blood

I just wrote a thing in the buss on my way home.

To enjoy the dead 

and hate the living

to be awake in bed

and never offer a giving

 

Poke your eyes out and hear

Every rock is screaming

                  be it far

                            be it near.

 

Crying while you take out

the blade from her chest.

"They made me do it!

    I'm weak!

He will kill menow

cause she told him to 

or she will die from his left hand

cause his right was cut

off by a righteous man

who fought for a woman

who never loved

after she was raped 

by the pastor

when she prayed 

to be free

but the pastor had taken 

more pills than

his mortal God

told him to take."

 

All that ends in hell

started in Eden.

 

You cry as I cry.

You don't see me 

as I see you,

but you can smell me.

You don't know that the smell is mine.

It just reminds you

of the home

you had

when you were a baby.

It reminds you

of your first love,

of your wife,

of your dead child,

though you never knew her,

it reminds you of

peace

and that makes you cry more and the guilt is tearingyour ribs and your own breath is suffocating you.

 

 

"

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. 

I'm sorry.I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

"

I can't forgive you.


Your egotistic delusions of self waste

I am the shadow, fading into silence

 

I am the words you shoved in a box

 

I am blood, sex & violence

behind the symbol of peace

 

I am light enraptured unto the void

from a thousand years of cosmic darkness

chasing the souls of stars

 

I am the mirror you wish to avoid

with the tears that coiled down the drain

& the years wasted on nothing--

but what you thought was yourself...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

5.10.15

*The Hunger*

Folder: 
Ballads

 

 December.22.1997/ April.10.2015

 Trisha Barrek Hopkins


(I)

A girl is on her knees

She is begging for something she can't have

Her face is pale 

Her eyes dim

The hate is stale

In a pool of blood she swims

Yet she has not reached

The one thing she hungers for

Love....Lust....Happy....Hate

She preaches....She begs....

She can only count on fate

Feeling a pain so sore

Through her heart a peg

Goes all the way to the core

 

(II)

She screams through anger

The hunger so strong

The tear falls

Hopeing if she begs more it doesn't hang her

Something calls

What could it be 

She stays silent

A heartbeat in the echo

Crazy....Mad....

Crying she hurries up a tree 

From there she can see....Not glad

He's further away with someone

She wants her to disappear

So she can have him for her own

To keep to herself

To have his love

But her heart is all stone

He is a dot in the morning sun now

Far in the distance

As not really there

She sees a cloth....A girl....A glove

 

(III)

In the moonlight

Her eye glistens with shine

But disappears with pain

A sudden fear

So deep she can taste it too fine

In a line so striaght

She jumps from the tree with fright

Something or somone follows

This bothers her alot 

She can not see in the darkness

So she remains in the tree in her spot

Wait....She senses it is empty and hollow

She jumps out of the tree 

She runs as fast as lightening

She falls.... scrapes her knee

A cloth....So red....A stain

 

(IV)

Round the cold heart

The hunger is back

She needs to feed

Or she'll fall apart

She wants that thing so bad

Where after her sweet pain

What she wants only makes her more sad

It is he she can not have

And one with trebling hands claps her cold head

He fans her with his moonlight wings and cries

"My love....My sorrow....You, You are not the one dead

She looks up into the eyes

Of the one who once held her

The one that loved her

The one that gave her kisses to

The one that she knew 

Chasing something one can never own

Like dew upon a sleeping flower

There lies a pale soul

She can no longer stand

There is no stone

Just space

Letting the hunger go she faded

Like a cloud which had out drained its rain

But that is not the case 

She knew it is love....The bloods only stain

 

(V)

The red glove in her hand

Her face in her lovers arms

Suddenly crying

Nothing there....That's not what she planned

Alone with the hunger

Trapped by the doors

Now the tears are pouring out

She is dying

She can feel it in her pores

No where is where she stays

She can feel the tears rolling down her face

In her heart he will stand

Heartbeats at a slower pace

No one is who she has

She needs him

She runs to him fast

She has done a sin

Now remembering all is in the past 

He is just a ghost in the moonlight 

She is lost 

She has nothing to win

But keeping his love she'll put up a fight 

For him she'll do it at any cost

 

Copyright

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Wrote this in my creative writting class and I updated it today. Please comment on it.

