What happens when you run out of dreams?

What happens when you experience this profound revelation one day?

When you receive this inclination that LIFE is merely a book cover

Of a stained reality..

An eclipse totally contradictive

Of what the contents lying within really mean..

Chapter after chapter

Of drama - happiness - sadness and laughter

Of pain - birth - heartache and despair

Love and hate - and indifference trapped inside of silence

Awaiting the demise of relationships like a period that is late

So many moments and emotions perpetuating one`s existence

Until sometimes - time feels as if it has defied itself

Because sometimes you become so outdone by the chapters in between

That you keep stopping to read the cover over and over because -

You just KNOW that reality cannot - possibly be that mean...

So when this revelation takes its place

Within the winds of change

Standing still against your time

And twisting trails of salt down the smoothness of your face

You realize that you`ve been more places throughout life you didn`t necessarily want to be

You realize that you have felt - heard and seen more sides of reality

Through the faces - eyes and lives of others than you ever wanted to see

And you find yourself racing

Adding chapter after chapter

Because you`ll be DAMNED if your "the end"

Will not be preluded by a "happily ever after"

But then -

Circumstances stake their claim

And the refractory periods in between your chapters

Have become so long over due

That you find it difficult as hell to maintain

Due to being muted by spiritual - emotional and mental disasters

And instead of your dreams screaming to be redeemed

By what walking in the light as one of the BEAUTIFUL ONES

Is supposed to mean...

While you were preoccupied by that profound revelation

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By Muriel Palanca

I look in the mirror. What do I see?

A lonely girl who wants to be free.

She's trapped inside but wants to come out.

Nobody hears her silent shouts.

Nobody gets her even though they try.

Sometimes she wishes that she would just die.

They push her too hard but it's never enough.

She just wanted support. Just wanted to be loved.

She smiles on the outside but cries like the rain.

She tries to be tough but inside she feels pain.

Her world is so shattered. The skies fallen down.

When it's put back together she'll be six feet underground.

They all pass her by not even a hello.

If they didn't want her there why didn't they just say so?

She stares back at me her heart so paralyzed.

Every time her heart breaks a part of her dies.

Her eyes are like mine and yet so afraid.

None of it real. Just an image she made.

Her life is so empty. An endless black hole.

It took all her freedom. It tore up her soul.

No more bright lights. Just an angel of death.

Waiting to take her until her last breath.

I look in the mirror. What do I see?

The truth behind bars. That girl is me.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Wow...I wrote this poem in 7th grade i think. It seems so long ago. I think that it's an ok poem. not one of my best. Actually it is pretty exageratted. but i like the title and the "story" of the poem. Maybe others can relate to it.

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A Poets Lament

Is He one of our blunders

Or are we one of His?

While my feet tread across

A patch of dead ground I

Begin to wonder just

Who created who.

Hard for eyes to see

In a world of greys

When most religions

Promenade in black and white

The color of text.

Most dont realize that

These writing, whether you

Consider them the Word of God

Or not, are simply words.

If you do not believe, then they

Can be viewed as a way to live,

Not force, but "good" none the less.

If you do believe, then it is a way

To live as shown to us by a

Higher power.

However, even in religion

It is up to the individual.

People kill in the name of

God, Mohammed, Vishnu,

Or any other God or god

They may have. Why?

We have had so many Gods

Throught time, who is to say

Mine is right and yours is wrong?

Who are WE to judge others belief?

Condemn our fellow man? No!

If you do believe then you should do the

EXACT opposite. We are told to embrace

For we are not to judge. But judge we do.

And it is this turning, this

Showing of our backs to

Our higher powers, whoever they may be

That must force us to see

That there are many with no

Organized religion

No set of rules to follow save

Their own, and yet they are

More accepting.

Forget all the "bad" in the world

That occurs and look into yourself.

See what you have done to others.

God or no God, you are the maker of

Your destiny. We control what happens.

We make decisions. They are not handed to


For the entirety of my life,

I will question, and second guess.

This is why we were given

The ability to do so.

And until my dying day

I will ask..

Is He one of our blunders

Or are we one of His?

