cannot. I cant gather myself up and eat something so I keep battling myself to get out of bed. My hands shiver for no reason and my eyes are numb though it is not the season.

Is the Earth not glorious enough?

I just have this conversation in my head…Why is it a battle for me to get out of bed?

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Imagination

We closed our eyes and got closer. Gently taking ourselves in warm embrace. Her lips brushed against mine and our eyes close slowly. Our minds leaving behind everything in this world and our hearts only thinking pure.

I wait for her sweet kiss but it does not come. I wait but she does not say anything to me. Then my mind flies off wondering and dreaming of all the wrongs that could have happened. Wondering why she could not want it as much as me.

So I opened my eyes and she was still there smiling back at me. I asked her why she did not kiss my ever so sweet.

Did she not want to?

She said she did…So I asked er why I could not feel her soft tender kiss……Why I could no feel her soft tender kiss….Why….

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

May the wind carry us through.

So I asked her…

Will you let the wind blow through your hair?

…so that I may step outside and try to feel you through the wind and these distances shall be overcome…when countries break borders and let us in and the sky and earth shall become kin.

…And she said
your words are beautiful

…And I said
the beautiful brunette that hides behind a picture.
My words are inspiration and without inspiration I am nothing.
You are the one who inspires me…

…And she said
you are quite the poet

…And I said
you are quiet an inspiration

So she became my poetry…my inspiration…as her beauty slowly flowed into my words.

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::