Who We Are

(I really love this poem. It's...poetry and the power of words and us all mixed into one. Hope you enjoy it!)

We are the poets of the world
Artists of the word
Creators of the rhyme
We see a million futures
In all the pasts left behind
We defy the definitions
But conform to form
We explore the outside edges
Where reality's been torn
We trespass into dangerous lands
We follow foggy paths to unplanned destinations
We set convention on its head
Inside out, upside down
We take practicality
And spin her 'round and 'round
We weave hormones into phrases
And neurons into stories
We speak of the unspeakable
We sing the unsung glories
We disect the alphabet
And cobble together new words
We listen to the colors
We see what has been heard
We halt the ticking clock
To examine all the facets of time
We use eloquence
To change the recesses of the mind.
We know the power that words can hold
They can start revolutions
And heal lost souls.
So welcome to our world
It's a priveleged few
Who know that boundaries are...boundless
And so are you.

Frances

Yesteryears have left strange thoughts behind.
In this central bowl of knowledge I spoon through leaflets and pamphlets
trying to let it all digest
in a manner which I can understand.
Yet the past isn't opening up to me.
Nature's not being what I need it to be.
So tell me Emerson, Whitman
let your century old breath whisper to me
what's next?
I've kept my sabbath all by myself and I'm still only where I started
calling out to a God I fear can'r hear me.
I've read your essays and your speeches
I've peeked into your personla lives and what I found
were just leaves, just grass
(a smell I unknowingly despise).
Your will was stronger than my own
your democracy stands enumerated through time,
when will you allow this light to shine on me?

Beggars can't be choosers
but choosers can be losers
can I can't go back to Confucius
because he was meant to confuse us...

Eve's furies are shadow-cast over my every bend, turn, and twist
How do you justify this?
I've looked into the past
and in every reincarnation I've been slaughtered and underminded,
I've been used to wage wars and slaughtered to make peace.
Tell me where I stand.
Tell me where I stand amongst God's and peasants-
adorments of either diamonds or coal

I've been searching for the answer but
age-ed leaflet's haven't spoken yet,
will they whisper for you?

Deidre-Ann Fuller

I'm under the gun
And above the petrified remnants
Of the plastered smile society.
I'm once again gliding,
Not to touch the pavement.
I no longer scream at night.
Into the tunneled memory of my failures.
I appreciate the thought,
But I don't want your poison.
You're punished by the anesthetic
That lines the walls of your wound
In healing pinstripes.
Disinfecting the memory
Of the nights you picked the scabs
To relive each battle
That you fought in the
City of Fire
Sing in me Sinister Muse!
And tell all our friends
The story of the sulfur
And the lies.

-Steve?-

What will you do?

When the world turns cold,
When silence falls like rain,
When the stars are broken
By all the pain,
The choice becomes obvious,
But harder to choose,
Stuck in limbo right now
Choose wrong and you lose.
You gamble all
That ever was and will be.
The brightness blinds you
Indefinitely.
When the Earth turns dark,
When sunlight falls gray,
You bet just to reach
Another day
But if the cards are wrong,
If they play you,
What then? What then?
What will you do?

~Frances~
(Not the best, I know, but it's summer and writing at all is an accomplishment at this point!)

Painkillers For Each Beautiful Throb

She bulletproofs the silence
Of these isolated streets.
They once were bright with the faces of misery.
She sweeps the dust away from the feet of the shadowed corpses,
Arranged meticulously as to portray what
Goals their cold eyes once represented.
I don't want to be hospitalized for this disease.
The cancerous love spreads,
Killing the cells and reproducing.
Her perfect gaze,
Sweetly caressing the life out of my thoughts.
A picture of her soft lips,
And entrancing eyes,
Is plastered against my skull.
I could live in this beautiful paralyzation untill I die.
And even then I suppose
She'll be my mind.
My unfufilled fantasies
Will have eternal life.
I just hope that the buzzards that will gnaw at my brain,
As I lie in the vast field off the interstate,
Will find you as attractive as I did.
Bloated admirers of yours will flood the morgues.
Merely just seeing your face on a passing bus,
Will commence
Your sexy
Epidemic.

-Steve?-

The Twilight poem has arrived!! ~Diamonds in the Sun~

Why can't I fit the sun in my pocket?
Feel its warmth against my cold skin
Warmth that comforts my troubled thoughts

Why can't I put the sun on my nightstand?
See it's rays as my eyes open from sleep
Rays that outshine the shadows in my nightmares

Why can't I hold the sun in my hand?
Listen to its songs that fill my ears
Songs that remind me that I'm not alone in this world

Why can't I keep the sun in my heart?
Fill the hole with its unending love
Love that could, possibly, make me forget the diamonds that cloud my vision

Why can't I have the sun forever?
The answer to that is simple:
The sun will burn out in time,
But diamonds are forever.


It has finally arrived!! I hope everyone likes it :) Hope everyone is enjoying their summers, and I hope to see you all before I leave for school (aaaahhhh!!!). If I don't, I will definitely come back to visit and I will put some of my college work up here.

Take Care Everyone!
♥Kendra*

The Imminent Occurances Of Postmortem

As some of you guys know, I have elaborate theories of what happens to the soul when the corpse eternally draws its lids over the eyes. This is one of my most recent ones.

They are all wearing masks,
Shielding the eye from truth.
Underneath, the enigmatic metal
Emits hate in ultraviolet rays.
They gracefully swim through forests
Of doubt.
Wavelets of proof rustle the leaves
At the surface.
In the darkened, rocky, bottom,
They show each other
What is truly under.
Their metallic sheen,
Illuminates the false assumptions.
And scares away the deer,
Fleeing in a school,
Against the current.
They need to surface
Or they drown with the lies.
Defiantly scouring
The vast heavens for an answer,
The smoke emitted from the burning clouds
Enters their elongated nostrils in tendrils
Of question.
WHY DOES LIFE CONITNUE?
All organisms just seemingly loiter in the barren void called earth awaiting their Imminent incineration,
Brought upon themselves by sin.
Senseless lust for eternal life.
Fornicating amongst themselves with theories.
Greed towards their deceased friends,
Who are already bathing in the fire,
Cleansing them of faith.
Our masks are flammable.
No matter which way we go after death,
We'll be exposed.
Whether by the flames of hell,
Or the warming flames in the fireplace of heaven,
After the pulse becomes parallel with the lines of latitude on the maps,
There are no lies.
The departed can no longer find a hiding spot in the jungle that lacks autotrophs.
Truth prevails and the liars learn that an admission to heaven can be revoked
By the dreaded pitchfork that stokes the fire burning our masks.

-Steve?-