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Troy

One of the greatest victories in history unravelled before her eyes, more gruesome than she ever imagined.

Flames and blood ignited in her mind as the powerful sight of the ruin forced a vision of the jewel city shattering in her mind.


The vision slowly ebbed away revealing the crumbles and ashes of the same city.

The smallest of her steps created a tornado of cinders around her.

After one step her knees no longer supported her and the ash covered her as completely as a cacoon when she fell.


Pain like the sting of a bee overwhelmed her eyes, blurring her vision. The once clear scene in front of her became a swirl of dark black smoke. Suddenly, a figure walked out into her hazy sight. As far as she could tell, the person was a woman with long silver hair that floated around her head like a halo. Steadily, her blinking cleared away the fog but once her vision was crystal clear again the woman was gone.


An apparition?

A hallucination?

Or just a slight trick of the fog?

Whoever or whatever it was, was gone. Now the bricks of the fallen city lay still, as silent as the darkest midnight. She stood up shaking off the last of the ash and walked into the city. Small buildings surrounded a marketplace, the type of place where a normal family might have walked and played and laughed. Farther down, there was an arena built into the ground. The pit was flooded with rains after being unkempt by the owner. Normal everyday life was taken from this city--and because of what--A pretty girl. Unfair doesn’t even begin to cover the senseless violence that occurred here, in Troy.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is only a part of a longer story that I'm writing, so sorry about anything that doesn't make sense out of context.

Parade of Despair

Through the wet and rainy streets,
Cloaked in the liar's contacts. and bloody sheets
You know not of where you go,
But the blood you walk over and sew.

In this time, you believe you are okay,
Okay with murder that goes throughout the day
Through the homeless cries and terror
It's not your life or your own error

What's another's heart to hold in your hand mean?
If it doesn't give you the satisfaction and the attention of a queen?
Maybe somewhere, within your sickest dreams
Perhaps piercing the thickness, you can hear humanity screams
and in some part of your mind you care,
Or fail again, laughing maniacally as the blood drips in cold despair

Somehow, their commotion to you is entertaining
The bickering and troubles all the more sustaining
and yet somewhere, deep down, you realize it's not right.
But the sickness blinds you again, back again in the fright

Morality is like your brother, inside your mind, telling you it's wrong
But your voice cries out more louder, constantly crying, "But do I belong?"
and the shadow creeps in control of your hands and strikes again,
Like an old friend you've parted with that was poison, comes back attempting to explain

They say you are fine and you will be okay.
Like you say, except you are actually mentally astray
As the hand of sickness inside your mind plans out the next move
In reality you are empty, she says you have nothing to prove

The disgusting woman that is called society
Bringing forth what you tell others is anxiety
She holds you tight, like a incoherent mother
Whispering to you as she smothers you "There is no other"

Somehow throughout all that you have, depression calls,
Your father, comes to tell you "Despite the beautiful colors, you live within empty walls"
You cry for them to stop speaking
But they stop for none, they continue their horrid shrieking

As you fall to the ground, you try to escape by sleeping,
But it's only for a few hours, and time is weeping
You try to deny the things that you have mean and done
You salute to the cracked, and broken blurred skies of failure, and with it a black sun
Forever bringing a slanted shadow, that was once you, pleading "Bring me back, this wasn't really fun"

You yearn for something deep down, but without purpose for some reason
and your faces change again and again, like the months and the season
You know not anymore of what the world means to you
Forever alone you will be, cursed, trapped in your built igloo.

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THE CONQUEROR’S -V-I-C-T-O-R-Y- SONG

I am the Conqueror!

Who put fear in your bones,

and shivers in your spine.

I am the Bogeyman

who keeps you up all the time.

 

I am on a Jihad,

and I am here to conquer you,

cause your city is rightfully mine.

 

Manifest Destiny is my war cry in soprano.

Glory and Honour are my faithful generals,

to carrying out my genocides.

 

With the sounding of my war horns,

I stand strong and plan to live long,

on six million corpses

trampled beneath my mighty feet.

 

Blood, fire, and pain;

under my foul reign within the city gates.

Twisted metal and crumbled flesh,

bow before my fetish.

 

Crushed skulls and spilled brains

is the carpet my soles trample on,

to ease the strain on my feet.

 

Dark flames and rainbow smoke

engulfing the city streets.

