Keeping in touch with friends. Since Theron died, I've realized how horrible I am at keeping in touch (I mean real touch, not just call once every three months or so) with my other friends. I have three very good friends that I'm going to do everything I can to talk to once a week at least. One is Dilek, one is Emily, one is Chris Landry.
I'm also calling my sisters more. I don't talk to them on the phone much, but that's changing. I called the younger one last night.
Also going to yoga, pilates and zumba classes during the week.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
The Stranger by Camus
I rereread The Stranger and I get it now. What perfect perfect words.
Only took me three times.
Only took me three times.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Waterfalls.
“Waterfalls”
Ron is 31 years old and he is going to die. There will be flowers and food and black and white snapshots, tears; and I will be there with a poem and some words that won’t matter to anyone but me. I can tell them I know how he likes his sandwich. Roast beef, mayo and lettuce. Should I say he likes white women and noses? I can tell them that he loved rock and Goth and wrote poetry. I can say sweet things and no one will listen because he was the one who listened. Listened and---- there is a song inside me that sings when I’m around him. It starts off as a slow melody and violently peaks and dips and hugs the curves of the scales that play. Hear that Crescendo! From time to time it finds its way off of the page and leaps and bounds happily into the memories that are ours. Sometimes it dips so low that it hurts me in deep places. It is a song for soul mates, and Ron is mine.
When I was 17 I saw his feet pass by 11 times. I counted. They were in shoes that were black and red and had lighting strikes caught in plastic and rubber. I never thought to look up, only wondered at the shoes that passed back and forth in front of me. I wondered if the owner was aware that his Docs were incredibly cool. They looked like shoes that knew they were cool. Once upon a time they stopped moving, and I looked up. I found myself. I knew his fears were my fears and I wrote them in blood on my heart.
Then it was our time to bleed. His mother was gone, and his father was drinking; his father was crashing; his father was screaming and twisting and sleeping on the street. His father was raping and cursing and crying out to God to save him from himself. His father was gone, so quietly that I never saw the storm at my back. Then my father was gone, and we were swept away in the downpour.
Like a hurricane our lives changed, and we were holding onto each other on a raft in a great sea. I couldn’t see and he couldn’t see. We stabbed each other in the dark at night when visitors came to feed off our rations. We held each other in the dark of night when we were the only ones left. We were empty and clung to each other, like callous shells stuck together by habit, not choice. I couldn’t love anymore and I had nothing to give. He was dead and I was dying. I was drowning and I thought we would hold each other’s heads under water until we both stopped breathing. I was all he had, and I tried to die. He held my head out of the water and I woke up gasping for air in a bar with florescent lights aglow and naked men’s smiles that I thought meant ESCAPE. They really were Death. We held hands and I sobbed and he put me on a plane and I left the man who saved me.
When I came back I learned of his suffering. The suffering he did without me. I learned about the drug raids and the murder and the life he had to live. I learned about the hospitals and the kidney failure and the four tubes they drilled in his neck to make him live. He told me about the white girls who popped pills and sucked his dick so he could die. He told me about his deaths; there were two of them. One when I left and one when he realized what he had become without me. I cried and died and then it was time to live. But there was a day when we drove in the car and we passed a field of wildflowers. He told me where to find him in heaven.
“How will I know where to look for you, Ron?”
“I’ll be in a cave like a hermit; a wise hermit, behind a waterfall.”
“What if I can’t find you?” He smiled and held my chin.
“I know where you will be, under the willow tree, my sweet angel.”
I felt then for the first time that nothing lasts. Then the years passed and he watched and I grew and I flew and just yesterday he finally told me I was safe. And then there is today. And today is spinal taps and tubes in his throat and not being able to walk ever again. “1 in 3 chance” the text messages say and I pause and wait and try to think what to say but there is nothing to say, nothing to say.
“I’ll bring you burritos” I say,
“And sugar-free cookies?” he adds.
Of course love. Of course. And I’ll call your sister who threatened my life and who said I’m no sister of yours, because it’s hard to understand what it means to have a soul mate. But because I can’t be the only one to love him, I’ll call. Onions of layers of years of love, and only me to give them. I’ll peel them back. I’ll find the center, I’ll let you bite. I’ll give you what I have to give and it won’t be enough. There is not enough time. And we pray for vibrancy but the world is now dull and we live in slowed heartbeats of moments in color. Our hands touch and the nurse turns away from the black and white and we become something else behind her back; something floating and colorless. We sail and dance and I kiss him goodbye. It is silent and bright outside and I must go on. One day it will be time to search for caves beyond waterfalls, but not today.
And the simple truth is: I have lived because of Ron. I have lived because of him.
To know you.
I know you, slender lips and neck
All rough fingers and supple touch
I know your hands will play want to play with mine
A harpsichord of gentle downward tune
Crescendo into softening eyes and tongue.
A novel on your lips is left unsaid
And I, tracing the pages with hot fingers
Breathing in each word with combined breath
Like brail upon the page your sculpture lies.
To know you is not an answer
But instead a declaration…
An ellipses trailing into fading night
Magic hour times the dusk with us in mind.
Tenderly I wonder if to write a poem
If to find a pain that passes
If to hold a man who’s passion
Rare and violet like an orchid
Tumbling headfirst into acid
Is not better in its bloom.
The light of awareness
The Light of Awareness
You and I were spinning.
(Was I spinning?)
I reached out my arms, bare and long
white and cold, to touch you
but just out of my reach,
you spun away.
And perhaps the thought of an experience
is better than the experience,
once it happens,
I cannot take it back
and it wasn't like it was in my dreams.
It was orange
and pink
and red and brown.
Marks fell around me
and onto my arms.
I wanted you to pull me out of myself.
Instead we danced and
nothing happened.
Less awareness was my intention
but without cooperation I cannot feel myself.
And still you wanted to sit in my car
and talk, and talk while the sun rose.
You never realized there aren't words to say,
I had to kick you out, make you leave, have you see that
I am nothing
I am just a girl who fell from the sky
who needed to break with you
but you insisted on breaking my fall.
And now I see you for who you are
A gentleman-boy.
I think someone forgot to tell you
that in order to love
you have to break with another.
my poems
Just under that layer of smiles
I have to keep rolling
keep talking, keep rolling
so that the iceberg is always showing
and there isn't time to delve beneath
the tip of my persona
I can feel it trying to melt into the deep water
the black of myself
and I roll forward,
as soon as I stop
it will shatter me
it will fill me with despair
I will crumble in tears upon my mattress
and stay that way, contorted until I sleep
But if I keep rolling, keep talking,
never stop,
I can keep it at bay for awhile
until it hits me like a tidal swell
and I am crippled with it
my depression
always just under the surface
and me trying not to fall through the paper-thin floor.
I have to keep rolling
keep talking, keep rolling
so that the iceberg is always showing
and there isn't time to delve beneath
the tip of my persona
I can feel it trying to melt into the deep water
the black of myself
and I roll forward,
as soon as I stop
it will shatter me
it will fill me with despair
I will crumble in tears upon my mattress
and stay that way, contorted until I sleep
But if I keep rolling, keep talking,
never stop,
I can keep it at bay for awhile
until it hits me like a tidal swell
and I am crippled with it
my depression
always just under the surface
and me trying not to fall through the paper-thin floor.
Our magic hour does not overlap
Or even coexist
We are separate
You coming first
Hyper and messy
And I trail, picking up the pieces of the wreckage at evening’s dusk.
-A clock that will last for 60 years.
-A calendar that never will be.
-One lost string from a song that wasn’t written.
-My not-tear, wet against my fingers.
But,
You’ve already learned that it’s easy to pretend dreams don’t have faces
You can be selfish
You can be
whatever you want to be, boy, in your dreams.
You haven’t yet learned that life is harder to live in the dust of your boots
Or worse- another’s
No, don’t turn around boy
No need to see me in your wake.
Keep walking
Keep walking
toward your magic hour.
Validation
(Why is it so addictive?)
A world can go from voice filled
to silent in a day
and it's so quiet
there is no one to tell me
how lovely i am
and how they never want to be more than two feet away.
the oxytocin has run out
and I'm dry everywhere,
brittle-
the addiction
needs feeding
but I'm alone,
and it's so quiet here.
I started a journey
that he broke in half
and now I'm two steps back
from where I began
looking for validation again.
Maddy
The Rush
By Jennifer Tem
There were only two hours between our births. Our mothers were born a month apart. Both of our fathers had died in the war and both of us were the first child born. Both of us were females with a rare birth disorder that left us struggling in the ICU in the first hours of our lives. We both had names that started with K and ended with IE. How much more of this can I tell before you start to writhe with disbelief? Perhaps I could have gone on for another few sentences, about our matching birthmarks and yellow-gray eyes. But eventually I’m sure you’d call bullshit. And you would be right.
Maddy and I were not born two hours apart. Our mothers were not born a month apart and although both our fathers were dead, Maddy’s was dead from an overdose and mine was just dead to me. I grew up in the lower Bronx and Maddy grew up in Ohio. It wasn’t until a dim night as an undergraduate that I met her in a dark bar in New Orleans. Somehow the same country loneliness ran through us both, regardless of our different upbringings. Both of us wanted a father we didn’t have, and looked for him in every man. Both of us hated ourselves and the world and only were happy when spinning into a downward spiral, and we weren’t even happy then. Not truly. It’s what brought us together. We needed the company of another failure.
The first time we made love was in a rainstorm in Peru. No, it wasn’t. This isn’t a romance tale. The only time we fucked was a night when both of us were drunk, and I was crying. Maddy was high on coke and so was I but at some point my drunkenness outweighed everything. I took her home where I lived with my sister and her husband and she held my hand while I cried over the shit pile that was my life. She left me after a time and came back with bourbon and we took shots and kissed. Her fingers seemed to know exactly where to touch me. I remembered at that moment what a friend had told me about making love to another woman was like making love to yourself. But it wasn’t romantic and it wasn’t love. It was loneliness amplified by the knowledge that we were already two very fucked people.
We woke up next to each other with the smelliest breath and hangovers from hell. I had to leave; I left her there on my bed like that and called a friend of mine and we had sex, normal sex that you have between a man and a woman. I tried to not think about her but my mind kept wandering back to her lips and her fingers and our deep friendship. When I returned Maddy had left a poem on my pillow from Pablo Neruda. I held it and thought about her and wondered why everything that happened seemed so far beyond my control. Later that night she was at the bar. I was already drunk and she was already high. We came together like continents crashing in rushed time.
“You left me”
“I’m sorry..”
“What are you scared of? Don’t we deserve some happiness?”
“Maddy...”
I looked into her eyes and saw everything I was afraid of becoming and at the same time already was. She ran her hands through my hair and I reached up and kissed her deeply, forgetting all my preconceived notions and faults. She could be my PERSON. I WISH I could tell you this story, but I was a coward and I left her at the bar. I didn’t go back the next day, or the next, or the next after that.
Maddy disappeared from my life. I don’t know what happened to her. Later on I did some traveling, had my heart broken a few times and looked for love still. Then I thought about Maddy and how I had left a girl cool enough to leave me Neruda poetry on my pillowcase; a girl who understood me. I wish I still had that poem but nothing is sacred enough for me not to destroy. There is no happy ending…I’m alone now only without Maddy. Wherever she is, I hope her hell is more forgiving.
Love and Raki
Love and Rakı
The American girl blinked in the sunlight. She reached up through her thick blond hair; her foreign hair that stood like an exclamation point in this country of dark haired people and slid sunglasses onto her face with a slightly trembling hand. She didn’t want them to see her cry.
From inside the café, the waiter placed two rakı on a tray while watching the Turk and the American girl on the balcony. It was early for alcohol, he thought. Tea would be better. He didn’t like the way the Turk was sitting either; his lips so pressed together in anger that they were turning white.
On the balcony the Turk and American girl faced each other across the table.
“You have to choose” the Turk told the girl through pressed lips.
“We talked about this when I moved in. The night we drank Bourbon till 6 am.”
The girl readjusted the cushion on her chair. On it was a familiar white star and crescent moon against a red background, the Turkish flag. Simple and traditional, she thought, like this country. She loved it here. Here she could be whomever she chose, redefining herself with every conversation, every relationship.
“That was every night.”
“I know; that’s my point. We’ve talked and talked and talked and you never listened. You never listen to me” she said, accusingly.
“You never know what you want. You say you want to live one way but it’s all a game. You just want to do whatever you want to do and you don’t care who gets hurt.”
“Yeah. You are so right about me,” she said, sarcastically, rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses.
“You hurt me.”
“How? I’ve told you from the start that I didn’t want this. It’s too much; too soon. I want to take things slow. Not rush into anything. I’m not ready. “
“You don’t know what you want. And besides, things have changed.” He said, ignoring her question. He pinned her arm to the table with his hand, forcefully. She jumped a bit in her chair.
“You don’t even try to underst…”
“I read the letter,” he said, cutting her off. “I know what you told him. You told him the same things as you told me! “
The American girl stopped breathing. She felt as if someone had reached into her lungs and ripped her breath away.
