Christmas Again But Black

A lover hung on her death row
I was hooked on her disease
Highly strung like Cupid’s bow
Whose arrows hungered meat
And the blinding flare of passion
In the shade of narrow streets
Where their poison never rationed
All the tips they left in me
Sick and weak from my condition
This lust,
To her alone in full submission
She haunts at the corner of my mind
She burnt me like a furnace
For my future suicide.

Dead man walking down the street

I seen this dead man walking down the street,
You can hear it out my headphones knocking to a beat,
But my spirit won't let go talking in my sleep,
Got me feeling like a dead man walking down the street.

Bass and Treble so clear,
Face the Devil no fear,
Trying to reach another level,
No Bezels nor beer,
Feel success so close,
Stepping so near,
Drifting like a ghost,
Hearing whispers in my ear,
I've been sober for a month,
Longest break in FOUR years.

I was driving eyes closed,
No change, No gears.
Put the throttle to the floor,
While the reins don't steer.

I just bottle up my pain,
Act as if I don't care,
Demons hollering my name,
Dreams swallowed down the drain,
Plus all you people don't care.

You probably do the same in year,
Felt like I lost everything but everything was clear.
So hallowed, no longer a role-model,
Who would want to follow a dead man walking down the street?

I don't even know my name cause life is so painful.
No-one plays nice but that's just how the world goes,
I try to do right but I don't believe in angels,
Plus I'm sick of living in my head,
Barely getting out of bed,
My mind clutters but my heart and fingers are like butter to bread.


I either make it back up to the top,
Or remain at the bottom of the gutter,
I always try to free-style with the best,
Cause when I write a rhyme it gets stuck in the back of your head.
Yes I'm a lefty, double pits to chesty,
I know I'm not the best,
Why do you all test me?
Ask me how I feel,
Feels like everybody left me,
Just like a dead man walking down the street.

Around You

I have a problem that I cannot explain,
I have no reason why it should have been so plain,
Have no questions but I sure have excuse.

I lack the reason why I should be so confused,
Left a message but it ain't a bit of use,
I have some pictures, the wild might be the deuce.

Today you saw, you saw me, you explained,
Playing the show and running down the plane,
I know, how I feel when I'm around you,
But sadly,
I don't know, how I feel when I'm around you.

The Deminish of Another Year

Breathing on the inside,
Dying on the outside,
Fainted wind blows,
As another year passes.

Darkened skies and full moons,
Light up a withered man and his desk;
Turning the page of yet another chapter.
To what fortune does the downfall hold.

No Fking Jesus

Jesus Christ, why don't you come save my life, now,
Open my eyes, blind me with your light.

If you want to get your soul to heaven,
Trust in me, now don't you judge or question.

You are broken now, but faith can heal you,
Just do everything I tell you to do.

Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow,
Let me lay my holy hand; a hand upon you.

Jesus Christ and Mother Mary,
Take my name and yell in vein.

I'm no f*cking Jesus, and
Jesus wasn't there.

Deceived

Outside of me, I look different,
yet in a sense I am the same.
Inside me I am confused,
and full of shame.
Outside of me, I am fearless,
bold and Conquering,
Inside of me, I am lost,
and steady wandering.
Outside of me, I attack those,
that try to deceive me.
Inside of me, I want love,
peace and harmony.
Outside of me, nothing matters, but
Inside of me,
My heart often shatters.
Outside of me, I am searching for something. but
Inside of me, I already possess it.

Lonely Days

A Lonely day
Its not mines
Its the greatest day of my life
But today it is not.

More lonely days
Much to come by
Days in the lonely time
Tonight is the lonely night

Tonight is the lonely day of my life
Where I lied in the lonely bed
The star I watch was lonely in the night skies
Some day the star won't be lonely

The morning breeze
The lonely morning breeze rises up
The day is the lonely day of my life
These days I can make it happen
Today is the lonely day

A lonely day
Its not mines
Its the greatest day of my life
But today it is not.

Countdown

To A Journey Not So Far Away

Life is a journey through many terrain
From gardens of pleasure to deserts of pain
From an ocean of love to a jungle of hate
From Mountains of glory to canyons of fate.

