Song Bird.

I'm sitting beneath the old oak tree,
Feeling light and feeling free.
I hear a sweet song fall upon me.
And I slowly drift to sleep.

The song birds voice is full of magic.
It can be beautiful. It can be tragic.
All the other birds wish they had it.
And so that song bird sings.

I can hear its melody in my dreams.
As warm and comforting as summer sun beams.
My consciousness is ripping at the seams.
I feel I may never wake.

The song is powerful and truly hypnotic.
Stronger than the doctor's narcotics.
With a foreign tune, harmony exotic.
This music; so unique.

This fowl is a symphony all on its own.
Wings like drums, vocals like a xylophone.
Talent in every feather and bone.
I wish that bird was mine.

But alas, that bird is forever free.
And so it flies away from me.
My dream is over. I begin to see.
I am all alone.

So I stand and I look around.
Knowing well, that bird cannot be found.
And when I am done I sit back down.
And shed a single tear.

I do not cry because I'm sad.
I do not cry because I'm glad.
I do not cry because it was bad.
I cry because I know.

I know one day soon I will return.
In hopes that I might possibly earn,
That song for which I always yearn.
From the lovely song bird.

Eleven Mondays.

Not a beaten, broken child
Not a victim of abuse
Never saw my daddy drink
Never felt his fierce fist.

No ghostly memory in my past
Except that one…
…and that’s not so bad

Screaming from shadows cast aside
The sun drifts away from where I hide
Such darkness echoes through these halls
Such painful reminders upon its walls


Such life I seemed to once portray
Such naivety begging to be betrayed
Weaving ghosts call out my name!
Whispering demons discuss my shame!

So why do my eyes burn with tears?
Why does my throat tighten?
Why do I feel heavy?
Why can’t I answer “why”?

No traumatic past to haunt me
No scars of abuse
No maltreatment

Yes I’m different
Yes I feel different
No, I don’t understand

There’s no reason for this darkness
No cause for this turmoil
Insanity it may be
But I feel sane –

– Can I feel sane if I feel wrong?

Not a happy, healthy girl
But they don’t guess I’m broken
Not a cheerful, smiley girl
Still they don’t know I’m hurting

How can I talk about this pain
When I don’t know its causes
How can I talk
without words?

I can’t
I must
I can’t

The Old Graveyard.

Across the dark expanse my worries flew;
Nothing made sense
Spinning in all directions
The ground shifted beneath me
It came closer and closer
Faster and faster
Until I hit a Cool damp pavement
The taste of hot blood
Running from cheek to chin
Jumbled thoughts in my head
My head reeling
Questions swirled in my ears
Spinning in different directions
My eyes wanted to close
I tried to crawl
The grass came close to my nose
Cool, damp, earth

Old, dark and scary,
The gate eerily creeks open.
A ghastly breeze in the air.
The winds carry the cries,
Down towards the town.
And everlasting song is heard.
Tombstones everywhere,
Two or three angels in sight.
Whispers and cries can be heard in the air,
Echoes of the people who shed their tears,
And whispered their prayers to the dead.
Not a single living form is seen,
No flowers or plants,
No birds or animals anymore.
People hardly ever come up the hill,
To this old rundown graveyard.
So the dead are free to roam,
These hills of the old forgotten town.

Behind Shattered Glass.

Lighting flashes brightly across the black satin sky,
The greenish gray clouds with their Erie glow,
Race across the sky like winged giants,
Who howl their threats to drawn Her with their bucket of rain.

She is Left in the hollow vanity,
A fracture shell of life,
Breaking shadows,
Bursting through incandescent lights,
She cant fix the broken; 
She cant beat the bruised;Her Tears fall with no one to catch.

Black as night eyeliner,
Bloody red lipstick,
Dresses that seem to float as bat wings in a windy night.
Yet a kind smile.
Nail marks behind Her back,
Knife cut scars on Her wrists, 
She picks up a piece of shattered glass
And drags it across her thigh
She presses a little harder....
And on her face there's a smile with a twist.
 