The door closed softly as the waiter stepped out onto the balcony with their tray of drinks. He placed one half-full glass of rakı in front of each of them and asked the man in Turkish if he wanted him to pour the water to mix the drink. “Hayir” was the curt, negative response of the man.
While the waiter stood over the table placing the drinks and talking in Turkish to the man, the American girl’s world stood still. Her heart pounded in her ears. He’d found the letter. She repeated it to herself, over and over. I was careless, she thought, panic drying the tears in her eyes. She felt nauseated.
“How did you find it?” were the words she finally managed to say, sounding mangled and weak as she inhaled for the first time in what seemed like minutes.
“You were careless. You left it open on your computer while you were walking earlier this morning. And now your game is over. I know what kind of girl you are! Such a liar. “
The Turk reached over and poured water into her glass from the pitcher. His lips had all but disappeared in anger. They both watched as the drink turned from clear to milky white. She picked it up and took a sip. The anise was overpowering, but welcome. If he was going to kick her out on the streets, at least she wouldn’t have to be sober. An entire year here spent drunk, she thought, bitterly. And to think I came here to change.
“You want me to leave,” she said, more of a statement than a question. She took another deep sip of the bitter drink.
“Slow down” he said, a bit disgustingly. “You’ll be drunk.”
“What do you care? You hate me now. I know that,” she let loose with a sob.
He let her cry. He folded his napkin, half in his lap, half on the table. He placed the fork on the right side and the knife on the left. Two men walked by, arm in arm, with curious looks toward them.
The only sounds now were her crying, and an Imam calling out the afternoon prayer. It must be four thirty already. On a different day, on any other day, the girl would have made a point to listen, smiling at her own bravery in coming here, to a land so far away and foreign. Nothing could have been more foreign than the calling of the Imam to prayer. She delighted in the way they called to each other from the mosque tower; a beautiful strange song, like a dance, one and then the other.
Time passed, without either one talking. The girl pulled off her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes. The Turk ordered more rakı.
The waiter came back with clean glasses and a new pitcher of cold water. He gave the girl a look of reproach. It was much too early for a woman to drink. He wondered why the man allowed it. He took the old glasses from the table in a huff and went back inside, to watch them through the window.
I hate it here, the girl thought. I hate him, she realized. I hate how he looks at me, like I’m a cavatina he has to conquer. I can have no voice as long as I am with him. But as soon as she had the thought, she buried it deep inside. She wouldn’t look at it again for another year. When she did, it would be long after they were married, and well on their way to divorce.
As for right now, she had no right to anger. She was guilty. She was everything he’d said, and more.
“What do you want from me?” She asked, quiet now; her eyes swollen red.
“I want you to choose; me or him. Or them! Who knows, with you.”
She winced in pain. His words rung true in deep corners of her she didn’t want to face. She felt her gut slip out of her stomach and down her legs into a puddle at her feet. He had arranged everything so perfectly, she thought, dazed. She had no choice. Her hold on whom she wanted to be and the entire purpose of her traveling 8,000 miles was lost in a second.
The next words were easy to say. She just had to do what she’d always done. Compromise everything for nothing.
“I choose you, “she whispered.
“What?” A smile played on his lips. Dear God, she thought. He’d heard her. Yet she’d have to say it again. Deep shame washed over her in waves.
“I choose you, is that what you want?” she called out in pain. “I choose you, god damnit. I choose you.”
“Good.” He took a sip of his rakı.
Resume
Jennifer S. Tem
1816 Valence St.
New Orleans, LA 70115
985 856 4801
PROFESSIONAL PROFILE
Motivated worker seeks position with potential for advancement. Excellent customer relation and team building skills. Natural leader with ability to motivate others and provide superb service.
EDUCATION
University of New Orleans, New Orleans, LA
Candidate for B.S. degree in Psychology
· Focus: Clinical Psychology; English
· Expected graduation date: May 2012
WORK EXPERIENCE
Food Server
· Houston’s - St Charles, New Orleans, LA. 8/09-1/11
· Semolina’s Bistro Italia – Magazine St., New Orleans, LA. 4/07-8/09
· Sailor’s Seafood and Oyster Bar – Carrollton, New Orleans, LA. 3/06-4/07
Teacher/Tutor
· Ankrara Jadesi – Ankara, Turkey. 02/03- 03/06
· Nicholls State University – Thibodaux, LA. 12/ 01- 02/03
SKILLS
· Provided excellent patron experiences through phenomenal customer service.
· Consistently exceed sales goals by effectively managing sections and multi-tasking.
· Exceptional demonstration of empathetic and caring service.
· Thorough knowledge of systems and procedures.
· Ability to teach large and small classrooms with students of all ages.
· Years of one on one tutoring with children and adults.
Hide.
Jennifer Tem
The Sisters pg 1
I roll off of the comforter, struggling for air. Water, I need water. Everything is blurry and for a moment I think I’ve lost the ability to focus. When my eyes do decide to work, nerves and synapses quickly follow and I’m caught in a depression so outstanding that it cripples me and I fall to the floor. I’m in my parent’s house. Mom’s house. I’m 29. I’m in my parent’s house. I’m in their living room. It’s ok, I tell myself, it’s ok. It’s fine, you are fine.
- Marion- my brain screams. I find myself staring at a picture of my sister and I that adorns the beige and brown wall. Marion. Where is she? I ask myself.
Sunday, July in the park. It’s hot and sunny and I need water. My cousin is there, and my aunt, and my mother. My sisters and I pose for the picture. Marion on my left with her daughter in her lap and my youngest sister, Christine, next to her with her daughter in her lap. I cradle a coke in my hands.
Christine, never next to me, always next to Marion. She’s not even in the picture on the wall. Our lives are so divided from each other, just because…oh! Because I did what I did…I left when she was pregnant. I came back and she was someone else, a mother, a wife; and we couldn’t laugh like we used to. We used to laugh secret laughs, same humor, endless laughs. I did what I did because I couldn’t love her..…I couldn’t forgive Christine for getting pregnant at 17.
We were in the same downward spiral. Only Marion survived it; perhaps because she spent more time with him. Perhaps because she was the one who was there when he fell to the ground, the one who called 911, the one with him in his final moments. Christine and I were 10 miles away, and she was only 15..only 15! I packed my 15 year old sister in my car and drove like a maniac to the hospital…all the while assuring her that it was going to be ok, that he’s ok. “He’ll be ok, right?” she asked me, over and over. “Yes, yes” I assured her, fighting back tears of my own. “He’ll be ok.”
When we got there the lady at the entrance asked our name and when I told her she said they had a “special room” set up for us. I have never in my life felt such panic and despair. He’s dead. I thought, tears falling. SPECIAL ROOM, the words still cause my heart to skip beats. They were there already, Marion and my mom, like some kind of conspiracy. I wanted to scream at Marion…”WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL US FIRST???” But that would come later, in the full blown anger stage of grief. For now I just collapsed on the seat and a divide was created that night that would separate all of us into our own individual hells and last for many years.
Christine lived hers by getting raped and later having a baby from a convict who was almost twice her age. The little girl who was my sister was gone. I wanted to kill him, the man. My mother asked me to, and I almost had him killed. I wanted to kill myself too, because I introduced her to him one day when she visited the drug house I was occupying. I was a shit role model because my own hell was so encompassing. I drank every night, all night. I got kicked out of bars, got in fights, had sex with men I didn’t even like. My best friend told me he didn’t know me anymore and left me on the floor of a bar. My hell was real and I couldn’t help her with hers. She still had the horse they rode together, her and Dad. She wouldn’t even go to see it. I couldn’t understand.
I acquired a ticket to go to Turkey while she was pregnant. I remember the night before I left. She begged me not to go. “I’m pregnant Jen” she said, tears in her eyes. “You won’t be here for the birth.” “I’ll be back in two weeks” I said. We both knew I was lying. Two weeks wouldn’t cure my suffering. Two weeks turned into two years and even Marion was angry when I returned. She didn’t talk to me for months. They didn’t ask any questions. Why would they? I deserted them.
I sobbed into my parent’s wooden floor, hands over my eyes. Christine, I’ll call her. I’ll tell her I’m sorry, I’ll tell her I love her. I stumble for my purse, for my phone. I go through the conversation in
my head and it’s not the wife, the mother I’m talking to, but that 15 year old girl who needed her oldest sister to tell her everything was all right. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t all right and he died and I lied to her. Five minutes before Mom called us with the news that dad was in the hospital Christine and I were laughing so hard at Trogdor. It would be the last time I ever heard her laugh like that. I closed the phone. I couldn’t make the call. Too much time had passed and nothing had changed for any of us, we just became better at hiding.
Heart in a cage
Hell without Maddy
*“Well I don't feel better
When I'm fucking around
And I don't write better
When I'm stuck in the ground
So don't teach me a lesson
Cause I've already learned”
When I'm fucking around
And I don't write better
When I'm stuck in the ground
So don't teach me a lesson
Cause I've already learned”
“Oh the heart beats in its cage”
12:15AM. Restless. Cigarettes, Shoes, Wallet. Hoodie. Leave house on a school night.
12:45AM. Aunt Tikis. I play the Breeders on the Jukebox. An Old Jew tells me about his experiences with Hunter S. Thompson. Tells me he had the power to kill people because he’s a bookie and tells me that he was the lawyer in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. The real one. Lights my cigarette. Tell me about you he says.
“I want to be a relationship therapist.”
“My first wife left me for her therapist.” Grunts.
“I write with Dr. John. I write poetry with him. I’m an old Jew. I got beat when I was 12. They took me from my family. They took all of us. Didn’t you ever hear about that? On the bayou.”
“No.”
“They took us all…in waves. Took us right from our parents and sent us to New Orleans. I got beat with a whip. I ran away. This man stopped and saw the blood on my back and took me home. I stayed with him and his wife. He was a hard Jew, but he told me that if I was hard too, I would succeed. And he was right. I’m a millionaire.”
I puff on my cigarette and drink my Paps.
“I never told anyone that before, about the beatings. I never told my wife.”
“Why not?”
“I was ashamed.”
“What of? You were just a kid.”
“I know that now…it took a long time though. I thought it was my fault.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Tell me about you.”
…….…………………………..”Oh the heart beats in its cage”………………………………………………………
“I don't want what you want
I don't feel what you feel
See I'm stuck in a city
But I belong in a field”
“I don't want what you want
I don't feel what you feel
See I'm stuck in a city
But I belong in a field”
“I don’t have a bike” I whisper.
The old Jew makes a face.
1:20AM. I drink a Paps. I write a text
- I’m out, I write. Meet up for a drink?
-Sure hon. Just getting off of work. Be there in a bit.
“I’m sorry. “ I apologize. “I hate it when people are on their phones all night when I’m out with them.”
“No problem,” he says, “You were just on it for a minute”
“Yeah but see, I have all these friends who are 22 and 23, and they are on their phones all fucking night, and it drives me insane. It’s so rude. Like am I that awful to hang out with that you spend the whole night talking to someone else?”
He buys me a Paps.
“I have a boyfriend. He hates it here.”
Bartender pops in: “Your boyfriend hates you?”
I shiver. “No, he hates it HERE” I annunciate. “Why would he hate me?” I look at him.
“I don’t know, that’s why I asked! It sounded weird.” He hands me another Paps.
“Well why don’t you move wherever he is?” The old Jew asks.
“I hate it there.”
“Well how you gonna make that work?”
“Separate houses?” I laugh. “I don’t know.”
“I cook for people by the river” he says. “Lamb, goat, salad, natural stuff. Come”
1:45 AM. Red hair, invisible lashes. Tall, thin. I wave. My friend. He sits down on the stool next to me.
“This guy knows Hunter S. Thompson.” I say to him as a greeting. It’s our first meeting “alone”.
My friend looks skeptical.
His hands are rough and his fingernails are dirty. It doesn’t bother me though because I know he builds things, and Jesus made that sexy for all of time.
2:30 am. A round of drinks from the Old Jew. Friend is in the bathroom.
“There you go,” he says, “already on your way to getting rid of that boyfriend problem.” He tells me.
“You’re a cougar” he tells me. “He’s younger than you.”
I look sideways at him. “You think so?” I ask. “Yep” The Old Jew nods.
My friend is back. He’s not younger than me, is he? I shake my head.
“You played this?” My friend asks, his eyelashes invisible.
He leans in and kisses me
“All our friends, they're laughing at us
All of those you loved you mistrust
Help me I'm just not quite myself”
All of those you loved you mistrust
Help me I'm just not quite myself”
“Yes” I whisper.
“I don’t want what you want,
I don’t feel what you feel..”
He smiles at me.
“Just yesterday I promised myself I’d change” I say passionately, hitting the bar. “I promised no more, I’d change, I’d be stable, I’d settle down, I’d start a family, I’d have a baby, I’d get my degree, I’d open a business, I’d be home at 6, I’d plan dinners with my family, I’d watch tv with my husband, I’d see my friends every once and awhile, I’d quit drinking, I’d quit smoking, I’d be better, I’d be good. I’d be a good, stable person!” I stare into his eyes; can’t he leave me alone? Can’t he understand me!