There's a highway for joy and a highway for sorrow
A Road for today and a road for tomorrow.

So choose your path wisely and walk with care
If you follow your heart, you'll find your way there.

I've been to the garden and planted seeds there.
I've been to the desert and felt the despair.

I've swam in the ocean and drank of it's wine
I climbed up the mountain to touch the sky.

I went to the canyon and started to cry
I've traveled both highways, both today And tomorrow.

I've basked in the joy and wallowed in sorrow.
My Path has been chosen and I've walked it with care.

I followed My heart and I'm on my way there

So I'll just keep walking till I find what I'm after.
To Mountains and oceans and Gardens of laughter.

To A Journey Not So Far Away.

Vision of The Abandonment

 Must I, for the sake of maturity, abandon my former self?

Is it too wrong to expect a little piece of childhood could tag along on my ride to adulthood?


Let me by, you bastard disciple of urbanism and commercialism, I don't need your baseless lies, your corrupting excuse for a man, for a life, for living.


Why does a man, heroic and true
whom knows the greatest sports,
venture into darkness
and cast his companions to Hell?


Fear.
Fear is the beating heart of all man;
the sharpest spear in the armory;
a piercing light in the vale;
yet, why, why does this Spirit
flee from us,
turn us aside,
and abandon us when YOU need him most?


Perhaps, better a great millstone
fastened round his neck
and to be drowned in the depth of the sea,
than to abandoned his charge in their time of need.


But all the same, charge or not,
abandon they will and abandon they must,
for fear is not yet what we see it to be,
for mortal man is but cowardly,
upon this day, thrice he will,
abandon his friend, before the cock's echo crows,
and the devil sleek smile upon his respites.


Yet, fear not,
for even in this dark respite,
merriment grows and much delight,
for the joy of the present will be thus compounded,
and the so called God returns, to avenge his brethren,
and when it does, Justice there shall be,
upon all the Earth, and throughout Eternity.


So, listen well, ye mortal fair,
for your souls cast penance upon the mire,
and within a time, upon the return,
you shall not again flee your charge,
for when you do, cast down in might,
for this so called God will be King, and all shall be right.


To be feared and abandoned can lead to such a gluttonous crime, but yet it goes on for days and nights. Each individual has a path and the path they choose is their own. 


I for one choose the long road ahead of me; where does it lead, who knows. 


This is The Abandonment. 

Vision of a Death and farewell

You told us how you weren't afraid to die,
Standing above the crowd,
We wish you well.


He had a voice that was strong and loud,
Well then, so long, We'll miss him.


Ranting and pointing his finger,
At everything but his heart.
No way to recall,
What it was that you had said to me,
As if I care at all.


You took a stand on every little thing,
Standing above the crowd.
Someone above the ground,
Someone who seemed to feel the same,
Someone prepared to lead the way,
Someone who would die for me.

You've claimed all this time that you would die for me,
To ascend you must die
You must be crucified
For our sins and our lies
Goodbye...

October is here

A cold day, though only October,
And the grass has grayed
Like the frost that hardened it
This morning.

And this morning

After the wind left
With its pile of clouds
The broken fence steamed, sunlight spread
Like seed from one field
To another, out of a bare sycamore
Sparrows lifted above the ridge.

In the ditch an owl shuffled into a nest
Of old leaves and cotton,
A black tassel of lizard flapping
From its beak. Mice
and ants gathered under the flat ground
And slipped downward like water,
A coyote squatted behind granite,
Her ears tilting
Towards a rustle, eyes dark
With winter to come.

Gloomy Days

Upon reading some of my works,
A friend asked me, “Why do you write
Such gloomy, sad stuff? You aren’t
Like that. Can’t you write something
That is more cheerful?”

I thought about what he asked,
And said, “I write of what I’ve lived,
Of past love lost, and of my life.
I can’t help rolling in the ashes,
It soots me.

Erica and Christina

About the story: This is a short story about two best friends Erica and Christina they weren't just friends they were like sisters they did everything together but, something sad happened in the story read the story and you'll find out what happened. This story is also about never let a guy control your life. and never do any thing silly as to kill yourself. Because there's always a way around.