She gets home
And keeps her mouth shut
Of course, its after midnight,
Her dad is belligerently drunk


She doesn’t have a mom
She ran out when she was twelve
She has no other family,
She has no one to tell.

Even if she did,
She probably wouldn’t
Cause facing the pain was something
She had to do, but couldn’t.
These are the rods that cripple her heart;
They Pierce every dream;
Every steamy passion loses it essence;
Until She becomes a bleeding lump;
Some terminal canary
Imprisoned in her head.

The thunder roars
The lightening flashes
The rain adores.
When dust settles but then it blows;
Suitcase in hand, hastily packed with trembling fingertips
A cut on her wrist and a smile on her face.





Your Questions, Opinions,Criticism & Ideas are humbly welcome. 
Thanks for your minutes,

E-smiles.

Unopened Letters To The World.

Cold sunday evening;
Looking at the frame...
She has tears that are scared of her face,
She grabbed a coat,
She headed south.
To the local beach..
The wind blew,
Across; the leaves fell.
The wave from the ocean is unsettle,
She moved a little closer..
Her hair was moist;
A little fertiliser.
She thought of all that has been..
She moved a little more closer..
She let the water flow;
It settled at the tip of her toe..
She moved....

When blue skies turned to gray,
She settled and lay..
She felt the chilly sand..
She ran her hands through her hair,
It was thick; Like his palms
She watched the lovers ride the horse,
Her mind was restless,
She was Hanging by a Moment.

And then the moon shone,
With the reflection of a shadow,
She saw his footprint..
She knew he has gone with the wind;
Which causes the ocean to be unsettle,
She remembered magic;
Then She imagined her,
His decision; Something she wasn't,
Maybe prettier; Maybe with a virgin hair
Maybe her waist is like a heap of wheat,
Maybe she had a Dark hair; brown eyes
Maybe he saw the world in her eyes; maybe he was blind..
But Like the wave; she was unsure
As brave as the golden sun.
She stood up;
With the tip of her finger,
Inscribed "love is a beautiful thing"
And watched the unsettled wave wipe it away.
Yes, There it was;
Her unsettled fear of loving again.;
Her unopened letters to the world.

The Leaving Song; The Leavers Dance; The Lonesome Road.

Black and Blue and Shades of Gray,
In dark hope and lost love
I sit cold and alone,
Against the brick wall.
The tears flow; A light Metalic Blue.
And I knew I was becoming weak.

The mystical water of the Night,
Flowing down my reddened check,
Into the depth of my skin,
Where There's a torn wall;
The Angel and A Dark River,
In my heart beat; Sounds the worries,
The angel cries goodbye;
The beast runs with the stolen heart.
This is the day of suffering
Oh! Oh! My purified soul is Free of love.

Broken souls fly on altered wings,
With riot witches over dreadful things,
Charming beasts sodomize your gash.
And you embrace denial,
Of being an accessory to murder.

You set my heart high above the clouds,
I let you reel me in,
When you got my heart as high as it would go,
You dropped me from the hands I trusted,
With the silence of the heart I adored,
My heart landed to its death.
There are too many pieces;
It looks like grains of sand.
I could never pick it up;
It slips through my hands and falls,
Into this sea of Darkness.

Tainted lives fill the fire and the lake
Death has lost its gravity;
The song has lost its rhythm;
The dancers have grown weary;
The road has been left to hate.

02:20 (Elevator Love Letters)

Breathe; Let Go,
Stretch your chin;
Move ur jaws,
Give movement to your tongue but
Watch the serpent in it
Dont be a beast without a beauty,
Hate but take time to love,
The sinner is fake and proud,
The sinner who doesnt Love,
My hands are cold,
My feets are numb,
Somewhere ill need a map,
Ill follow your footprints.
Love is not a castle built in illusions and false hopes,
Safe ur strength and say nothing.
Breathe the air of Love,
Exhale all your fears and doubts,
If I die,
I'll tell saint Pete,
That I cant come in without you,
Awaken not the leaves with the sound of mourning;
Women restling;Men sobbing!;
Kids with eys widen in terror.
For I speak to the one I love at the loss of my breath;
May death be far away from  your door.