He smiles at me.
I’d never said a word.
“Look around there's no one else left.”
“Oh the heart beats in its cage.”
“It’s a good song” he says, kissing me again. “Want to get out of here?”
I’m silent for probably five minutes. At least I have that.
He has invisible eyelashes. I tug at them and take his hand. He doesn’t live that far.
“I went to the concert and I fought through the crowd
And yes I got too excited when I thought you were around,
I get left, left, left, left, left, left, left…
OH the heart beats in its cage…”
*”Heart Beats In Its Cage” by The Strokes.
Handwritten
Handwritten
I'm not that girl anymore
The one who trusts unconditionally,
who loves unrealistically
who believes in magic.
The beauty of handwritten letters
is not lost on me.
You even chose pencil
pen would be too harsh
pen would damage the paper
bleed onto your words
and you know that I'd notice.
I'm old now though
I'm old.
I'm ancient.
I'm filled with neither regret nor remorse
but something else
something smoother
medium weight and still
something made of old bones
that doesn't support wishes.
I wish I was that girl
so I could believe in you
So I could turn my face
when they look my way
and say, "that's not your life"
"that's not the life you want."
and I'd put my hands on my ears
and run away, to you.
Dance
Dance
Hot
Desire
I will sink
In your courtyard
Stand
Delicate
Holding my desire
Bleeding
Beside the fountain
I will
I will touch
Desire
With my tongue
Elongated
Into your left presence
I will
Want
To run
I will stay an hour
Or two
Until the silence
Becomes my answer.
Poems to be edited, why I want to be healthy.
Why I want to be healthy
By Theron Jackson
When I was born I came out second being a twin and all, my twin brother was nine pounds and three ounces. And I was six pounds and nothing, my mother had concerns, but her doctor told her not to worry. Because I was going to fill out, all that loose skin, and as time went to pass. My mother found that he was right. Growing up as the fat kid in my life, I always wanted to know how it would feel to be a little lighter in weight. I mean it gets kinda old being called Fat Albert by your first girlfriend in kindergarten. And to keep telling her your name is Theron, only to realize that Fat Albert was a really obese cartoon figment of “Bill Cosby‘s” imagination. Anyway as I grew up I had frequent visits to the doctor and most of my problems were because of my weight. I’m the only one in my family, whose not marry or have kids. Now that doesn’t have anything to do with my weight. I just have trusting issues. But I do want to have kids one day, or one kid some day. Unless their twins then two kids. And I know, if I don’t take better care of myself and live a healthy life style, I won‘t be around to see that happen. It’s hard for me to do things, that most people can without trying. I’ve had kidney problems and I’m a borderline a diabetic. My bones hurt from the weight of my own body, and because of the kidney problems. I’ve had loss of appetite so finding a solution for diets and not being able to eat certain foods. Well it gets a little aggravating to live life and that’s not fair, especially if I can change it. So Having this procedure done is an easy part. Maintaining my progress to continue on the healthy path it’s a journey I’m eager to take. I’ve had many second chances in my life and blew most of them. My father ask me once so when does a man begin to grow. I guess when he realize that life and love is something far to
By Theron Jackson
When I was born I came out second being a twin and all, my twin brother was nine pounds and three ounces. And I was six pounds and nothing, my mother had concerns, but her doctor told her not to worry. Because I was going to fill out, all that loose skin, and as time went to pass. My mother found that he was right. Growing up as the fat kid in my life, I always wanted to know how it would feel to be a little lighter in weight. I mean it gets kinda old being called Fat Albert by your first girlfriend in kindergarten. And to keep telling her your name is Theron, only to realize that Fat Albert was a really obese cartoon figment of “Bill Cosby‘s” imagination. Anyway as I grew up I had frequent visits to the doctor and most of my problems were because of my weight. I’m the only one in my family, whose not marry or have kids. Now that doesn’t have anything to do with my weight. I just have trusting issues. But I do want to have kids one day, or one kid some day. Unless their twins then two kids. And I know, if I don’t take better care of myself and live a healthy life style, I won‘t be around to see that happen. It’s hard for me to do things, that most people can without trying. I’ve had kidney problems and I’m a borderline a diabetic. My bones hurt from the weight of my own body, and because of the kidney problems. I’ve had loss of appetite so finding a solution for diets and not being able to eat certain foods. Well it gets a little aggravating to live life and that’s not fair, especially if I can change it. So Having this procedure done is an easy part. Maintaining my progress to continue on the healthy path it’s a journey I’m eager to take. I’ve had many second chances in my life and blew most of them. My father ask me once so when does a man begin to grow. I guess when he realize that life and love is something far to
List of poems:
Ok here's a list of poems that need to be looked over love u.
Killers of kind
tornado flood
she said a dying girl
pretty skeletons in the dark
the lizard is crazy
inside my dreams of sunshine
as i witness the window breaks
acrylic star dust
black rose
canary ocean gleam
day break in the meadow
disillusion lullaby
kill myself
lazy dandelions
Killers of kind
tornado flood
she said a dying girl
pretty skeletons in the dark
the lizard is crazy
inside my dreams of sunshine
as i witness the window breaks
acrylic star dust
black rose
canary ocean gleam
day break in the meadow
disillusion lullaby
kill myself
lazy dandelions
theron's poems 3
Perils
By Theron Jackson
Somebody’s dead, I believe I’m lost in a waiting room deep inside my head. How a mind can be so consumed. We wait to die, from the perils of our own doom. She says so sweet, you have to talk about it, put your burden on me. As time slips away, I’m stuck here, I’ve become the killers prey. So where are my angels when I bleed? Why am I so afraid to let myself succeed. Maybe if I continue to pray, my demons will fade away. Even though my dreams are lovely but cruel. My heart can’t take this. I need to separate. I need to conquer fear. I need to find love. I need to shed some tears. Because somebody’s dead, and their crying in a waiting room. With memories of me in their head.
By Theron Jackson
Somebody’s dead, I believe I’m lost in a waiting room deep inside my head. How a mind can be so consumed. We wait to die, from the perils of our own doom. She says so sweet, you have to talk about it, put your burden on me. As time slips away, I’m stuck here, I’ve become the killers prey. So where are my angels when I bleed? Why am I so afraid to let myself succeed. Maybe if I continue to pray, my demons will fade away. Even though my dreams are lovely but cruel. My heart can’t take this. I need to separate. I need to conquer fear. I need to find love. I need to shed some tears. Because somebody’s dead, and their crying in a waiting room. With memories of me in their head.
Prelude to a Dying Girl
By: Theron Jackson
Doesn’t the moonlight love to cry in the sunshine?
No one listens, but I do
How funny - they believe
She’s not alive if her smile isn’t pretty
I left the killer in my home, sleeping in my bed
These visions become incorrect
Lost stories that I’ll soon become
Please don’t run, her blood is not fake
“Will she die peacefully?”
A wish for happiness; what’s really just one more mistake
I am not trying to forget myself
It’s just hard to accept this story
For it quickly comes to an end
My life is simply undecided
Could it be that I am lost
Deep within a forest
Sinking in quicksand, and
Gasping for air?
Now frankly, I know what my problem is
It appears to me that no one cares
And maybe they don’t, and so why should I?
‘Cause it hurts to think of more tears in her eyes
Just another tornado waiting for me to succeed
When, someday, I am truly happy
When, someday, I find my life is complete
It shall finally come and grab hold of me
Shred up my ambition; joyfully watch me bleed
Do I believe she is out there?
Well she won’t go away, but
I hope she will eventually show her face
So that I can touch it; break away her pain
(Her degrees of hurt no one should embrace)
Would I bear the prelude to a dying girl?
Only if I could kiss her and resurrect her into my world
We shared hugs and kisses
Her black hair and green eyes
We just couldn’t keep away
With no reason for goodbye
And now she calls me
As the waves come crashing in
Tainted in her rebirth
I’ll soon die again
By: Theron Jackson
Doesn’t the moonlight love to cry in the sunshine?
No one listens, but I do
How funny - they believe
She’s not alive if her smile isn’t pretty
I left the killer in my home, sleeping in my bed
These visions become incorrect
Lost stories that I’ll soon become
Please don’t run, her blood is not fake
“Will she die peacefully?”
A wish for happiness; what’s really just one more mistake
I am not trying to forget myself
It’s just hard to accept this story
For it quickly comes to an end
My life is simply undecided
Could it be that I am lost
Deep within a forest
Sinking in quicksand, and
Gasping for air?
Now frankly, I know what my problem is
It appears to me that no one cares
And maybe they don’t, and so why should I?
‘Cause it hurts to think of more tears in her eyes
Just another tornado waiting for me to succeed
When, someday, I am truly happy
When, someday, I find my life is complete
It shall finally come and grab hold of me
Shred up my ambition; joyfully watch me bleed
Do I believe she is out there?
Well she won’t go away, but
I hope she will eventually show her face
So that I can touch it; break away her pain
(Her degrees of hurt no one should embrace)
Would I bear the prelude to a dying girl?
Only if I could kiss her and resurrect her into my world
We shared hugs and kisses
Her black hair and green eyes
We just couldn’t keep away
With no reason for goodbye
And now she calls me
As the waves come crashing in
Tainted in her rebirth
I’ll soon die again
Where love fades away
By Theron Jackson
Only fools they die without knowing. Just a man I cry without showing. When the killers come blood starts flowing.
To the unknown, until were all gone, and love fades away.
I thought this fear was just in my mind.
It’s so hard to comprehend the reason my heart couldn’t intertwine with the one smile that been erased.
I wake up, I go to sleep, I’m still alone. When you wake up is it true your heart is gone?
Maybe I’m the fool, maybe I don’t understand, are my dreams just lies or was it true, I was holding your hand?
What meaning is the blue sky, if all my eyes ever see are tears. Because I feel only fools, they die without knowing.
I’m just a man and I cry without showing. And when killers come the blood will start flowing to the unknown.
Until were all gone
And love fades
Away.
By Theron Jackson
Only fools they die without knowing. Just a man I cry without showing. When the killers come blood starts flowing.
To the unknown, until were all gone, and love fades away.
I thought this fear was just in my mind.
It’s so hard to comprehend the reason my heart couldn’t intertwine with the one smile that been erased.
I wake up, I go to sleep, I’m still alone. When you wake up is it true your heart is gone?
Maybe I’m the fool, maybe I don’t understand, are my dreams just lies or was it true, I was holding your hand?
What meaning is the blue sky, if all my eyes ever see are tears. Because I feel only fools, they die without knowing.
I’m just a man and I cry without showing. And when killers come the blood will start flowing to the unknown.
Until were all gone
And love fades
Away.
Wherever the rainbow goes
By: Theron Jackson
Wherever the rainbow goes she says they follow, this lesson was learned on my own what is it that’s calling me? A disillusion to many gentle seasons of my rebirth. Careless like my bubble intergraded through my demise, this killer wiping blood off a heated gun. It’s five o’clock a.m. I’m bleeding, this world has me stress, the argument was uncalled for but she pushed it. Stop begging me to do this none of us were capable to deviate songs from hell’s lullaby. I’ve chosen the lesser painful thoughts unruly destructions I’ll call her a bitch. That unpredictable word, “flat liners” ugly girls sniffing on white lines to improve there figure, for to fat for the mirror. It kills to be jaded, way to many lessons to learn to fast. I’m a mess all those tears making the sun feel like it doesn’t belong. None of this has to be factor, the sad stories concluded while being murdered by demons. The dreams of heaven, angels making love under the willow tree, the smoke is getting in my eyes, far to unstable to be incomplete. Listen to the whispers chant the words I love you, god knows how much I do. Does it ever get any better I thought it would, but pain seems to be my only true friend, maybe that’s how it is for everybody? Oh how I remember as if it was yesterday, she ran away from me, I shouldn’t have said what I did. Words can cut like a knife, she said with tears running down her face. You don’t know me, so don’t judge me, you haven’t lived my life, your not god so stop trying to be! She was right I was trying to be something that I wasn’t; she went home, to the old house built next to the willow tree the one she always dreamed about. For days to come I constantly pondered what it would be like to see her face again, I wish I could see her just one more time. So funny I allowed myself to be trapped inside my own imagination and she was just trying to break me free. Where can I find happiness again pretty smiles don’t grow on trees, to many killers cover in dead leaves my conclusion sing’s songs from out of the gray.