   Erica and Christina 

   Erica and Christina had been best friends since they were young, they had the same personality and dreams they were like sisters they did everything together. And I mean absolutely everything .Then one day Erica found a guy who she extremely liked. And he told her that he liked her too. About 2 years later Erica told Christina  that her boyfriend ( Michael ) had become different. On a Thursday night Erica went to Christina's  house and asked if she could spend the night with them Christina asked her mom if it was ok and she said yes. When Erica was getting ready Christina noticed bruises on her arms and neck, all over her body , she asked her what happened and Erica told her that she and Michael had been fighting a lot, Then Christina said that's no way for your boyfriend to treat you. But Erica took no notice of Christina.

Then one night Erica called Christina  and asked  if she could come over to her house it was very important. That's when Christina decided to go to Erica's house in her pj's. She knocked on the door and Erica opened the door. Then she told Christina that she was going in the shower so Christina waited in her room. Time started ticking and She noticed it had been an hour. Christina heard scratching and noises from in the bathroom. She knocked on the door to see if Erica was OK. There was a scream so she opened the door and saw that Erica  had hung herself. Christina did everything she could to get Erica down but it  wasn't easy that's when she called the ambulance She stayed by Erica crying because she never wanted to lose her best friend.

When Christina turned her back there was a note on the floor next to Erica and Christina picked it up and started to read. And it said .

" Christina he raped me, I didn’t no what to do, I was scared in case he killed me if  I told anyone. I'm so sorry and I love you my bff. " an hour later  The ambulance came and took Erica to the hospital Christina was waiting in front of the room door that Erica was in .The doctor came outside and said that Erica was awake so Christina  went inside to see her. Erica looked so Bad. Christina wasn't sure if  she could touch her or not. Then Erica gave Christina a hug and whispered slowly '' I will never forget you my friend'. Then she drifted to sleep and  the machines went silent and the doctor came in. Christina was in tears and shouted just let her go. Christina didn't want to leave Erica. But she will always be in her heart.

Story by Stacy Ann

Chris and Lisa

About the story: This is a shot sad love story about two teenagers that were in love with each other but, never really had the guts to tell each other how they really felt. This story is also telling us that don't wait too long to tell somebody how you feel about em. 'Cause it just might be too late, and don't always go by what your friends say, follow your heart and dreams.

Chris loved Lisa with all his heart. But never really had the guts to tell her how he really felt about her, on the other hand Lisa secretly loved him too. But she thought she wasn't good enough to be Chris's girlfriend cause he was popular and rich. And, he was loved by all the girls at school. So, one day during lunch time at school Chris asked his best friend Eric what he thought of Lisa and Eric answered: 'Don't waste your time behind that girl, man. There are lots of girl in this school that will do anything to be with you. And besides I think she's ugly.

The reason Eric said that was 'cause he didn't like Lisa at all. When Chris and Eric was done eating Chris decided to go home with Eric and on their way home they saw Lisa. She was crying and seemed very upset 'cause she overheard Chris and Eric when they were talking. Chris didn't say a word to Lisa in fact he acted like he had no idea who Lisa was. The next day they followed her home from school making fun of her on their way home.

When Lisa got home she dropped on the floor cringe. She had a crush on Chris since they were young. But she didn't know what to do. When Chris got home he felt really bad about what he and his friends did to Lisa. So he decided to go to Lisa's house to tell her how sorry he was and that he really loves and cares for her. But, It was too late.'Cause when he got there he knocked on the door no one answered.

The back door was open so he walked in. He walked passed the living room and went to Lisa's room there he found Lisa lying dead on her bed. She had slit her neck. Chris was so upset and angry with himself . He knew it was his fault she killed herself. So now he could never tell her how he really felt about her.

Story written by
Stacy Ann

Tracy

About the story: This is a short and sad heartwarming story about a girl called Tracy, Tracy went through a lot when she was younger she lost her mom at a very young age and was separated from her dad for years.This story is also for every daughter who misses the days when her father carried her up to bed or taught her how to dance on the top of his shoes. It also reminds us all that no matter what, there is and always will be a place for daddy's little girl.

