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."

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

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear 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 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

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).

Chasing Butterflies

I believe in starry nights writing timeless songs
of all the yesterdays and tomorrows yet to come.

I believe in hearing the voice of love in rhyme;
I heard it as a child in my mother's lullabies.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

I believe in playing, absorbing life's full sun,
dancing through the day until the night is done.

I believe in wishing wells never running dry,
granting us the time for a tender, slow goodbye.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

Should I cross to the other side,
don't you worry; don't you cry.

There you'll see where tomorrow I'll be,
forever chasing butterflies...

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.

Evolution of life

child, we dream
teenager, we have ideas
adult, we have a bar code encrusted in the nape

we evolve to finish in the matrix

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

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

On The Collapse Of Modern Society"I've never seen so many folks
putting their hopes
in packaged air,
as far as I'm concerned,
and from what I've observed
misplacing material worth while
rushing back and forth
to get nowhere."
my Grandma said,
shaking her head.

Within A BoxIt's a prison for the minds of haunted souls
an odd prison, not large enough to contain its prisoners
and yet it encompasses every fiber of their being
in silent, silent spaces.
Haunted souls are searching for the key
there is no key, but they don't know any better
and what harm could it do? Hope is better than nothing
here's an unlocked open door for you.
Little trinkets haunt souls with their questions
and we want answers, but they won't give
anything away. Very smart,
you know the world is ending soon.
(The best of which are only
crude descriptions of the magic
they are looking for.)

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.

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

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Predetermined

by ~Wandering-Heart, Dec 2, 2010, 3:10:09 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Not a choice
So they say
I have no say
In who I love
Who I want to make love to.
Well I say no.
I say I can choose.
I chose girls.
Girls are softer, sweeter
More complex, more naieve.
They don't hold
The coarseness of men
Or at least
Theirs is a different kind of coarseness.
I chose girls
Because they are beautiful.
Maybe I was born like this
Maybe not.
But I choose to believe
In my own free will
My ability to choose
For myself
Where my heart might go.

1,199

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Predeterminedby ~Wandering-Heart

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I suppose this poem deserves a short explanation.

I've always heard that being gay isn't a choice, that it's the way I am. But I don't think it's completely predetermined. I chose to go with my instincts and love women. I chose to notice breasts and curves. I didn't choose to keep looking at guys, hoping one would come along that was good enough. I chose to follow my heart.

Like I read somewhere, once, "It's the difference between being dragged into the Colosseum, and walking into the arena proudly, with your head held high."

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File Size: 686 bytes

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~Cesar-sama Dec 3, 2010

I have always thought that homosexuality was not a choice. Still, people choose whether or not to follow their hearts and you have clearly done that.

Overall, this poem is very nice.

Great job!!

~Wandering-Heart Dec 3, 2010

Thank you! ^_^

~Violet-Minds Dec 3, 2010 Hobbyist Writer

I like the pride in your own choice. Too often have I seen the power of individual choice, as opposed to one's nature, be overlooked or underminded.

~Wandering-Heart Dec 3, 2010

Mmm. And gays as a community put a huge emphasis on it not being a choice, which undermines it even more, y'know?

~Wandering-Heart Dec 3, 2010

Exactly. Our choices are just as important as our genetic predispositions. As the great Albus Dumbledore once said, "It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

~Violet-Minds Dec 3, 2010 Hobbyist Writer

Way to hammer in the nail with a Dumbledore reference. Very true.

~Wandering-Heart Dec 3, 2010

... I just realized what I did there. xD Wow, I'm good.

~MJrainbowfrog Dec 2, 2010 Photographer

This is an AMAZING poem! And it is true that know one should be able to tell us who we can and can not love.

~Wandering-Heart Dec 3, 2010

Thank you so much! And exactly! If I meet a guy I like, by chance, I should be able to love him without having to wonder if I'm not a "good" lesbian. Love is love is love, y'know?

!calligraphy-x Dec 2, 2010

<long comment>

Wonderfully said, mi amiga! ^__^ You have such a good point here. WHO CARES if people "choose it" or not? I seriously think that people could sit down and have that conversation for years and not get an answer to that question of whether being gay is a choice or not. Because of that, I love how you say that it doesn't really matter whether you chose it or not; you're just going to follow your heart and do what you believe in. It's what YOU want and what YOU believe, and that's all that matters. (: Again, wonderfully said.

Gahh I love things with great messages like this! x3 And I don't think I have to say you're a stellar poet; we both already know that

</long comment>

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