By: Theron Jackson
Wherever the rainbow goes she says they follow, this lesson was learned on my own what is it that’s calling me? A disillusion to many gentle seasons of my rebirth. Careless like my bubble intergraded through my demise, this killer wiping blood off a heated gun. It’s five o’clock a.m. I’m bleeding, this world has me stress, the argument was uncalled for but she pushed it. Stop begging me to do this none of us were capable to deviate songs from hell’s lullaby. I’ve chosen the lesser painful thoughts unruly destructions I’ll call her a bitch. That unpredictable word, “flat liners” ugly girls sniffing on white lines to improve there figure, for to fat for the mirror. It kills to be jaded, way to many lessons to learn to fast. I’m a mess all those tears making the sun feel like it doesn’t belong. None of this has to be factor, the sad stories concluded while being murdered by demons. The dreams of heaven, angels making love under the willow tree, the smoke is getting in my eyes, far to unstable to be incomplete. Listen to the whispers chant the words I love you, god knows how much I do. Does it ever get any better I thought it would, but pain seems to be my only true friend, maybe that’s how it is for everybody? Oh how I remember as if it was yesterday, she ran away from me, I shouldn’t have said what I did. Words can cut like a knife, she said with tears running down her face. You don’t know me, so don’t judge me, you haven’t lived my life, your not god so stop trying to be! She was right I was trying to be something that I wasn’t; she went home, to the old house built next to the willow tree the one she always dreamed about. For days to come I constantly pondered what it would be like to see her face again, I wish I could see her just one more time. So funny I allowed myself to be trapped inside my own imagination and she was just trying to break me free. Where can I find happiness again pretty smiles don’t grow on trees, to many killers cover in dead leaves my conclusion sing’s songs from out of the gray.
Jen Soignier January 31 at 6:33pm
Theron Jackson January 31 at 6:23pm Report
Wherever the rainbow goes
By: Theron Jackson
It’s five o’clock a.m. I’m bleeding, this world has me stressed, the argument was uncalled for but she pushed it. Stop begging me to do this none of us were capable to deviate songs from hell’s lullaby. I’ve chosen the less painful thoughts unruly destructions I’ll call her a bitch. That unpredictable word, “flat liners” ugly girls sniffing on white lines to improve their figure, far too fat for the mirror. It kills to be jaded, way too many lessons to learn too fast. I’m a mess all those tears making the sun feel like it doesn’t belong. None of this has to be a factor, the sad stories concluded while being murdered by demons. The dreams of heaven, angels making love under the willow tree, the smoke is getting in my eyes, far too unstable to be incomplete. Listen to the whispers chant the words I love you, god knows how much I do. Does it ever get any better I thought it would, but pain seems to be my only true friend, maybe that’s how it is for everybody? Oh how I remember as if it was yesterday, she ran away from me, I shouldn’t have said what I did. Words can cut like a knife, she said with tears running down her face. You don’t know me, so don’t judge me, you haven’t lived my life, you’re not god so stop trying to be! She was right I was trying to be something that I wasn’t; she went home, to the house next to the willow tree, the one she always dreamed about. For days to come I constantly pondered what it would be like to see her face again; I wish I could see her just one more time. So funny I allowed myself to be trapped inside my own imagination and she was just trying to break me free. Where can I find happiness again pretty smiles don’t grow on trees, too many killers covered in dead leaves my conclusion sings songs from out of the gray.
Wherever the rainbow goes
By: Theron Jackson
It’s five o’clock a.m. I’m bleeding, this world has me stressed, the argument was uncalled for but she pushed it. Stop begging me to do this none of us were capable to deviate songs from hell’s lullaby. I’ve chosen the less painful thoughts unruly destructions I’ll call her a bitch. That unpredictable word, “flat liners” ugly girls sniffing on white lines to improve their figure, far too fat for the mirror. It kills to be jaded, way too many lessons to learn too fast. I’m a mess all those tears making the sun feel like it doesn’t belong. None of this has to be a factor, the sad stories concluded while being murdered by demons. The dreams of heaven, angels making love under the willow tree, the smoke is getting in my eyes, far too unstable to be incomplete. Listen to the whispers chant the words I love you, god knows how much I do. Does it ever get any better I thought it would, but pain seems to be my only true friend, maybe that’s how it is for everybody? Oh how I remember as if it was yesterday, she ran away from me, I shouldn’t have said what I did. Words can cut like a knife, she said with tears running down her face. You don’t know me, so don’t judge me, you haven’t lived my life, you’re not god so stop trying to be! She was right I was trying to be something that I wasn’t; she went home, to the house next to the willow tree, the one she always dreamed about. For days to come I constantly pondered what it would be like to see her face again; I wish I could see her just one more time. So funny I allowed myself to be trapped inside my own imagination and she was just trying to break me free. Where can I find happiness again pretty smiles don’t grow on trees, too many killers covered in dead leaves my conclusion sings songs from out of the gray.
Wherever the rainbow goes
By: Theron Jackson
Wherever the rainbow goes she says they follow, this lesson was learned on my own what is it that’s calling me? A disillusion to many gentle seasons of my rebirth. Careless like my bubble intergraded through my demise, this killer wiping blood off a heated gun. It’s five o’clock a.m. I’m bleeding, this world has me stress, the argument was uncalled for but she pushed it. Stop begging me to do this none of us were capable to deviate songs from hell’s lullaby. I’ve chosen the lesser painful thoughts unruly destructions I’ll call her a bitch. That unpredictable word, “flat liners” ugly girls sniffing on white lines to improve there figure, for to fat for the mirror. It kills to be jaded, way to many lessons to learn to fast. I’m a mess all those tears making the sun feel like it doesn’t belong. None of this has to be factor, the sad stories concluded while being murdered by demons. The dreams of heaven, angels making love under the willow tree, the smoke is getting in my eyes, far to unstable to be incomplete. Listen to the whispers chant the words I love you, god knows how much I do. Does it ever get any better I thought it would, but pain seems to be my only true friend, maybe that’s how it is for everybody? Oh how I remember as if it was yesterday, she ran away from me, I shouldn’t have said what I did. Words can cut like a knife, she said with tears running down her face. You don’t know me, so don’t judge me, you haven’t lived my life, your not god so stop trying to be! She was right I was trying to be something that I wasn’t; she went home, to the old house built next to the willow tree the one she always dreamed about. For days to come I constantly pondered what it would be like to see her face again, I wish I could see her just one more time. So funny I allowed myself to be trapped inside my own imagination and she was just trying to break me free. Where can I find happiness again pretty smiles don’t grow on trees, to many killers cover in dead leaves my conclusion sing’s songs from out of the gray.
By: Theron Jackson
Wherever the rainbow goes she says they follow, this lesson was learned on my own what is it that’s calling me? A disillusion to many gentle seasons of my rebirth. Careless like my bubble intergraded through my demise, this killer wiping blood off a heated gun. It’s five o’clock a.m. I’m bleeding, this world has me stress, the argument was uncalled for but she pushed it. Stop begging me to do this none of us were capable to deviate songs from hell’s lullaby. I’ve chosen the lesser painful thoughts unruly destructions I’ll call her a bitch. That unpredictable word, “flat liners” ugly girls sniffing on white lines to improve there figure, for to fat for the mirror. It kills to be jaded, way to many lessons to learn to fast. I’m a mess all those tears making the sun feel like it doesn’t belong. None of this has to be factor, the sad stories concluded while being murdered by demons. The dreams of heaven, angels making love under the willow tree, the smoke is getting in my eyes, far to unstable to be incomplete. Listen to the whispers chant the words I love you, god knows how much I do. Does it ever get any better I thought it would, but pain seems to be my only true friend, maybe that’s how it is for everybody? Oh how I remember as if it was yesterday, she ran away from me, I shouldn’t have said what I did. Words can cut like a knife, she said with tears running down her face. You don’t know me, so don’t judge me, you haven’t lived my life, your not god so stop trying to be! She was right I was trying to be something that I wasn’t; she went home, to the old house built next to the willow tree the one she always dreamed about. For days to come I constantly pondered what it would be like to see her face again, I wish I could see her just one more time. So funny I allowed myself to be trapped inside my own imagination and she was just trying to break me free. Where can I find happiness again pretty smiles don’t grow on trees, to many killers cover in dead leaves my conclusion sing’s songs from out of the gray.
Theron's poems 2.
A Dead Girl with a Knife
By: Theron Jackson
I heard the lies as they destroyed my mind.
Why is it falling down on me like stars of devastation?
You think this is okay,
I think she’s crazy.
There’s nothing I can do anymore to help her.
If you could, would you?
I would if I could, but I can’t.
I’m waiting for a demon to die beneath my car.
Why is it like this?
She screamed and woke every one in the house.
Why is it like me?
I haven’t figured out what killers ever think twice.
There’s so much to find,
As she’ll write these lines of purple interlude.
I was a fool.
Why couldn’t I see I was a killer?
The same killer fucking my enemy?
Just one more time, I’ll see you waving out the window,
That smile on your face I will cherish forever.
It’s like bleeding rain drops falling through my vision.
It’s like careless mistakes I’ll take to my grave.
Fuck you! She said.
Fuck you, I’m going to the rave.
I can’t help her, she’s gone too far.
I can’t help her; she’s the girl burning on the roof of a car.
I packed my bags to leave for the ocean,
Hoping I’ll find the answers there, but I’m not confined to this,
I’m not confined anywhere.
I’m sorry dear lovely, but tomorrow I must go.
But what she said had indications only decaying words could only show.
That night, I understood what she meant to happen in her life,
But as I went to tell her all I found was a dead girl with a knife.
By: Theron Jackson
I heard the lies as they destroyed my mind.
Why is it falling down on me like stars of devastation?
You think this is okay,
I think she’s crazy.
There’s nothing I can do anymore to help her.
If you could, would you?
I would if I could, but I can’t.
I’m waiting for a demon to die beneath my car.
Why is it like this?
She screamed and woke every one in the house.
Why is it like me?
I haven’t figured out what killers ever think twice.
There’s so much to find,
As she’ll write these lines of purple interlude.
I was a fool.
Why couldn’t I see I was a killer?
The same killer fucking my enemy?
Just one more time, I’ll see you waving out the window,
That smile on your face I will cherish forever.
It’s like bleeding rain drops falling through my vision.
It’s like careless mistakes I’ll take to my grave.
Fuck you! She said.
Fuck you, I’m going to the rave.
I can’t help her, she’s gone too far.
I can’t help her; she’s the girl burning on the roof of a car.
I packed my bags to leave for the ocean,
Hoping I’ll find the answers there, but I’m not confined to this,
I’m not confined anywhere.
I’m sorry dear lovely, but tomorrow I must go.
But what she said had indications only decaying words could only show.
That night, I understood what she meant to happen in her life,
But as I went to tell her all I found was a dead girl with a knife.
A Life in Suicide
By: Theron Jackson
In my day suicide was a fad,
It was a new drug no man would ever live to talk about,
Did it make you happy?
Was your mind lovely?
Were your feelings heart felt and sincere?
One more beautiful creature slaughtered in such an awesome year,
Dear Ginger, how I want you to know life is funny,
Life has a grinning face it’ll never show.
Gun in my hand, gun to my head,
Gun on the carpet, bloodstains cover my bed.
I’m sorry mother; I’m sorry father.
I couldn’t take it.
There’s so much I fear and it’s hard for me.
I’m drowning in my tears.
Please don’t be upset, there was nothing you could do.
I was a sullen child in love with melancholy skies we shades of dying blue.
Yes, I did pray.
Yes, I wanted more.
Yes, I needed shelter,
But I lost myself in this nightmare like I did once before.
Just a feather floating in the wind,
Crying over a lost bridge wishing for life to soon end.
Tomorrow was so far away, forever was too long to stay,
Depression has written me in a book of giving up,
I tried to drink an ocean in such a mangled cup.
Don’t be sad, none of this was because of you.
I was a lost cause and everyone knew it was true.
I’m shattered. I’m hurt.
I’m something weird hating crazy thoughts crowding my day.
There is nothing left here; the wind has forgotten to blow this way.
I had this dream once I was running, not watching in front me,
And I ran into a tree.
I knocked myself unconscious, and then I woke up flying in the air,
I felt so free.
The birds were happy to see I was sharing their sky.
The clouds were beautiful.
The angels waved and cried.
Their tears became rain; the rain became hurt.
I wish I could fight it.
Sweet mother, dear father,
Why are you laying me down beneath the dirt?
I’m sorry.
By: Theron Jackson
In my day suicide was a fad,
It was a new drug no man would ever live to talk about,
Did it make you happy?
Was your mind lovely?
Were your feelings heart felt and sincere?
One more beautiful creature slaughtered in such an awesome year,
Dear Ginger, how I want you to know life is funny,
Life has a grinning face it’ll never show.
Gun in my hand, gun to my head,
Gun on the carpet, bloodstains cover my bed.
I’m sorry mother; I’m sorry father.
I couldn’t take it.
There’s so much I fear and it’s hard for me.
I’m drowning in my tears.
Please don’t be upset, there was nothing you could do.
I was a sullen child in love with melancholy skies we shades of dying blue.
Yes, I did pray.
Yes, I wanted more.
Yes, I needed shelter,
But I lost myself in this nightmare like I did once before.
Just a feather floating in the wind,
Crying over a lost bridge wishing for life to soon end.