  
    

     Once upon a time, a child was born to Mr and Mrs Peterson and she was called Tracy. When Tracy was born it was the happiest moment of her parents lives 'cause the only sadness they had in their lives was that they always wished for a child but did not have one, but,  luckily for them god blessed them with one.
     When Tracy was about 4 years old  her mom and dad separated and Tracy was now left with her poor mother but although Tracy's mother couldn't give her everything she wanted she made sure that her daughter was getting a better education Tracy grew up to be a very beautiful and lovely girl. Tracy did everything her mother asked her to do and she was adored by the people in the neighborhood cause of her amazing personality she was a caring, kind and a helpful young lady.
      When Tracy was 7 her mother died from breast cancer and after Tracy' mother's funeral Tracy was taken in by her aunt. Tracy wasn't being missed treated by her aunt in fact all Tracy knew was that her aunt was her real mother 'Cause the woman treated Tracy like she was her own daughter. Tracy had no idea what happened to her mom and dad when she was younger 'cause her aunt decided to keep it as a  secret until Tracy was old enough before she could tell her. one beautiful day, when Tracy was 11 she and her aunt went for a walk as they were walking Tracy decided to ask her aunt some questions. The first question that entered Tracy's head was: ' are you my real mom aunt mary'? at first Tracy's aunt Mary pretended that she wasn't paying attention to Tracy but, Tracy asked the same question again: 'Are you my real mom aunt Mary'?.  There was no way aunt Mary couldn't answer Tracy's question now, aunt Mary  decided to tell Tracy her reason for not telling her everything that happened when Tracy was a little girl.
      Tracy seemed neither surprised nor angry. Then she quietly asked her aunt: will I ever be able to see my father again? Aunt Mary answered:  yes, i will do everything i can for you to find your father, Tracy smiled and seemed to relax a little. Many years passed and Tracy heard no news of her Father she supposed that he was dead. Then one very beautiful day Tracy decided to go for a walk as she was walking a  stranger called her. Tracy hurried away she was shaking with fear and breathing heavily. she did not dare to turn her head until she reached the end of the street. but the strange man still followed her, Tracy had no choice but to stop and talk to the man. That's when she turned and asked the man: 'Can I help you, sir'? And the man answered: Yes, indeed you can. I am looking for my lost daughter called 'Tracy'. Tracy was shocked and surprised when the man mentioned her name. The man asked Tracy if they could sit and talk for a minute, and Tracy answered: 'yes. Cause she was interested in what the man had to say. That's when he started to tell the same story that aunt Mary told Tracy when she was 11 years old.
      As Tracy's dad continued to tell the story a tear dropped from Tracy's eyes but, it was a tears of joy Tracy was extremely happy the fact that she found her dad after so many long years of searching without any luck. Tracy now decided to take her dad to see aunt Mary and introduced him to the rest of the family  that he hasn't seen for years and they lived happily ever after.


Story by  Stacy Ann

Sleep

Though wakefulness my domain
In sleep I remain,
For wakefulness is sleep
One shallow and one deep.

Hate

Hate is strong
Hate is free
Hate is all thats known to me

Hate is scary
Hate is dark
Hate will always leave its mark

Hate is mean
Hate is fear
Hate will always leave a tear

Hate is fate
Hate is me
Hate will forever, forever be

What is freedom

Webster defines Freedom as "the quality or state of being free". Is that what freedom really means, the state of being free? How would one judge whether or not they're free?

People have been brain-washed for years to think that freedom is actually free but, in reality freedom comes at a cost.

sacred key

Laid to the river,
Midsummer, I waved.
A "V" of black swans,
On with hope to the grave,
And though Red September,
With skies fire-paved,
I begged you appear,
Like a thorn for the holy ones.

Bared on your tomb,
I'm a prayer for your loneliness,
And would you ever soon,
Come above onto me?
For once upon a time,
On the binds of your loneliness,
I could always find the slot for your sacred key.

Fold to my arms,
Hold their message away,
And dance out to the moon,
As we did in those golden days.

Bared on your tomb once again,
I'm a prayer for your loneliness,
And would you ever soon,
Come above onto me?
For once upon a time,
On the binds of your loneliness,
I could always find the right slot for your sacred key.