And while I am layed

To rest in a

A patch of dead ground I shall

Begin to wonder just

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Too Blue


The Sky is Too Blue for me

Sometimes when I am lost in a fever

And the sky is too blue for me

The night is too dark and the day is too long

And freedom is not really free

The air is too clean to breathe freely

And I see everything too clear

The peace is too peaceful for comfort

I understand everything that I hear

There is more perfection in the music

Than there really ought to be

I have more love than a man should have

It’s all much too much for me

The children are no longer crying

The truth is always so true

The earth is productive and fertile

And the sky is much too blue

One day I will be leaving

To a place where I really am free

But the place where I am is so perfect

I am not sure it’s where I should be

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A touch of nastalgia with the actual belief in the perfection of the world

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(T. Beechey)

A long time ago,no longer than a year

Just the ebb and flow was all I had to hear

No intermittent rumbles passing here and there

I was satisfied and humbled to be anywhere

A long time ago,just a month or three

Faint ember glows were all I had to see

And what remained unclear was no consequence

Only what appeared made the perfect sense

It wasn't necessary to define or explain

And nobody grew wary,nor did they complain

The times were much better then instead of now

Tomorrow,we may get to return again somehow

A long time ago,or possibly last week

All I had to show only took a peek

And all that stayed unseen didn't take a second look

Just a glimpse in between was really all it took

A long time ago,or perhaps just yesterday

All I had to know I knew anyway

And that which was unknown didn't need understood

So I left it all alone and everything was good

Rationalizations weren't required,descriptions mattered less

We didn't find ourselves mired in games of hope and guess

The times,they seemed just right back in the days behind

Nothing now seems tight --- so tomorrow,let's rewind

A long time ago...or was it just a dream?

All around was so --- well,you know how it seemed

But then,perhaps,you don't and it's only me

In which case you won't know all that used to be

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(T. Beechey)

Just what is truth? A fanciful lie? Is that why it can't soothe each tear that I cry?
The revelation of fact before it is known: an unholy pact with the mystic unknown?
What is the pleasure that is found in pain? What price is treasure without any gain?
There's no reason or rhyme for such a curse...unless such a time is viewed in reverse

For sometimes lies can be the truth as seen through the eyes of wayward youth
Those who conspire and those which complain,who sit by the fire in the pouring rain
What is their dream? Who hears their plea? Doesn't it seem that once it was we
Who roamed the street so unaware of the rhythmic beat in the fragrant air?

Where are they from and where do they go? Why did we come and why don't we know?
Is there no answer? Are questions unheard? Perhaps now's our chance for a final word
Let's take a peek into what never was,just a moment to seek what within never does
Perhaps if we gazed in the reflecting glass,we'd be amazed at what images pass

For without the shadow or the disguise,we both truly look of our own eyes
It's anyone's guess but the clock on the wall says either confess or damned be us all

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Tis beautiful morning

Tis beautiful morning,

flowers blooming.

This message dawning,

wish a great Sunday coming! ;-)

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Composed on 17th July 2005, a Sunday. Sent via sms to iV.

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no difference

you know it wouldn’t make a difference if i fell from the earth today

because i’m sure nobody here would really care anyway

i’ve been fed all the truth, from the lies that you say

nothing can stop me from heading the wrong way

i could really care less about what you think

because it’s only me in this cell

and away i could swim but i choose to sink

it’s only me, all alone in this hell

there is nothing here for me now

what is there to look forward to?

only moments to look back on and regret

all these wrongs, i’ve tried to forget

it wouldn’t change a thing, if i just left it all

and went on my way, in the darkest fall

i’m sure nobody here would miss me

just silenced mouths that would try to convince me

but there’s no words to come out

because you don’t want me here anyway

you’ll never bleed the same colour i bleed

and you don’t want what i’ll always need

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"Pools"   7 - 2 - 05

i wish to move

but i cant

i wish to express

and only rant

i long to feel

but nothing's real

and i desire

to quickly expire

tearing a path

over the dirt

this moist salt

pats my shirt

and sobs are heard

only by walls

and desires are echoed

by hollow walls

once more i beg

for a reply

as the world dims

i stare with pool-eyes

the dim light bending

giving me hope

but it's rays only magnify

the steep, downward slope

hands meant for loving

now only console

as the pools drain

into a voidal hole

now numb and prepared

absolutely resolute

the heart fills with despair

and actions become acute....

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