Tomorrow was so far away, forever was too long to stay,
Depression has written me in a book of giving up,
I tried to drink an ocean in such a mangled cup.
Don’t be sad, none of this was because of you.
I was a lost cause and everyone knew it was true.
I’m shattered. I’m hurt.
I’m something weird hating crazy thoughts crowding my day.
There is nothing left here; the wind has forgotten to blow this way.
I had this dream once I was running, not watching in front me,
And I ran into a tree.
I knocked myself unconscious, and then I woke up flying in the air,
I felt so free.
The birds were happy to see I was sharing their sky.
The clouds were beautiful.
The angels waved and cried.
Their tears became rain; the rain became hurt.
I wish I could fight it.
Sweet mother, dear father,
Why are you laying me down beneath the dirt?
I’m sorry.
A Place of Peace
By: Theron Jackson
Even if the world’s deception begins to fall down upon me,
I’ll continue to laugh and watch the children play.
Even if love decided to run away,
I’ll remember how it used to be, and keep smiling.
That’s the way I want you to remember me.
We’re all just emotions trying to find our way out of the dark,
But it’s kind of hard to do that when there’s no light.
So please don’t depend on me to be somebody else.
I can’t live your life,
I can’t feel the way you felt,
But please forgive me for not being able to answer your questions,
For there were too many of them to understand.
I can’t be an army.
I’m just one man,
And as the demons remember the day the angels threw them down from out the sky,
I shall always love and wipe the tears from your eyes.
For I’m just a memory falling in love with you.
Die with me, angel,
For a sky once black has now become blue,
And while we watch the sunshine and the dragons give their praise.
We will wish, and we will hope
And try not to forget these days,
As we live for each other
As we never stop loving our sisters and brothers,
How we rush to kiss our mothers
And embrace the knowledge of our fathers’ lives.
We shall never die in the hearts of those who aren’t afraid to take your hand.
Walk with me, angel,
To the ordinary world,
A place of peace;
A place where I understand.
By: Theron Jackson
Even if the world’s deception begins to fall down upon me,
I’ll continue to laugh and watch the children play.
Even if love decided to run away,
I’ll remember how it used to be, and keep smiling.
That’s the way I want you to remember me.
We’re all just emotions trying to find our way out of the dark,
But it’s kind of hard to do that when there’s no light.
So please don’t depend on me to be somebody else.
I can’t live your life,
I can’t feel the way you felt,
But please forgive me for not being able to answer your questions,
For there were too many of them to understand.
I can’t be an army.
I’m just one man,
And as the demons remember the day the angels threw them down from out the sky,
I shall always love and wipe the tears from your eyes.
For I’m just a memory falling in love with you.
Die with me, angel,
For a sky once black has now become blue,
And while we watch the sunshine and the dragons give their praise.
We will wish, and we will hope
And try not to forget these days,
As we live for each other
As we never stop loving our sisters and brothers,
How we rush to kiss our mothers
And embrace the knowledge of our fathers’ lives.
We shall never die in the hearts of those who aren’t afraid to take your hand.
Walk with me, angel,
To the ordinary world,
A place of peace;
A place where I understand.
Acrylic Stardust
By: Theron Jackson
Decaying sunlight bleeds forsaken.
Every known killer rejoice for us.
Her hand reaching for mine.
Bloody black fire, she’s dying in lust.
Why don’t you kiss her?
I would but our lips shouldn’t touch.
Facilitate my feelings for a demon,
Flying on a falcon over my grave,
Dashing in her laughter.
Come into me and feel why sorrow beckons your name.
Night fall came too soon, for me.
An illusion feeding on fright.
This intelligent whore shines a scenery of lovers.
Mere lunatics breathing everlasting disgust.
Come see, dear mystery,
Maggots make fun of your grave.
Her voice on a laceration of devastation
Crashing into arteries in my heart.
I walked into the grave yard.
She dances.
Her limbs begin to fall off.
Her gray eyes looking into mine.
What is it you want me to know?
She smiles, and with her lips, she says,
Decaying sunlight bleeds forsaken.
Every known killer rejoice for us.
She dropped to her knees.
A demented smile forms on her face.
I watched her hand reaching for mine.
Bloody black fire, she’s dying in lust.
Why don’t you kiss her, the succubus muse.
I would, but our lips shouldn’t touch.
It’s careless to throw away a sweet dream in place of a nightmare,
But my dreams aren’t visions that should be kept.
You’re afraid to be alone.
I hate what I’m destined to be.
This acrylic stardust breeds my adversaries,
For everything I am has been mistaken.
By: Theron Jackson
Decaying sunlight bleeds forsaken.
Every known killer rejoice for us.
Her hand reaching for mine.
Bloody black fire, she’s dying in lust.
Why don’t you kiss her?
I would but our lips shouldn’t touch.
Facilitate my feelings for a demon,
Flying on a falcon over my grave,
Dashing in her laughter.
Come into me and feel why sorrow beckons your name.
Night fall came too soon, for me.
An illusion feeding on fright.
This intelligent whore shines a scenery of lovers.
Mere lunatics breathing everlasting disgust.
Come see, dear mystery,
Maggots make fun of your grave.
Her voice on a laceration of devastation
Crashing into arteries in my heart.
I walked into the grave yard.
She dances.
Her limbs begin to fall off.
Her gray eyes looking into mine.
What is it you want me to know?
She smiles, and with her lips, she says,
Decaying sunlight bleeds forsaken.
Every known killer rejoice for us.
She dropped to her knees.
A demented smile forms on her face.
I watched her hand reaching for mine.
Bloody black fire, she’s dying in lust.
Why don’t you kiss her, the succubus muse.
I would, but our lips shouldn’t touch.
It’s careless to throw away a sweet dream in place of a nightmare,
But my dreams aren’t visions that should be kept.
You’re afraid to be alone.
I hate what I’m destined to be.
This acrylic stardust breeds my adversaries,
For everything I am has been mistaken.
Jen Soignier January 31 at 5:33pm
The only changes I would make are grammatical:
"Every known killer rejoice for us" change to Every known killer rejoiceS for us." (add the s) and the same at
"the succubus muse" change "muse" to "muses."
"Every known killer rejoice for us" change to Every known killer rejoiceS for us." (add the s) and the same at
"the succubus muse" change "muse" to "muses."
An excuse to disown me
By: Theron Jackson
Fade in the fire, when we embrace a liar loving the truth
Is there love in this house?
Disappearing, nothing I can’t see.
Sweet elements in a jar caring for me.
I took a look in the sun yesterday,
How beautiful, I saw the reflection of my soul.
Mother, oh yes I miss you,
I need you to tell me the rest of the story, so much left unclear
There’s a river bleeding and a huge factor of fear,
Will I make it through?
A pen is a powerful weapon, my pen, I chose you.
So what, I messed up in the past,
Mistakes will happen and hurt seems to always last.
To watch an angel crying makes me weak;
I don’t deserve to live.
She wished and she wanted, then there was nothing left to give.
I hear her say, don’t fade in the fire.
Don’t believe in a beautiful liar.
For she hate’s the truth, and there’s nothing you desire
From an angel whose forgotten her name.
Don’t you run, don’t look back to leave me.
To leave me wondering about love anymore.
So why is this world a dream, a heart, a reason to kill my rabbit?
So shallow and it is I.
Feeding on a memory, every single thought of you.
And a moon, another star, and a killer,
Yeah, a killer.
Everything that we are.
By: Theron Jackson
Fade in the fire, when we embrace a liar loving the truth
Is there love in this house?
Disappearing, nothing I can’t see.
Sweet elements in a jar caring for me.
I took a look in the sun yesterday,
How beautiful, I saw the reflection of my soul.
Mother, oh yes I miss you,
I need you to tell me the rest of the story, so much left unclear
There’s a river bleeding and a huge factor of fear,
Will I make it through?
A pen is a powerful weapon, my pen, I chose you.
So what, I messed up in the past,
Mistakes will happen and hurt seems to always last.
To watch an angel crying makes me weak;
I don’t deserve to live.
She wished and she wanted, then there was nothing left to give.
I hear her say, don’t fade in the fire.
Don’t believe in a beautiful liar.
For she hate’s the truth, and there’s nothing you desire
From an angel whose forgotten her name.
Don’t you run, don’t look back to leave me.
To leave me wondering about love anymore.
So why is this world a dream, a heart, a reason to kill my rabbit?
So shallow and it is I.
Feeding on a memory, every single thought of you.
And a moon, another star, and a killer,
Yeah, a killer.
Everything that we are.
Jen Soignier January 31 at 5:30pm
I edited it a bit. Use what you like discard what you don't. ♥
An excuse to disown me
By: Theron Jackson
Fade in the fire, when I embrace the liar
I wonder :Is there love in this house?
Disappearing, nothing I can’t see.
Cold elements in a jar caring for me. (sweet and in a jar..doesn’t make sense.. something caring for you in a jar implies that it’s locked away, cold, unreachable. )
Nothing there for me.
Mother, oh yes I miss you,
I need you to tell me the rest of the story,
so much left unclear
There’s a river bleeding and a huge amount of fear,
Will I make it through?
So what, I messed up in the past,
Mistakes will happen and hurt always lasts.
I don’t deserve to live.
She wished and she wanted, then there was nothing left to give.
I hear her say, don’t fade in the fire.
Don’t believe in a beautiful liar.
For she hates the truth, and there’s nothing you desire
From an angel whose forgotten her name.
Don’t you run, don’t look back to leave me.
To leave me wondering about love anymore.
So why is this world a dream, a heart, a reason to kill?
So shallow and it is I.
Feeding on a memory, every single thought of you.
And a moon, another star, and a killer,
Yeah, a killer.
Everything that we are.
An excuse to disown me
By: Theron Jackson
Fade in the fire, when I embrace the liar
I wonder :Is there love in this house?
Disappearing, nothing I can’t see.
Cold elements in a jar caring for me. (sweet and in a jar..doesn’t make sense.. something caring for you in a jar implies that it’s locked away, cold, unreachable. )
Nothing there for me.
Mother, oh yes I miss you,
I need you to tell me the rest of the story,
so much left unclear
There’s a river bleeding and a huge amount of fear,
Will I make it through?
So what, I messed up in the past,
Mistakes will happen and hurt always lasts.
I don’t deserve to live.
She wished and she wanted, then there was nothing left to give.
I hear her say, don’t fade in the fire.
Don’t believe in a beautiful liar.
For she hates the truth, and there’s nothing you desire
From an angel whose forgotten her name.
Don’t you run, don’t look back to leave me.
To leave me wondering about love anymore.
So why is this world a dream, a heart, a reason to kill?
So shallow and it is I.
Feeding on a memory, every single thought of you.
And a moon, another star, and a killer,
Yeah, a killer.
Everything that we are.
Daddy’s Home
By: Theron Jackson
I watched my sister, age 16, leave home because of him.
She just packed her bags,
A move to grandma’s house.
“He’s crazy,” my mother yells on the phone to her friend,
The next door neighbor, Mrs. Kenley.
She’s always sticking her nose in everybody’s business.
At least that’s what my sister used to say.
Sunday, he listens to the baseball game on the radio.
“Hey woman, where’s my dinner?”
“It’s coming. I’m sorry it’s late honey.
I had to go to the store to pick up a few items.”
“These beans are hot! You trying to kill me woman?!
You trying to murder me bitch! Answer me damn it!”
“No,” she says in pure fear,
Backing away with tears down her face.
She knows what’s coming next.
He smacks her,
The white spit turning red to blood squirting from her mouth.
Mama falls once again to the floor,
He kicks her relentlessly
As if she was some soccer ball, begging to be played with.
“Stupid whore, I told you not to make me upset!
You know I hate hitting you, why do you do this to me?”
He kneels down.
He says he’s sorry, and he loves her and he’ll never do it again.
Monday, I come home from school;
The ambulance is taking Mama away.
He decided sense he got laid off, mama’s ribs was a good place
To take out his frustration.
The hospital bed,
Mama tells me he’s not a bad man,
He’s just going through some problems right now,
But everything will be okay.
Thursday, mama comes home.
He sits on his chair, drinking his gin.
Nothing’s said, he falls asleep.
Friday, I wake up.
Mama’s cooking breakfast.
I miss the school bus;
I’m allowed to go back to sleep.
Saturday night, 10:59pm.
I’m in my room, screaming heard.
Mother yells, "I'm tired of this."
Gun shot,
Someone hits the floor.
I look at my teddy and I say to him,
“Daddy’s home.”
By: Theron Jackson
I watched my sister, age 16, leave home because of him.
She just packed her bags,
A move to grandma’s house.
“He’s crazy,” my mother yells on the phone to her friend,
The next door neighbor, Mrs. Kenley.
She’s always sticking her nose in everybody’s business.
At least that’s what my sister used to say.
Sunday, he listens to the baseball game on the radio.
“Hey woman, where’s my dinner?”
“It’s coming. I’m sorry it’s late honey.