Abandonment the Journey

I keep looking for comfort from you.
I sit and wonder if your love is true.
You see me crying,
Inside you have to know I'm dying.
Don't you see these tears,
Don't you see the hurt from so many years.
No one to listen or even to talk to.
Recalling memories that hurt me through and through,
The things you ask of me,
It triggers a memory.
Memories I'd rather forget,
Memories embedded in my mind, completely set.
The hurt, the pain and anger won't go away.
I wonder who "loves me" and will turn their back today,
I can't explain how I feel inside.
Feelings of abandonment rush in like the tide,
Ghosts haunt me no matter where I go.
All I do is love still, that you should know.
I wish you could understand,
I would be there holding your hand,
I would take away all your pain.
So in the end, you'd have a life to gain,
But for me, darkness is all I see.
No happiness for this guy,
The adult lives he life.
Taking on happiness, sorrow and strife,
I hope someday you'll understand.
Someday I hope you'll be here to comfort me and hold my hand.
Until that day all I feel is punishment,
Along with those never-ending feelings of abandonment.

June's Contest Giveway Winners

Congratulations to the following winners of June's poem contest giveaway.

1st place winner: Jessica  G. - One (1) Amazon Kindle Reader.
2nd place winner: Steven P. - one (1) $100 Nike Giftcard.
3rd place winner: Pauline E. one (1) $50 Amazon Giftcard.

Thank you all to whom sent in your poems, I personally had a fun time reading them all and furthermore, had a tough time choosing the top three.

Angel Of Chance.

Tell the man who repairs the wings for angels,
That one has fallen among the mortals on Brook Valley.
I lent a hand, she looked up at the steeples,
As if to blame them for the pavement beneath her feet.
She said, "I never much liked flying, but the job requires trying,
The hard part's avoiding buildings and concrete".

Spread the news, 'cause there's an angel in San Antonio.
Call out the paparazzi and the television crews,
Let the people choose,
Would a little Faith come to harm them?
Print the headlines up in the San Antonio Daily News.
It was just another day,
Like any other, other day.

A Tuesday afternoon,
I hailed a cab, a crowd gathered as it pulled beside us.
And somebody tore at her wings, but I helped her safely inside.
"I'm much obliged," she said, but the driver he looked shaken,
He said, "You're fakin', lady, who's taking who for a ride".
But then we floated up over the traffic, she turned the radio to static,
And she sang to him in Sir Chances's sweet voice.

We flew down the length of Five Palms,
She threw out miracles, it was a hysterical ride.
And if the crowd on the sidewalk looked skeptical,
She took the blue right out of their cynical eyes.
"It's all in what you feel inside" She said.


She shook the mayor's hand, and he declared,
That he'd hold a press conference.
The fans and protesters blocked the stairs to city hall,
"I'd like to thank you all," he said.
And when she stepped before the cameras,
It felt like a trial, but she smiled as the questions were called,
"What do you say to detractors, who claim you're just some actor?"
She said, "The question here, is 'Do I believe in you?'"

It was just another day
Like any other, other day,
But this day was grand.

Platform

The platform, watch the stormtroopers swarm.
The Death Star's more than the devilish dawn.
It's where Evil and The Force manifest their form.
It's no good without bad and no night without morn.
It's relativity, balance, stability.
It's creativity, talents, ability.

Rakka shift the modes of wizard and the warrior.
Hip hop up and move to strike like a cobra!
Gunbike is quick to be like "F* a rapper after what I'm after"
Friendly how you front, but behind me talking backwards.
Basically I'm down to build but stay ready for battle.
Plus most are goyim oh, uh, I mean cattle.

The catalyst of noobs, never rock the mic in vain.
Energy ain't created or destroyed, it's changed.
Gunbike will hit you with the Big Bang,
And theories that red shift couldn't explain.

Hey yo, Gunbike takes respect to perfect the art form,
At times a battleground where rappers get their hearts torn.
Cuz when I step off, then step back on,
Son you'll never catch me preaching what I'm not practicing.
World War II(2), Gunbike would of been the illest,
I know my hunger's real, I still get nauseous at shows.

