[x]

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.

lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming warmth of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment before I heard you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the first second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along

Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for?
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude

False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen

ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).

False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.

False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for

Psychotic ramblingsI, in the eternal void rest,
Am the unwanted thirteenth guest,
Insane, deranged and psychotic,
There are people who even call me sick.

Isn't it joyful and greedy to demand
A sacrifice of strangulation at the reach of the hand?
Cure the poisoned in a prison built of mental sand.

Murder is the solution brought by the resolution.
Is this the final, one and only conclusion?
Better think again, there will be no retribution.

Death is not the liberation, just the beginning.
Is there eternal peace? The solution is sinning.
Unacceptable lies become the truth, the chaos keeps spinning.

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire

WakefulI remain awake with dreams on my mind
and stories that wait to be knit into books.
To never find comfort until my pillows are
stuffed with thoughts instead of feathers
To never let go until I made sure that
the moon smiled back at me
Until the trees, the grass, and every night creature
has whispered good night...
And yet I'm still as wakeful as an owl
afraid that sleep would somehow
grab my neck and drag me to my grave.

Shared HappinessI like it better when you're happy.
The world feels like a safe place -
A good place to be.

Stay happy, even in the face
of great adversity
I know these last few years have been...

Well, difficult, to say the least.
But as long as your heart shines
I can hear it...

That devilish smile on your lips
the one no amount of miles
or hardships can erase

Remember, I'm always watching
With the eyes of my heart
I see you clearly

And, as long as you are happy
No matter where this life leads me
Then I am happy too.

Watercolor PainWhen you smile,
I turn colorblind.

It turns into a somersault
whenever I gain contact
with your skin,
bare back touching
bare back.

But I'm not hungry
for bedposts.

I just want to
savor each moment your arms
lock into mine,
the romanticism of
the moons in my eyes
and the skies in your words.

There's smoke
behind all those hues
of hazel and your fingers
are porcelain,
but I still love you.

bad nightmy mistakes are on my head,
and the cigarettes taste like metal;
on the street curb of a suburban block,
the lights jaundiced and flickering
like drunken fireflies, your reflection
that emanates from me covers every face.

HumanDear Hypocrite,

What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

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MasqueradeDance with me
Put this lovely mask upon your face
Move your body softly
To the illusion of flawless grace

For this night only
Forget you're societies abused pawn
Let the music sway your body
As the party steals your soul til dawn

Be swept away in mystery
Glide effortlessly across the floor
I'm lending you oblivion
Can you really ask for more?

Don't ask any questions
You're not meant to know
The faces we have now
Aren't real but just for show

Switch hands in this fair waltz
Listen to the words crooned sweetly
Don't like what you hear
Then change partners ever so discreetly

Come mingle with the colorful crowd
The attendees

Just One of Those Days. . .Well damn it
I have to say
I'm perpetually confused.

Somedays I feel like I'm thirteen years old
just hitting puberty
like getting that
proverbial brick wall
whack in the face.

Other days I feel like I'm eighty
feeling my back give out
facing imminent doom every day
being horribly lonely
and like nobody is listening.

And then there are the days I feel like me.
Plain, but still attractive
in that next door neighbor girl way.
Smart, with options wide open
and the hopes for a successful future.

Hell, I know I'm intelligent
above average in fact.
But jeez, what the fuck
am I supposed to do
with what I have?

Can't handle s

What Did I Miss?Woke up this morning
and for once I was cold
as my feet touched
that familiar pale wood.

Looked out my window
and thought it would rain
so I pulled on my t-shirt
then went back for my sweater.

As I walked out the door
bookbag firmly in hand
a leaf crunched under my sneaker
I had to stop and look down.

Then I had to look around
when had the leaves turned
quite that color?
when had they begun to fall?

Quiet amazement took me
while moving to the car
my head finally rising
above my feet.

When had fall appeared?
the air to become crisp?
rain to fall frequently?
trees to go naked?

When had my eyes become
so inturned
as I m

PromiseI can't promise you forever
Though I truly wish I could.
I can't promise you perfection
Cuz I have more faults then I should.

I can only promise you friendship
And all that it entails.
I can only promise you support
For if your courage ever fails.

I can't promise you strength
Because I sometimes lack it too.
I can't promise you unity
To see hard times completely through.

I can only promise you faith
That I will do my best.
I can only promise you comfort
When I lay your heart at rest.

I can't promise you lies
When you don't want to hear the truth.
I can't promise you clarity
If I can't produce the proof.

I can only promise

Dissolved GirlShame
Such a shame
That I'll never understand
the basic fallacies
Upon which you're based

Really hasn't occured
That rich need
To know
Who you present.

Such a shame
I can't get
All the principles
You repesct

Perhaps it doesn't matter
That driving want
To see
the clauses of your mind

Such a shame
That I won't follow
The laws that govern
Your addicted world

Shame
Such a shame
Friendship's overrated anyway.

The Labour Rep. Committee1. History class 1901
My valed prison
Trade unions,
Can I form one?
To argue fair wages?
(Since I have none)

2. February 1900
Back in time,
To 1899,
Ramsay MacDonald,
Traitor, socialist,
secretary, historical,
and soon to be forgotten,
figure.

3. Taff Vale, general
Election
My dear!
Am I in Wales?
stomach rumbles loudly,
looks around, frowns.
Good. . .
No one noticed.

4. Elections, by-elections,
ILP, LRC, MP, LP, CP,
TV, TUC and every other
letter.
Have to hide my non-reading,
And non-writing,
And non-paying attention.

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Endless Nights

by ~Rhoswen, Mar 2, 2008, 6:44:04 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Oblivion eludes me
as I kneel in
supplication;
on this vast wasteland
the sand blows
in mine eyes.

Sticks to my lips,
chokes the words
to garbled
sentences unsaid.
The dust gathers
and tumbles.

No water to quench
the unbearable.
Each dream peels
off my skin
leaving me raw
and bare.

Shivering in
the wavering heat
I face;
my mirage.

Sandman,
Morphing Lord
of Dream,
of Endless.
Why deny me my rest?

Your kingdom
is not mine.

Pay me my dues.
Escape from these
shifting sands,
fathomless dunes.
Give me, grant me
sleep.

Endless Nightsby ~Rhoswen

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Lack of sleep cripples everyone. We don't get our seven or eight hours, we don't function. Or at least I don't. This is another Sandman poem. The barren wasteland of the space between sleep and waking. The sand that blows in my eyes, not sleepy dust, just something to blur my vision. This is my plea to the sleep giver, grant me rest.

~Keahshu Mar 3, 2008

I like!! *nods* and I miss you like a-son-of-a-bitch!
YOU HAVEEEEEEE to come out and see me soon

~sire011886 Mar 2, 2008

Ummmm...awesome and unexpected, Rhoswen. This piece inspires me to write some Sandman poetry.

~ Anti

~Rhoswen Mar 2, 2008 Writer

Always happy to inspire. Thanks muchly!

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Endless Nights

Endless Nightsby ~Rhoswen

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