I had to go to the store to pick up a few items.”
“These beans are hot! You trying to kill me woman?!
You trying to murder me bitch! Answer me damn it!”
“No,” she says in pure fear,
Backing away with tears down her face.
She knows what’s coming next.
He smacks her,
The white spit turning red to blood squirting from her mouth.
Mama falls once again to the floor,
He kicks her relentlessly
As if she was some soccer ball, begging to be played with.
“Stupid whore, I told you not to make me upset!
You know I hate hitting you, why do you do this to me?”
He kneels down.
He says he’s sorry, and he loves her and he’ll never do it again.
Monday, I come home from school;
The ambulance is taking Mama away.
He decided sense he got laid off, mama’s ribs was a good place
To take out his frustration.
The hospital bed,
Mama tells me he’s not a bad man,
He’s just going through some problems right now,
But everything will be okay.
Thursday, mama comes home.
He sits on his chair, drinking his gin.
Nothing’s said, he falls asleep.
Friday, I wake up.
Mama’s cooking breakfast.
I miss the school bus;
I’m allowed to go back to sleep.
Saturday night, 10:59pm.
I’m in my room, screaming heard.
Mother yells, "I'm tired of this."
Gun shot,
Someone hits the floor.
I look at my teddy and I say to him,
“Daddy’s home.”
Destiny
By: Theron Jackson
We all lose touch with reality at sometime,
Wondering what this life is going to throw at us next.
How will we fight it? How will we take it? How will we understand?
Maybe there isn’t a true answer to any of this,
But we search for one hoping that it’s there.
But will we find it, and if we do, will the answer we share?
You and I have something to talk about. Is it our minds?
How they interact with each other;
How we worry about our sisters and our brothers,
How we try to find reasons why,
How we try so hard not to cry, but we do,
And maybe it’s because we can’t find our way,
Or just maybe we want to wake up tomorrow
And wishing we don’t die today.
Well who knows, maybe were okay.
We’re just driving ourselves insane.
Sometimes we do that to ourselves,
Cause there is nothing left to blame.
But whatever it is, there’s is no denying
That our dreams, our visions, and the line that crosses you to me,
Whatever’s at work here, it has to be destiny.
By: Theron Jackson
We all lose touch with reality at sometime,
Wondering what this life is going to throw at us next.
How will we fight it? How will we take it? How will we understand?
Maybe there isn’t a true answer to any of this,
But we search for one hoping that it’s there.
But will we find it, and if we do, will the answer we share?
You and I have something to talk about. Is it our minds?
How they interact with each other;
How we worry about our sisters and our brothers,
How we try to find reasons why,
How we try so hard not to cry, but we do,
And maybe it’s because we can’t find our way,
Or just maybe we want to wake up tomorrow
And wishing we don’t die today.
Well who knows, maybe were okay.
We’re just driving ourselves insane.
Sometimes we do that to ourselves,
Cause there is nothing left to blame.
But whatever it is, there’s is no denying
That our dreams, our visions, and the line that crosses you to me,
Whatever’s at work here, it has to be destiny.
Disillusion Lullaby
By: Theron Jackson
I hear the screams come through the tower.
The happy ghost remains a coward.
Who are you to fill this love with fray?
Blood leaks out, my soul is faithless.
All these broken bones become the killers of which their words I believe.
Don’t be long, their crying grows.
I’m in this graveyard where the werewolf roams
To the steps of the vampire’s wind.
She’ll never dance again; her wings won’t let her feet hit the ground.
We’ll devour them.
Seek their minds and they’ll praise us for letting ourselves in.
No, I’m not the naïve rabbit wasting away in disorder’s line.
You won’t forget me; no one else’s words can make the sun blind.
Here’s my sword. Can I help you kill her demons?
She’s too afraid to understand my season.
Just sit down and pray, and they’ll run away.
Just smile, I don’t want you to bleed.
I just need to love you, guide you away from all their lies.
Push you into my dream where I kill for you,
Where I die for you, in this place.
Peace is my sword, and honor becomes the only knowledge I know.
This place is where the fickle die,
And happiness grows outside my window.
No more blood on the leaves in the garden.
The shade of red never dances through my thoughts,
Like careless rumors that angels don’t exist.
Please don’t become like them, they can’t love truth.
It’s a word that burns through their veins,
Like winter and summer fighting in spring.
Is this space? There sure are a lot of stars out here.
This dark cancer eating through my liver,
Portraying leprechauns sipping grasshopper soup.
Sometime tomorrow, I’ll forget you came.
I’ll remember you sleeping,
And you’ll be dreaming I was standing outside your door while it rains.
I’ll let myself in, damp and cold, gentle little whispers in your ears.
My forgotten, it’s here that reality becomes real,
And here’s where your secrets unfold.
So long decaying butterfly,
I need to hear the sweet angel sing a disillusion lullaby.
By: Theron Jackson
I hear the screams come through the tower.
The happy ghost remains a coward.
Who are you to fill this love with fray?
Blood leaks out, my soul is faithless.
All these broken bones become the killers of which their words I believe.
Don’t be long, their crying grows.
I’m in this graveyard where the werewolf roams
To the steps of the vampire’s wind.
She’ll never dance again; her wings won’t let her feet hit the ground.
We’ll devour them.
Seek their minds and they’ll praise us for letting ourselves in.
No, I’m not the naïve rabbit wasting away in disorder’s line.
You won’t forget me; no one else’s words can make the sun blind.
Here’s my sword. Can I help you kill her demons?
She’s too afraid to understand my season.
Just sit down and pray, and they’ll run away.
Just smile, I don’t want you to bleed.
I just need to love you, guide you away from all their lies.
Push you into my dream where I kill for you,
Where I die for you, in this place.
Peace is my sword, and honor becomes the only knowledge I know.
This place is where the fickle die,
And happiness grows outside my window.
No more blood on the leaves in the garden.
The shade of red never dances through my thoughts,
Like careless rumors that angels don’t exist.
Please don’t become like them, they can’t love truth.
It’s a word that burns through their veins,
Like winter and summer fighting in spring.
Is this space? There sure are a lot of stars out here.
This dark cancer eating through my liver,
Portraying leprechauns sipping grasshopper soup.
Sometime tomorrow, I’ll forget you came.
I’ll remember you sleeping,
And you’ll be dreaming I was standing outside your door while it rains.
I’ll let myself in, damp and cold, gentle little whispers in your ears.
My forgotten, it’s here that reality becomes real,
And here’s where your secrets unfold.
So long decaying butterfly,
I need to hear the sweet angel sing a disillusion lullaby.
Jen Soignier January 31 at 5:43pm
"All these broken bones are killers whose words I believe"
Drowned at sea
By Theron Jackson
A shatter heart seems quite familiar like bleeding flowers growing from out the gray.
I know it could all go wrong, and love will fade away into nothingness.
I guess all you’ll want to do is find another story and adapt to the scenery.
She told me once, that she would love to die in the snow. Were all killers down here.
We all wait and watch it burn. Sunlight a dark day, I’m not in her story I’ve drowned at sea.
And she’ll never think of love and glory. As if my sweet dreams could ever come true.
I don’t want it to end, I’m still waiting for it to begin. So maybe the poet’s will write again.
Maybe I’ll gain sight of what really matters, maybe I’ll remember my heart still beats.
That’s when I’ll
Find
Me.
By Theron Jackson
A shatter heart seems quite familiar like bleeding flowers growing from out the gray.
I know it could all go wrong, and love will fade away into nothingness.
I guess all you’ll want to do is find another story and adapt to the scenery.
She told me once, that she would love to die in the snow. Were all killers down here.
We all wait and watch it burn. Sunlight a dark day, I’m not in her story I’ve drowned at sea.
And she’ll never think of love and glory. As if my sweet dreams could ever come true.
I don’t want it to end, I’m still waiting for it to begin. So maybe the poet’s will write again.
Maybe I’ll gain sight of what really matters, maybe I’ll remember my heart still beats.
That’s when I’ll
Find
Me.
Hospital Bed
By: Theron Jackson
Did anyone notice I’m dying here?
There is so much fear,
A reason to find my way home.
Insane and crazy, locked in a suitcase,
The secrets I take to my grave.
A memory of a duck, a love I once shared.
That girl who was just a fuck.
They say when it's your end, you know by the skin pigment on one’s face.
I have this symphony playing in my head.
How shallow, I want no one to take sympathy for me,
So many things right and everything wrong.
Trapped inside a dream where everyone cares.
I saw him die in his mother’s arms.
Tears follow a trail to a pillow, white as the clouds outside.
Is this a moment to recognize, a life closing into the next chapter?
Thinking of this inside my mind, feels almost sane,
Not worrying, no children left behind,
Just disappointments
A grievance of a wish that there was more you could have done
To be a little happier as the days went by.
When a friend cried, you were there to hold them,
Tell them it would be okay.
A shattered mirror, an undertaker, the preacher saying his last words.
How simple, but they have no meaning,
Could he possibly understand the intensity of a dying person
Wanting to leave a legacy of pure awesome breeding with greatness?
No, I don’t think anyone can.
To mistake life for death.
To excuse hate for love.
Never to forgive, wishing to forget.
She said I do, he lived through a car wreck.
One last telephone call to their lovely.
She was all that you adore, nothing less, nothing more.
Is it too late? Is it a reason to cry?
Does everyone see the light?
Are angels really standing near?
I don’t know. I just want to find my way home.
Where happiness dwells, peace is the air we breathe.
Love isn’t a joke, and what the hell is greed?
Aww, happiness, is it worth dying for?
I don’t know, maybe one day I will see.
By: Theron Jackson
Did anyone notice I’m dying here?
There is so much fear,
A reason to find my way home.
Insane and crazy, locked in a suitcase,
The secrets I take to my grave.
A memory of a duck, a love I once shared.
That girl who was just a fuck.
They say when it's your end, you know by the skin pigment on one’s face.
I have this symphony playing in my head.
How shallow, I want no one to take sympathy for me,
So many things right and everything wrong.
Trapped inside a dream where everyone cares.
I saw him die in his mother’s arms.
Tears follow a trail to a pillow, white as the clouds outside.
Is this a moment to recognize, a life closing into the next chapter?
Thinking of this inside my mind, feels almost sane,
Not worrying, no children left behind,
Just disappointments
A grievance of a wish that there was more you could have done
To be a little happier as the days went by.
When a friend cried, you were there to hold them,
Tell them it would be okay.
A shattered mirror, an undertaker, the preacher saying his last words.
How simple, but they have no meaning,
Could he possibly understand the intensity of a dying person
Wanting to leave a legacy of pure awesome breeding with greatness?
No, I don’t think anyone can.
To mistake life for death.
To excuse hate for love.
Never to forgive, wishing to forget.
She said I do, he lived through a car wreck.
One last telephone call to their lovely.
She was all that you adore, nothing less, nothing more.
Is it too late? Is it a reason to cry?
Does everyone see the light?
Are angels really standing near?
I don’t know. I just want to find my way home.
Where happiness dwells, peace is the air we breathe.
Love isn’t a joke, and what the hell is greed?
Aww, happiness, is it worth dying for?
I don’t know, maybe one day I will see.
I saw the sun
By Theron Jackson
There was a dream I had, the clouds were puffy white but there was no sun in the sky. I walked into a smile waiting for me. Maybe I’ve been gone to long, these illusions play games inside my head. What if the sky began to fall and there was nowhere to run? What if love plotted to kill us all and caring was its gun. Would someone save us? Could we save ourselves? I’m with you the broken nightmare descending into the gray; the smoke is getting in my eyes, and no more sunshine all the good souls flew away. Pretty darkness I feel the heart beats of one I loved to the end. We can’t all stay broken I won’t believe in a fairytale. I won’t give devastation a reason to say my name. You can’t save the world. Maybe not but I won’t sit back and find reasons to blame. Its getting late and I feel like there’s no more tears to cry, and were not ready, its never easy excepting your going to die. So love put down the gun, I won’t say it’ll be all right, because I’m just a man and we all could die tonight. Lost dreamers don’t be what they tell you to be. Yeah I’ve seen her, no one understood her smile but me. What is it to become everything you want to be, but no one could see you because they’re all blind. Maybe I’m the sun; maybe I’m just to scare to shine. This is fear contemplating, the sun only shines if love succeeds. Some one has to fall? I don’t mine if they point the finger at me. So I run out of the graveyard with the craziest thoughts in my head. You have to make a choice, either chose being alive, or live your life as if you’re already dead. And I think some one may begin to see, and the air becomes cleaner. I can smell the apples growing from that apple tree. I won’t be gone long; I’m just a thought away. Well what about love? Love is in me; love has thrown the gun away. We can’t all stay broken, I can only believe in what I feel. In this dream I had, I walked into a smile waiting for me, and I felt at that moment my life had just begun. A dying gaze into the sky, and I saw the sun smiling at me.