My motto, I didn't write this but this I quote:
"It ain't where you put your words, it's where you don't"
End quote, and with this in mind
I bring flows more rare than Gunbike taking blows.
I never got killed, or frozen fifteen seconds back,
We can go rhyme for rhyme, line for line, or track for track.

And after that, the clan will react,
To the future, Gunbike makes a comeback.
2009 was confusing no doubt,
You'll catch my story of my game on VH1 Where Are They Now?
Tough for me, I'll be sixty in my prime,
Still making science and theories and dropping rhymes on time.

Hey, I've seen apathy, met love and know hate.
I get heavy on the mic, can you handle my flows?
Either you learn to adapt or you're sealing your fate,
Only brave when you more dusted, than I make disintegrate.
Between you and I, I'll tell you, here's the difference.
Arrow to your chest, point blank, your dismissed.

Never Returning

When you start going to the world,
never look back or go behind.
"Won't" does not do--"will" is the word,
the only right word you should find.
I also run without return.
I don't look back because I'm bold.
Anyway, what does mean the old Sun?
Well known old paths?
The door-sill that's old?
All these things you could cherish.
For these things your heart could run pettish.
But, i you ever do come back,
I have to say:
That's where you'll stay.
And just stay.

A boy runs to the world through his eye.
His head fights all those evening pleas.
He learns from a river how to fly
toward the oceans, toward the seas.
He learns from millions of sparkling stars
to reach the sky, to gleam and shine.
He learns from roads how to get scars
and boldly go forward to reach the divine.

It is dangerous like a snake,
it is dangerous like a shell
if my beginning is awake,
if it's always so good and well.
And I would like to run wild.
I hold my heart.
I shut my eye.
When I start going I won't look back
because I'm eager to try to fly.
I don't know where.
I don't know why.
I don't know what's hidden far behind.
I know that here--
as I cross a line,
they try to smear,
they try to bind
all that I find.

It is dangeroud like lightning,
it's dangerous like a shell
if my beginning is fighting,
if it's still so good and well.
That is why I run away.
That's why I run.
That's why I seek.
I make dawns out of the evening Sun.
Let the life learn how to flow
the very same way I have done.
I'm miraculous in a way--
when I start something I'm not slow;
when I start, I am eager and gay--
my impatience
and curiosity grow...
I don't know what will bring a new day
hidden in those fogs far away;
but, if I easily get the golden glow,
or if I have to go through the snow,
I'll always go onward and only forward.

I'll never, never, never go back.

King

If I were King, a butterfly,
walking on a rose,
would fly away and land upon,
a little girl's nose;
Then flap his wings and hop about,
so she could smell the rose.
If only I were King.

If I were King, every female,
would have servants at her call,
waiting on her hand and foot
to get ready for the ball.
If only I was just an ounce of a king.

If I were King, our dads and for-fathers,
would rest on their day off;
or maybe watch a ball game,
or play a round of golf.
If I could only be a King.


If I were King, the teachers,
would each day, be thrilled!
Teaching two dozen little empty heads,
just waiting to be filled.
If Chance were King.


If I were King, every child,
would have a companion of their own,
so they could sit together
and share some ice cream.

If Chance was King, if Chance was only King.

Run Away... Maybe

Hello, my name is Scotty and I will be managing Chances' blog; making sure all is up-to-date on Chance's auto posts and also responding to any e-mails you bunch have to ask. I personally do not have any form of contact with Chance nor did Chance leave me any but rest assure you, the readers, are Chances' number one priority.  Thank you all for taking the time to read some of the magnificent art that Chance continues to post. With that said, enjoy his latest poem "Run Away... Maybe"

Once again we are run down,
we are pushed down and hurt,
they try to help but all they do is make things worse.
People, they ruin our lives while trying to help,
lets run away maybe then we will be able to love who we want without being judged.
 They made us do something unexpected,
all because of stupid things that happen,
it's not our fault that people change their minds,
it's not right when they ruin our life,
if only they could understand that we don't need them,
lets run away maybe then we will be able to do what we want.
They hurt us too many times,
they made us hurt our loved ones, our family too many times,
they won't let us be who we want because of their life,
they have to go and ruin our live and make us hurt someone,
so lets run away maybe then we can be who we want..maybe.