 

Black rain and sizzling flesh-flakes

falling to the disgusted ground.

 

Bubbling steel and shearing meat

make sweet music in the air.

 

Dogs howling and widows wailing

at the inhumane expense.

 

Babies scream and jackals flee,

while hyenas laugh

at the madness of the cost.

 

Corbies leave for their sanity,

leaving corpses to pay the rent.

 

The Conqueror bellows his victory horn,

King of Kings, lord of conquest,

victory is his decree.

 

Herds of madden orphans,

hysterically screaming;

will pay the war tax

in the city streets.

 

I wash my feet

in the crimson river,

with Lily-pads of congeal tissue

floating by the water side.

 

I plant my flag with a deep dark curse,

and continue the warlord’s plague.

We will march from dawn till done

to affect the next crusade.

 

Braking bones and crushing hopes

Is the resounding theme of the times.

 

Exploding hearts and pulverizing souls

to harvest people's broken minds.

 

For I am the Conquering King,

who always win,

and still need to kill!!!

Leegal Poet

Wayne Ferron.All rights reserved @ Copyright

View 's Full Portfolio

Broken Mask

I broke my mask,
It fell, chipped and cracked,
So I threw it against the wall,
Just to break it a little more.

 

I watched in crumble under overwhelmed hands,
Slamming it into the floor breaking so easy,
While my blood flowed hot with anger,
Emotions bottled up broke free.

 

And I did something I hadn't done in years,
Trickles of red down my leg,
They'll scar,
But it I hardly feel it.

 

It didn't help,
Just took the edge off,
I still feel my emotional instability,
I need to calm down,
But all I want to do is hurt and cry and shout.

 

My mind cycles back and it hurts,
So much hurts,
But feels like nothing at all,
It's just too much.

 

No one knows but you,
And you,
And you,
But even you don't really know,
So what's the harm.

 

Thank you.

 

I do want to say something,
Give those I talk to a hint,
let them know I'm not okay,
but I don't want questions,
I wont want pity or worry.

 

The only one that would understand,
That would show theirs to compare,
Is unreachable.

 

These are going to scar,
But it's easy to explain away,
Or they'll fade to nothing,
Like the others...

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Sorry, this is a bit of a mess, but I'm a bit of a mess right now.

Can you tell I'm venting?

 

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Picking Where To Make My Art??

Folder: 
Depression/sadness

Picking a spot on my body

to make my cuts today.

 

There are so many 

places I can choose from,

so many places that I've already cut on.

 

 

Maybe I'll cut on my hand,

maybe on my palm.

 

Maybe on my wrist,

maybe on my arm.

 

Maybe on my stomach,

maybe on my waistline.

 

Maybe on my thigh,

maybe on my legs.

 

Maybe on my ankle, 

maybe on the insides of my thighs....

 

Maybe where my underwear can cover,

 

hell, It's not like I haven't cut there before...

 

 

There are so many places

on my body

that I can take a blade to

and draw my art.

 

One cut here,

another cut there...

 

maybe a big one here,

and a small one there.

 

Cut, cut, cut, cut

my head screams to me,

my hands beg of me,

my blade calls to me.

 

 

I'm picking a place on 

my body,

a spot to make a new cut,

a new piece of art...

 

Where will I pick today?

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The Title is a rough draft... I'm not totally sure about it... Any ideas would be much appreciated!

 

Let me know what you think about it!

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What It Is

I feel like every single thing is like a mind game,  played and laid out for me

I can't feel a single thing, like I'm not blind, but I still can't see

 

What is it really? Perhaps it's not that important?

Tell me what it is, or is it just my own comportment?

 

I have walked in the very things I've looked down upon

What I once thought was selfish, now I too am wrong

 

and now there is blood all over my hand

But I have no idea why, I just don't understand

 

This is a complication called the human mind

Irony, double standards, hypocrisy, A place to be so blind

 

To wallow and loop in this thick puddle of shame

For the mistakes commited, I fairly wore the blame

 

Knowing is the beginning is something I suppose

It's better to learn, rather than to find it to oppose.

 

So I guess I'll take my feelings and throw them to the floor

I'll leave you where you originally were, trapped inside a closed door

 

And you can echo your goodbyes

as you embrace yourself to the ink of sheer ignorance and sighs..