By Theron Jackson
There was a dream I had, the clouds were puffy white but there was no sun in the sky. I walked into a smile waiting for me. Maybe I’ve been gone to long, these illusions play games inside my head. What if the sky began to fall and there was nowhere to run? What if love plotted to kill us all and caring was its gun. Would someone save us? Could we save ourselves? I’m with you the broken nightmare descending into the gray; the smoke is getting in my eyes, and no more sunshine all the good souls flew away. Pretty darkness I feel the heart beats of one I loved to the end. We can’t all stay broken I won’t believe in a fairytale. I won’t give devastation a reason to say my name. You can’t save the world. Maybe not but I won’t sit back and find reasons to blame. Its getting late and I feel like there’s no more tears to cry, and were not ready, its never easy excepting your going to die. So love put down the gun, I won’t say it’ll be all right, because I’m just a man and we all could die tonight. Lost dreamers don’t be what they tell you to be. Yeah I’ve seen her, no one understood her smile but me. What is it to become everything you want to be, but no one could see you because they’re all blind. Maybe I’m the sun; maybe I’m just to scare to shine. This is fear contemplating, the sun only shines if love succeeds. Some one has to fall? I don’t mine if they point the finger at me. So I run out of the graveyard with the craziest thoughts in my head. You have to make a choice, either chose being alive, or live your life as if you’re already dead. And I think some one may begin to see, and the air becomes cleaner. I can smell the apples growing from that apple tree. I won’t be gone long; I’m just a thought away. Well what about love? Love is in me; love has thrown the gun away. We can’t all stay broken, I can only believe in what I feel. In this dream I had, I walked into a smile waiting for me, and I felt at that moment my life had just begun. A dying gaze into the sky, and I saw the sun smiling at me.
Jen Soignier September 21, 2010 at 8:32pm
There was a dream I had, the clouds were puffy white but there was no sun in the sky. Maybe I’ve been gone to long, these illusions seem like lies. What if the sky began to fall and there was nowhere to run? What if love plotted to kill us all and caring was its gun? The broken nightmare descending into the gray; the smoke is getting in my eyes; no more sunshine all good souls flew away. Pretty darkness, I feel the heartbeats of one I loved to the end. I won’t give devastation a reason to say my name! I can't save the world; I won’t sit back and find reasons to blame. Its getting late and I feel there’s no more tears to cry, we're not ready, its never easy accepting you're going to die. So love put down the gun. I won’t say it’ll be all right, because I’m just a man and we all could die tonight. Lost dreamers aren't what they seem to be, Yeah I’ve seen her, no one understood her smile but me. I became everything I wanted to be, but no one could see me because they're all blind. Maybe I’m the sun; maybe I’m just to scared to shine. The sun only shines if love succeeds. Someone always has to fall, I don’t mine if they point the finger at me. So I run out of the graveyard with the craziest thoughts in my head. You have to make a choice, either chose being alive, or live your life as if you’re already dead. And I think some one may begin to see, and the air becomes cleaner. I can smell the apples growing from that apple tree. I won’t be gone long; I’m just a thought away. And about love...love is in me; love has thrown the gun away. We can’t all stay broken, I can believe what I feel. In this dream I had,walking into a smile waiting for me. And I felt at that moment my life had just begun. A dying gaze into the sky, and I saw the sun smiling at me.
Jen Soignier September 21, 2010 at 8:33pm
run should be ran.
Jen Soignier September 21, 2010 at 8:34pm
take out and in the last sentence so
"A dying gaze into the sky; I saw the sun smiling at me."
more powerful that way :)
"A dying gaze into the sky; I saw the sun smiling at me."
more powerful that way :)
Reply:
If I fall
By Theron Jackson
It really doesn’t matter if I fall, because I’ll die knowing love is me, and I will fly high like a dove so free, and these angels will call my name.
I woke up yesterday and realize I’ve forgotten about me. How could I be so careless and walk outside without my coat in the rain.
Mother oh how I miss you, I wish I could hear the songs you use to sing. This life has become to much, my life has yet to begin.
I’m reaching for your hand, so please tell you’ll forever be my friend. I’m praying that I see autumn, and dream that one day I’ll be complete.
The war for love will never end, so how could I believe it would stop with me. Once again this tornado screams my name.
And once again someone will put my essence with words of blame, but I can take the pain, I don’t mine feeling the rain on my face.
I’ll fight through the demons I will make the hurt erase. I am lost so this is a reason to be found. I am happy even though they wish to see me down.
Yea, it really doesn’t matter if I fall, because I’ll die knowing love is me, and I shall fly high like a dove so free, and all these angels will call my name.
By Theron Jackson
It really doesn’t matter if I fall, because I’ll die knowing love is me, and I will fly high like a dove so free, and these angels will call my name.
I woke up yesterday and realize I’ve forgotten about me. How could I be so careless and walk outside without my coat in the rain.
Mother oh how I miss you, I wish I could hear the songs you use to sing. This life has become to much, my life has yet to begin.
I’m reaching for your hand, so please tell you’ll forever be my friend. I’m praying that I see autumn, and dream that one day I’ll be complete.
The war for love will never end, so how could I believe it would stop with me. Once again this tornado screams my name.
And once again someone will put my essence with words of blame, but I can take the pain, I don’t mine feeling the rain on my face.
I’ll fight through the demons I will make the hurt erase. I am lost so this is a reason to be found. I am happy even though they wish to see me down.
Yea, it really doesn’t matter if I fall, because I’ll die knowing love is me, and I shall fly high like a dove so free, and all these angels will call my name.
Reply:
Insanity’s Last Kiss
By: Theron Jackson
Hello, how do you kill a demon that won’t die?
They’ve made a voodoo doll of me.
They keep poking needles in my eyes.
The doctor said I have no hope; it’s been too hard to keep those bodies cold.
I’m running, but this story is getting old.
The rabbit, my rabbit, she’s dying to kiss a deer.
Stupid little whore, keep fucking your illiterate queer.
I stepped on a mouse eating blue cheese.
It costs so much money to rape a little girl thirsting for some juice.
She screamed and I cried.
She started to bleed, and I could have died.
She stopped breathing. She’s not breathing anymore,
So I built a new house and hid her body under the floor.
I’m sorry little girl, your life was so brand new,
But I helped you in your attempt to cherish it.
I needed to watch your warm body turn blue.
I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy, I don’t mean to be this way.
Midnight is happy. Noon brings blood today.
Don’t you shatter me, don’t you help me kill myself.
You fucked me, you hugged me, you take my world.
Now I have nothing left.
So much, too much, nothing I can’t conceive.
Hello little rabbit, do you love the rainbow?
Do you still believe no one believes in me?
So I cry and cut myself so that my demons will fade away.
Don’t touch me, I’m precious, I’m lovely, I’m an angel forgotten to pray.
I won’t punish you, but you would love to punish me.
Pull out my hair, cut off my hand.
I deserve to be free.
I want it, I need it,
Please, I have this feeling I’m not alive.
Why won’t they kill me?
I dream of the blood raining from the sky.
To stand on a mountain, ravaging blood shed abodes me.
For a will to be done,
Gun pointed at beautiful spear piercing through my heart.
Fuck you, angel.
You left, you’ve torn us apart.
I jumped off.
Crashed into the jagged rocks,
But I’m still alive and how sad is it to see.
No matter how much I try,
Only God can kill me.
By: Theron Jackson
Hello, how do you kill a demon that won’t die?
They’ve made a voodoo doll of me.
They keep poking needles in my eyes.
The doctor said I have no hope; it’s been too hard to keep those bodies cold.
I’m running, but this story is getting old.
The rabbit, my rabbit, she’s dying to kiss a deer.
Stupid little whore, keep fucking your illiterate queer.
I stepped on a mouse eating blue cheese.
It costs so much money to rape a little girl thirsting for some juice.
She screamed and I cried.
She started to bleed, and I could have died.
She stopped breathing. She’s not breathing anymore,
So I built a new house and hid her body under the floor.
I’m sorry little girl, your life was so brand new,
But I helped you in your attempt to cherish it.
I needed to watch your warm body turn blue.
I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy, I don’t mean to be this way.
Midnight is happy. Noon brings blood today.
Don’t you shatter me, don’t you help me kill myself.
You fucked me, you hugged me, you take my world.
Now I have nothing left.
So much, too much, nothing I can’t conceive.
Hello little rabbit, do you love the rainbow?
Do you still believe no one believes in me?
So I cry and cut myself so that my demons will fade away.
Don’t touch me, I’m precious, I’m lovely, I’m an angel forgotten to pray.
I won’t punish you, but you would love to punish me.
Pull out my hair, cut off my hand.
I deserve to be free.
I want it, I need it,
Please, I have this feeling I’m not alive.
Why won’t they kill me?
I dream of the blood raining from the sky.
To stand on a mountain, ravaging blood shed abodes me.
For a will to be done,
Gun pointed at beautiful spear piercing through my heart.
Fuck you, angel.
You left, you’ve torn us apart.
I jumped off.
Crashed into the jagged rocks,
But I’m still alive and how sad is it to see.
No matter how much I try,
Only God can kill me.
Jen Soignier September 21, 2010 at 8:23pm
Take out the part about the girl.
Go from
I'm running, but this story is getting old
to
Don't you shatter me, don't you help me kill myself.
I think it would be much better. The parts about the girl are distracting
Go from
I'm running, but this story is getting old
to
Don't you shatter me, don't you help me kill myself.
I think it would be much better. The parts about the girl are distracting
Crazy i know i don't remember writing this poem.
Jen Soignier September 21, 2010 at 8:35pm
You just get sidetracked by the girl stuff
It doesn't fit with the rest of the poem.
If you like, use it as a separate poem.
It doesn't fit with the rest of the poem.
If you like, use it as a separate poem.
Inside My Dreams of Sunshine
By: Theron Jackson
This is where, I walk in bloody and beaten from the fight, my wounds indicate the struggle I was in to show you how much I love you. Some things are incapable to see light, especially when darkness answers the door for you. No one can be happy every day of their life, pretending is as hypocritical as that friend who hates you, but continues to give you a smile. Am I happy? I figure one day I shall be. Why am I sad? Because failure has become me. Well, this is not regret talking or a call for sympathy. This is hurt inside of my emotions, killing my sweet dreams of the rain. No one should ever feel like their destiny is to be alone. No one should contemplate a reason for not finding a place they belong. I say my prayers, just to break my promises the next day when I wake. Superficial and I shouldn’t be, unstable is my friend and enemy. Sad stories are best told by the willow tree. What is it you want lost one? I just want to be free. Free from my thoughts of corrosion and death, but resurrected through an essence of love hoping there’s a little left. Just one morning, I’d love to wake up from being kissed by a ray of light. The snow would open my window, and I’d truly understand when I look in the mirror and really see me, inside my dreams of sunshine where I can’t help but be free.
By: Theron Jackson
This is where, I walk in bloody and beaten from the fight, my wounds indicate the struggle I was in to show you how much I love you. Some things are incapable to see light, especially when darkness answers the door for you. No one can be happy every day of their life, pretending is as hypocritical as that friend who hates you, but continues to give you a smile. Am I happy? I figure one day I shall be. Why am I sad? Because failure has become me. Well, this is not regret talking or a call for sympathy. This is hurt inside of my emotions, killing my sweet dreams of the rain. No one should ever feel like their destiny is to be alone. No one should contemplate a reason for not finding a place they belong. I say my prayers, just to break my promises the next day when I wake. Superficial and I shouldn’t be, unstable is my friend and enemy. Sad stories are best told by the willow tree. What is it you want lost one? I just want to be free. Free from my thoughts of corrosion and death, but resurrected through an essence of love hoping there’s a little left. Just one morning, I’d love to wake up from being kissed by a ray of light. The snow would open my window, and I’d truly understand when I look in the mirror and really see me, inside my dreams of sunshine where I can’t help but be free.
Jen Soignier January 31 at 5:41pm
"This is where I walk in, bloody and beaten from the fight.
My wounds from the struggle I was in show how much I love you.
Some people are incapable of seeing light,
especially when darkness answers the door for you"
My wounds from the struggle I was in show how much I love you.
Some people are incapable of seeing light,
especially when darkness answers the door for you"
Killers on Sunday
By Theron Jackson
If only time was simple, if only life would believe in the essence of you. Maybe I would be perfect, maybe my wings would grow back all shiny and new.
I thought about saying hello, but my face sigh away. I guess you only remember to do what your use too.
I’m sorry for being so weak. I know I could be so much more. I’m not humble are meek I guess that’s why you never gave me a key to heaven’s door.
Well what if I found a away to shine, would you be gracious and make the sun mine?
And what if I live on your every word, would you sing me songs of beauty I never heard?
I promise to love because love is the way, and I’ll kill all the hateful killers on Sunday.
If only time was simple, and I could fly to heaven again. That would be perfect, like a sweet dream with no end
By Theron Jackson
If only time was simple, if only life would believe in the essence of you. Maybe I would be perfect, maybe my wings would grow back all shiny and new.
I thought about saying hello, but my face sigh away. I guess you only remember to do what your use too.