Death; The Form Of Love!

A pretty girl meets a handsome man,
Once upon a Saturday night.
He takes her home and he kisses her,
And they make love with all their might.

Passion runs wild through the midnight hour,
And they're making love galore.
But in the heat of this moment,
Death comes knocking on the door.

Cause death comes in the form of love,
And it's as black as the ace of spades,
And we should all be leery of,
A virus that leads to Aids.

A pretty girl in a motel room,
She's with a very handsome man.
He gives the girl a warm embrace,
And a look that she understands,

All she sees is the handsome face,
Of this strange paramour.
And she's too naive to ever believe,
That death is knocking on the door.

Cause death comes in the form of love,
And it's as black as the ace of spades.
And we should all be leery of,
A virus that leads to Aids.

A pretty girl in a waiting room,
And she's as sick as she can be.
Because a doctor has just told her,
That she now has H.I.V.

A pretty girl on her death bed,
Just waiting on The Lord above.
And before she dies she reminds all,
That death comes in the form of love.

Dreams of Dreams

Let the crowd rise in front of them,
no longer in musical slum.
the crowd sings, and we stomp our feet.
while Slim Smith Experience is on the stage.
The guitar and bass sings to us,
it's voice is one of tunes.

We can see her in the front,
the one we all came to meet.
this is all just a dream to me,
but the crowd is at the edge of there seat.
Slim's on the bass,
Smith with the vocals
I turn off my alarm now,
To happily awake from this dream.

Nearly Unnoticed

Chance is lonely,
Even though you can't tell,
Chance is reaching out,
For what, Chance doesn't know.
Chance will continue to sit in silence,
And hope that someone may stumble across,
Chance and all of Chance's emptiness,
But they only hope that they do it in time,
Otherwise Chance will have drifted too far,
And Chance may let go,
Of whatever grasp of the world Chance has,
As Chance slowly fades out of the lives of everyone,
Nearly unnoticed.

Fame

Fame is no sanctuary from the passing of youth... suicide is much easier and more acceptable than growing old painfully. Some say fame is the brink of ones' life just before they truly realize all the downfalls they've had. I myself have had, and still is having, vast amount of downfalls in my life, to which, I know how easily suicide could be massed acceptable.

I ask you this ,what makes one achieve such fame; not only in their views but, also, others' views as well? If one was to achieve such fame than wouldn't one cope with the fact that it'll be a wash up in the end?

Visions of Hell

Have you ever felt like you've done a-lot but yet you always seem to have much more to do?
Have you ever had so much to withhold but yet they expect much, much more from you?
Does expressing feeling actually count even though the ones we express to don't seem to care at all?
Why do we waste so much time on the little things but yet, we spend so little time on the big things?

We, Americans; try to do so much bullshit in life for what? A simple pat on the back or a appraisal. I'm sick and tired of everyone complaining about how bad they have it compared how bad someone else has it. Why can't we all just say "fuck it" and actually have a day to our self without living with the consequences of tomorrow?
You want to know why?
Before anyone ever told you, we were trained, brainwashed you might say, at a early age to do these things. As a child do you get to make your own choices? No. Even as an adult you still can't make your own choices without someone telling you "No, don't do that" or "No, that's wrong". What ever happened to a little something called free-will? We're deprived of so much stuff in life that it's overwhelming if you stop to think about it. Life is over-rated, and so is the world that we live in, but yet anyone has done nothing to change the fact.
I remember back when, when mankind actually had a choice, had a voice in this country, and this was country was "The Land Of The Free". Now today I ask myself, what exactly is freedom compared to what it was back about ten years ago. Where has the freedom in land of the free gone? America is ruined and is turning into hell. Everyone knows this, no magic wand or someone stating "Change" is going to change this country. We've been far gone.

Now I ask you this America, what exactly do you think free will is compared to your own personal freedom?

