Forgotten

Oh, the ones out there

They call and call, but to no avail

Once

Once in a very blue moon,

Yet not as blue as you’d think

They are heard

Over on this side

Long

And oh so lost

And overwhelmed

They cal and call

Cries in the night

Whispers in the day

Afraid of themselves

In the open sun

Afraid He’ll hurt

Those

The innocent

They come out,

Slowly

Closely

They want our acceptance

They call and call, but rarely to

The ones they loved so dearly

Until we become them

Apart of them

And we’ll one day call and call

To no avail

Cries in the night

Whispers in the day

Lovers

Lovers

There are only lovers

No true loves or others.

Starcrossed or coincidental or spontaneous

Lovers are lovers.

We will never find true love

It does not exist.

Not now, not ever.

Love is only as love is,

But yet, we make it out to be
A phenomenon beyond scientific explanation

Beyond words

Beyond feeling

Metal

Stinging metals.

Bitter metal.

What does it taste like?

Smells like?

What could you use to describe it?

Nothing. Metal is metal.

It's dull and without emotion.

void of feeling, cold to the touch.

Forboding and unforgiving.

reprimanding of all who abuse it.

So why do we all know

from such a young age,

the taste of metal?

Sad.

Penniless

Remember from my very first blog post I said I'd try to get a penny tiled floor?

       I wasn't kidding. Here's my collection so far!

FOOD!

Screaming Chinese Pancakes

Fruit and Spaghetti Fun!

Beans on Tostitos!

Mummy Finger food!

Brakes

You are the brakes in my car.
Burning and glowing dim in the dark Unders
You toil and wear until one day you break.
You need constant care,
a maintenance thing, they say.
Why do I bother?

Alas, you are the brakes in my car,
the one that cares for me,
enough to pace my thoughts.
You toil away until the day,
you're outdone your share.

I thank you, for you truly are the brakes in my car.

Love's Away on a Holiday

Love's Away on a Holiday

Those days, our memories

The seamless past.

Dancing giddy and gay through the trees.

Flawless in its beauty

Beatless, patternless.

Arbitrary in itself.

Who knows.

What I do know is that this can’t be it.

It can’t all just end here.

We have so much to live for,

If not today, then tomorrow.

My summer's day

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

All hot and gay?

Muggy and sweaty,

Heat strokes and stings of a bee.

Where for art thou?

So radiant like a sun

The one that glares upon us

in the late afternoon, and thus

Forcing us forever indoors
to waste the summer days
rotting away.

Humid air, frizzy hair,

Helpless, the weary child.

Oh, shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Suffocatingly dry,

With droughts and floods,

All over the world.
Why oh why

My oh my, what a variety of scenes

To enjoy.