I’m sorry for being so weak. I know I could be so much more. I’m not humble are meek I guess that’s why you never gave me a key to heaven’s door.
Well what if I found a away to shine, would you be gracious and make the sun mine?
And what if I live on your every word, would you sing me songs of beauty I never heard?
I promise to love because love is the way, and I’ll kill all the hateful killers on Sunday.
If only time was simple, and I could fly to heaven again. That would be perfect, like a sweet dream with no end
Lazy Dandelions
By: Theron Jackson
Desire a scenery of the dolphin swimming slow inside a sentimental dove, she gives me her phantoms scaring hot into cold. I’m afraid of myself, I love far too much. Did you ever hear of a sun dragon that couldn’t live in the sun? Conceited but pretty, a face that mother shown to me once in a moon forgetting to shine. Pain is a factor. Why is it, I’ve fallen to the soil? Why is why? Her season killing mine. Create a memory of an angel dying in a river of blood. I was a shadow, held captive under gloom. There were cries, there were smiles. She was crazy, blowing frantic in the wind. The screams devour my heart, crushing my every ambition to stop my significant other from twirling her hair, but you saw me kiss her, and you lied to me. Oh, how I lied to myself, because I only did it because I knew you were there. I fell asleep. The whisper of the lazy dandelions, they tell me in the morning before my demise. Desire a scenery of the dolphin swimming slow. Who are you faceless? What is it you can’t show? I can’t wake from this reality. Life has been too mean. So this is heaven? Pink roses filling a pasture of green? Yeah, this is heaven. She hands me back my soul. I’m sorry careful, caring as you bleed. I forgive your season. Please, enjoy this sunset setting for me. Here’s my knife. Can I stick it in your back? Slowly it seeps in, the smallest wound. A dog snuggled up with a cat. The rainbow, hollow, demented, enchanted, and free. Lovely green fish. Lovely like semen in tea.
By: Theron Jackson
Desire a scenery of the dolphin swimming slow inside a sentimental dove, she gives me her phantoms scaring hot into cold. I’m afraid of myself, I love far too much. Did you ever hear of a sun dragon that couldn’t live in the sun? Conceited but pretty, a face that mother shown to me once in a moon forgetting to shine. Pain is a factor. Why is it, I’ve fallen to the soil? Why is why? Her season killing mine. Create a memory of an angel dying in a river of blood. I was a shadow, held captive under gloom. There were cries, there were smiles. She was crazy, blowing frantic in the wind. The screams devour my heart, crushing my every ambition to stop my significant other from twirling her hair, but you saw me kiss her, and you lied to me. Oh, how I lied to myself, because I only did it because I knew you were there. I fell asleep. The whisper of the lazy dandelions, they tell me in the morning before my demise. Desire a scenery of the dolphin swimming slow. Who are you faceless? What is it you can’t show? I can’t wake from this reality. Life has been too mean. So this is heaven? Pink roses filling a pasture of green? Yeah, this is heaven. She hands me back my soul. I’m sorry careful, caring as you bleed. I forgive your season. Please, enjoy this sunset setting for me. Here’s my knife. Can I stick it in your back? Slowly it seeps in, the smallest wound. A dog snuggled up with a cat. The rainbow, hollow, demented, enchanted, and free. Lovely green fish. Lovely like semen in tea.
Jen Soignier July 21, 2010 at 2:23pm
like semen in tea. like semen in tea. bahaha. Wth is up with that line lol.
there's nothing lovely about semen in tea it's his pay back for deception spawn for a broken heart.
Jen Soignier July 21, 2010 at 4:07pm
have you ever HAD semen in tea? maybe its lovely. i think as the creator of this idea you are bound to try it.
no u try it missy!
Jen Soignier July 21, 2010 at 4:24pm
ah, no. i didnt invent it. what if creators never tried their inventions. it would be a horrible thing. you try it.
i don't think so, no semen no where near my mouth..
Jen Soignier July 21, 2010 at 4:33pm
Whatever like you've never had a snowball.
what does that mean?
Jen Soignier July 21, 2010 at 4:49pm
^^
If you are innocent im not telling you. Pick a number 1-5
If you are innocent im not telling you. Pick a number 1-5
2
Mangled Angel Wings
By: Theron Jackson
She walks past the same alley Sasha Higgins was found raped and murdered. Truly a sight of hateful attributes laughing at the gentle sky, breaking through from a hurricane. She was a friend, little freckles and all. Eyelashes and makeup, pretty even when she’s ugly. Never mistaken for a soulless bitch like her mother. You think I like screwing people for money? I do it to feed you, to put clothes on your back. But what about the needles? Do you enjoy the pain of poison you inject in your veins? How does it feel to murder you, murder the baby inside? She breaks down. She crumbles. It hurts that she can’t think of a lie. Mother, the grim reaper is here, your time is up. Are you prepared to meet your maker? Don’t let him take me, I can change, I can make it all better. Believe me. No time to believe. She watches as he rips her heart away. Blood spatters over the chicken soup she took hours to perfect. But now she knows not to worry anymore. Her demon, once her mother, isn’t here to cause havoc any longer. It’s an early morning. The same walk past the alley where they found her friend for so many years trampled on like trash six weeks old. It’s not right to hurt this way. Sasha was a good girl. I remember the time she gave me her shoes, and she fought off those three girls for me. They were trying to take my coat. A murder scene. Why do I constantly change the subject in my head? They found this body of a girl, but I know she wasn’t just an ordinary human. I witnessed her fly away, but they set a trap. Her wings chopped to pieces. If you can’t fly, why should you live?
By: Theron Jackson
She walks past the same alley Sasha Higgins was found raped and murdered. Truly a sight of hateful attributes laughing at the gentle sky, breaking through from a hurricane. She was a friend, little freckles and all. Eyelashes and makeup, pretty even when she’s ugly. Never mistaken for a soulless bitch like her mother. You think I like screwing people for money? I do it to feed you, to put clothes on your back. But what about the needles? Do you enjoy the pain of poison you inject in your veins? How does it feel to murder you, murder the baby inside? She breaks down. She crumbles. It hurts that she can’t think of a lie. Mother, the grim reaper is here, your time is up. Are you prepared to meet your maker? Don’t let him take me, I can change, I can make it all better. Believe me. No time to believe. She watches as he rips her heart away. Blood spatters over the chicken soup she took hours to perfect. But now she knows not to worry anymore. Her demon, once her mother, isn’t here to cause havoc any longer. It’s an early morning. The same walk past the alley where they found her friend for so many years trampled on like trash six weeks old. It’s not right to hurt this way. Sasha was a good girl. I remember the time she gave me her shoes, and she fought off those three girls for me. They were trying to take my coat. A murder scene. Why do I constantly change the subject in my head? They found this body of a girl, but I know she wasn’t just an ordinary human. I witnessed her fly away, but they set a trap. Her wings chopped to pieces. If you can’t fly, why should you live?
Midnight in the garden while the fireflies dance
By
Theron Jackson
Why is it always raining on me, in my open eyes this gentle shower imitates a forsaken melody. Green clovers she awakes onshore, what is it you say? Have you been dreaming in a dream? I only dream where the sweet hearts glow where yellow flowers sing songs to make their pedals grow. Dying emotions reluctant to breathe, what’s so great about the winter? The thoughts inside of you, the way your words intertwine with mine. The bitten off cookie left on the snow flakes melting away like June astonishing pretty as the wind smiles dashingly running away from fear. The push on, the falling in the leaves damped from the morning dew splashing silence so sleeping dreams do not wake. She is the sunshine, prancing in fog listening to the souls call out please hold me, there’s something in the trees consume my happiness, brittle and ugly her beauty far too much to conceive. Still waiting for it aren’t you, still waiting for the sword to fight with the gun, but this battle is fought in everyone with a heart all those found in kissing patches as she welcome a demise softly touched by a ghost confuse near tedious for an end. You aren’t the night pacing in darkness of day, if not for, forgiveness your face would not be here, you must have given yourself to have your tears bleed. I gave more than I should in a fairy watching woodpeckers peck through the wood. Bury me in the water, on sweet moonlight cautious beyond the gray, don’t leave love here someone may come to steal it away. Where are we going, beside the wise man speaking in the cave you only find knowledge the season no one will visit a grave. This is too much for me; being broken in nightmares by clashing waves it’s just too much. Is that an answer for why your disownment passes through like a tornadoes rush? Yes? I have been dreaming in dreams to forget dying, to forget bad dreams emerging from out of the gray. These seasons are pretty she’s unforeseen, a rainy morning a shadow a friend the missing sunlight in a soothing romance. Where do you see her, at midnight in the garden while the fireflies dance?
By
Theron Jackson
Why is it always raining on me, in my open eyes this gentle shower imitates a forsaken melody. Green clovers she awakes onshore, what is it you say? Have you been dreaming in a dream? I only dream where the sweet hearts glow where yellow flowers sing songs to make their pedals grow. Dying emotions reluctant to breathe, what’s so great about the winter? The thoughts inside of you, the way your words intertwine with mine. The bitten off cookie left on the snow flakes melting away like June astonishing pretty as the wind smiles dashingly running away from fear. The push on, the falling in the leaves damped from the morning dew splashing silence so sleeping dreams do not wake. She is the sunshine, prancing in fog listening to the souls call out please hold me, there’s something in the trees consume my happiness, brittle and ugly her beauty far too much to conceive. Still waiting for it aren’t you, still waiting for the sword to fight with the gun, but this battle is fought in everyone with a heart all those found in kissing patches as she welcome a demise softly touched by a ghost confuse near tedious for an end. You aren’t the night pacing in darkness of day, if not for, forgiveness your face would not be here, you must have given yourself to have your tears bleed. I gave more than I should in a fairy watching woodpeckers peck through the wood. Bury me in the water, on sweet moonlight cautious beyond the gray, don’t leave love here someone may come to steal it away. Where are we going, beside the wise man speaking in the cave you only find knowledge the season no one will visit a grave. This is too much for me; being broken in nightmares by clashing waves it’s just too much. Is that an answer for why your disownment passes through like a tornadoes rush? Yes? I have been dreaming in dreams to forget dying, to forget bad dreams emerging from out of the gray. These seasons are pretty she’s unforeseen, a rainy morning a shadow a friend the missing sunlight in a soothing romance. Where do you see her, at midnight in the garden while the fireflies dance?
Ocean Scream
By: Theron Jackson
What if the moon forgot to shine?
Then maybe they’ll wish for a star to find
Well, what if their cries became unheard?
With no sun in the sky, they’ll never see the birds
The killers have vanished without a trace
Just blisters of sorrow remain in their place
She said to me that this will not end
You’ll die tonight and let this story begin
Well what if the waves were unaware of precious hearts
bleeding in midnight’s glare?
Would love find me wasting? Would it even care?
Would the ocean scream push me there?
Well what if I tried, but could not see your way?
Would you learn to love me anyway?
If I died, would you still dream of me
chanting your name in a naïve scenery?
I don’t want this to be misunderstood
If I could save your life, you know that I would
I don’t need this to be real
If I want to, it’s very easy to kill
All I want is to live in peace
have a son or a daughter with a beautiful angel
and love that will never decrease
But I know that’s not my destiny
I’m here to save the many lost souls
drowning in this blood stricken sea.
Hopefully, in time, I can leave this place
And embrace my love with her angel's face
And maybe tomorrow they will understand
We all have a journey to walk upon this dying land
But what if the moon would start to shine?
And what of the stars that we might hope to find?
Well what if their cries had became heard, the sun shone bright, and we'd see every bird? And what of the ocean's scream?
By: Theron Jackson
What if the moon forgot to shine?
Then maybe they’ll wish for a star to find
Well, what if their cries became unheard?
With no sun in the sky, they’ll never see the birds
The killers have vanished without a trace
Just blisters of sorrow remain in their place
She said to me that this will not end
You’ll die tonight and let this story begin
Well what if the waves were unaware of precious hearts
bleeding in midnight’s glare?
Would love find me wasting? Would it even care?
Would the ocean scream push me there?
Well what if I tried, but could not see your way?
Would you learn to love me anyway?
If I died, would you still dream of me
chanting your name in a naïve scenery?
I don’t want this to be misunderstood
If I could save your life, you know that I would
I don’t need this to be real
If I want to, it’s very easy to kill
All I want is to live in peace
have a son or a daughter with a beautiful angel
and love that will never decrease
But I know that’s not my destiny
I’m here to save the many lost souls
drowning in this blood stricken sea.
Hopefully, in time, I can leave this place
And embrace my love with her angel's face
And maybe tomorrow they will understand
We all have a journey to walk upon this dying land
But what if the moon would start to shine?
And what of the stars that we might hope to find?
Well what if their cries had became heard, the sun shone bright, and we'd see every bird? And what of the ocean's scream?
Jen Soignier March 9, 2010 at 8:29pm
I love you. Its lovely....maybe one day we'll have a child, just to see how glorious he/she would be :)
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