(Comments opened to the public)

Visions Through My Eyes

Like tyrants assembled with tears,
Trembling like a tomb,
And singing like a statue,
Chance is as empty as the ocean.
My blind eyes scream in silence,
So this eternal echo will be known.
Given to the foils of time,
And shattered like plate glass,
You freeze within the fire.
Darkness now lives at daylight,
And shadows turn to the ghosts.
With all that shined is hollow,
You imagine unconsciously.
And pretending to sleep you realize,
Nothing is what it seems.

Lonely Nights

Lonely was the night, hooted an owl nearby,
slowly I glided , under star-studded sky,
Silver gown flowed, over the velvet moss,
waved dark tresses, reflecting angelic gloss,


Staring at the words, embossed in gold,
trickled solitary tear,silent and cold.


Blossoms lay dried,withered was her heart
engraved on a stone - Till Death do us part.
Each dusk, when sun goes down the hill,
arrives my apparition, serene and still.

Freedom of Free

Take those things I gave away back with you to hell,
There is nothing left in me to barter or to sell.
Tell your master my soul is his for just one night of rest
And I will be a testament; you are his legions' best.

Patiently, you watched for years until your fruit was ripe
And at my lowest point gave my lips this cursed pipe.
At first its' smoke seemed magic taking my worries away,
Then, it took all my dreams, a price too high to pay.

It took away my judgment; the good inside was bare,
Erased my love of people, made drugs my only care.
As I look into my tortured mind one thought comes to me,
The devil gives us nothing and nothing is ever free.

My Shallow Grave

Restless heart of suffering agony,
test this withered soul no more.
Fates laid hand upon my grave,
darkness beckons me home.

No rest or hope for the wicked be,
have I been so bad, I wonder.
Tell tale signs of life gone south,
rotting within my own flesh.

Now the evermore calls my name,
the dimension of eternities sleep.
Decay festers upon my bones,
wrapped carcass of a hollow shell.

Enveloped by death, a welcome shroud,
the hero of the grave returns home.
Finally peace can be mine again,
for life was such miserable sorrow......

Vision of my Dream

Careful must one be in picking his friends,
For the slightest mistake shall lead to calamity,
And even that it transcends.
So be sure to treasure every second of your amity,
Because each moment can be your last.
Wicked as the world can be,
It can ruin a friendship very fast.
That's what I'd like you to see.
This is just one of my visions,
as you can see it fit.
Shall it not be nice or cruel,
The vision is still mines,
Even till this day.

Glorious Faded

Life, the center of every living organism on this planet, some though, more important than others. We all "feed" off something whilst we know it or not. That's our only way to survive, to live, to have life. A good friend of mines once told me for every action there's always a re-action just waiting to happen. Sometimes it can be a good one or bad. Can it be we can control our actions to differ the re-actions? Is this why we dream, to take our minds off the re-actions of our actions? Why can't we just live life without thinking or worrying about the next step; or worrying about how to survive? I ask myself these questions day and night but fail to brainstorm an answer.

Am I just a tool? An anvil is a perfect example, and the rest of the world is the hammer. You pound at me all day and all night but yet I refuse to crack, to mend into your part of life. Yes, I'm a tool. Only one purpose and the purpose is to take continues pounds. One after another, day by day, the hammer pounds on the anvil, until the hammer has done what it needed to do or what it needed to take, but the anvil just sits quietly, continuing to take another hit; another slow, progressing smack. That's it's only purpose, one objective, goal. We are the widow-makers of life, and I'm the widower. Condoned inside myself, around life.

So mend me all you want, hammer me in all ways you can. Life is just a big tool, and life is life. This poet has seen enough, transcend.

Hidden Love

I cannot tell you now;
The wind's drive and whirl about,
blow me along no longer,
and the wind whispers at last;
Maybe I'll tell you then ---- Some other time.

When the roses flash to the sunset;
Reels to the rack and twist,
And the rose is a red bygone;
When the face I love is going,
and the gate to the end shall close,
and it's no use to beckon or say "So long";
Maybe I'll tell you then ---- Some other time.

I never knew any more beautiful than you;
I traced for you with-in my thoughts,
I have broken down under the wind,
and into the roses looking for you.
I shall never find any ---- Greater than you.