guilt

Fears

Why do I cry alone at night

With tears of joy or pain

Or tend to sigh in loneliness

Dress guilt just like a chain?

Why weigh myself with tension

And bank on fear and stress

When I could rise or fail myself

By giving it my best?

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

It was a loooonnnnngggg thought train away from Tears for Fears. 

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Conscious Mind

Guilty Conscious eating at you? Don't let it. Guilt is a good thing, it was designed so as to make us ever aware of our shortcomings and/or faults. Once you have acknowledged your sin and asked for forgiveness, you are forgiven... so let it go. Some people allow Satan to use that sin against them by turning guilt into condemnation. Do not give Satan the pleasure of torturing you, once again... once you acknowledge that sin that gave you a guilty conscience and ask for forgiveness, you are forgiven... Read this poem!

Conscious Mind

Fear not a conscience that brings forth guilt
For upon that conscience is salvation built
Guilt is merely acknowledgment of a life of sin
Guilt brings out the monster hiding within

Put not this guilt, or its pain aside
Confront and acknowledge those sins that do hide
For guilt brings repentance and a life anew
Confessing those sins will open a door for you

To ignore this guilt would be a mistake
So confront that guilt for heaven's sake
If your pride makes you put it away
It will be back to haunt you another day

All men sin and fall short of the glory of God
But woe unto him that gives guilt not even a nod
Go up to an alter and pour out your heart
Give God that guilt and in heaven take part

By: Wayne Hoss

Author's Notes/Comments: 

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Friendship

A bittersweet feel,

Loneliness at best.

 

You feed me attention,

When it suits you most.

 

Once adressed,

Messages are left ignored,

And yet you boast.

 

With a want for attention,

You come to me in tears.

 

I appease,

For only you to confirm my fears.

 

A cycle it seems,

You want and I please.

A ridicoulous thought,

As if I,

Could perhaps ask for you to appreciate,
To not face me with willful lies.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

No one's to keen on my poems anyways

 

Sense of Guilt

Great he really is,


Who has the sense of guilt in his,


Heart as had Jim of Lord Jim,


The man who used to daydream.


 

Half of the sin is gone,


If feels sorry one,


And dares to face reality,


Saved he is ultimately.


 

Living like a coward is akin to demise,


Let your conscience speak, let it rise.

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Love's Puppet Show

 

My solitary justification for loving you was convincing myself I could actually survive in the secret fantasy world we had invented,

 

whispering dreams of grand escapes between sips of sweet wine and committing to memory the soft outline of your smile as we kissed,

 

Melting anxieties of the harsh world outside (that very same one waiting patiently on our doorstep) 

 

Naively ignoring that I was clutching to you with white knuckles and my grip was ever slipping,

 

Trying desperately to hold tightly to someone I knew I could never fully have; forever swinging perilously over a frothy, churning sea of jealousy

 

Yet when you held me, the raging storm fell mute; a faulty sense of clarity befell star crossed eyes bearing rose flushed glasses,

 

and in that frozen frame of time, I truly believed you were the only salve to mend open wounds and repair the damage inflicted by those before you,

 

 

No lofty commitments to doubt,
no heavy promises to halt this deadly dance we gladly swayed in time to,

 

just a pair of damaged humans with deep tears in their stuffing;
pasting patches forged from a strangers comfort over fractured souls in hope of healing,

 

Trembling fingers weaving taut stitching of raw, pink scars,

pulling together two broken lives and blindly believing it would hold.
"

G. Bosquez
3/20/2015

King Henry

Folder: 
Forgiving
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KING HENRY


"England shall double gild his treble guilt"

says King Henry to Harry.in a Shakespeare play.

Still today as the eviction

of seacreatures from their shells

is covered by incoming tides

so the past errors of the rich

plutocracy hides


-saiom shriver-

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Why?

Why am I not good enough?

What did I do wrong?

Why am I not good enough?

Why must I be alone for so damned long?

Why am I not good enough?

Why am I not worth enough to try?

Why am I not good enough?

My wings will never fly.

Why am I not good enough?

What harm did I ever do to you?

Why am I not good enough?

Why must my dreams be so few?

Why am I not good enough?

Why must I do all this crying?

Why am I not good enough,

 To do anything but slowly dying?

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Do Not

Please don't tell me that you will only ever associate me with guilt

That this is a feeling determined to latch on to you and never let go

Do not turn my fingertips into red hot steel that forces you to flinch when I touch you

Do not let my eyes morph into black holes in front of yours, making you look away

 

Do not squirm and writhe in my presence like your stomach must every time you see me

Do not hold on to that pang in your heart that appears when we talk

Do not play down the warmth of my embrace so much that I am stone cold up against you

Do not imagine me as your enemy to make it easier to turn your back on me

 

And do not let my memory become the subtlest bloom of happiness in a vast forest of remorse

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Losing it

It was a warm summer night, my first time in a fortune country

the perfect time for firsts

it was my first time experiencing the green and when I inhaled, a thick nasty taste snaked down my throat

one coughing fit later and I was somewhere else entirely

me, a depressed young woman, I had never been so happy

Him and 2 others took me for a ride around town

convertible, black top down

wind wipping through my hair hands up in the air

music blasting

I was out with three guys all on my own

by the time we were back home it was 2 am and I was lost feeling droopy and down

he took me to my room and I lay there staring up into the darkness wondering how long this would last

my clothes were peeled from my sticky skin slowly

kisses planted wherever my skin was emptied

me

the sober me would have said stop

me

the sober me would have said no

but I let him kiss and caress and touch my sticky chocolate brown thigh

and eventually his hands, his lips, his tongue rolled inside

then something else entirely

and after that searing flash of pain was a pleasure so good I just knew in that moment  it had to be sinful

I gasped and squirmed and pushed away

he came to my face planting a sloppy kiss on my mouth

it had a terrible bitter taste

"what's the matter  baby?"

he asked and an evil smile snaked over his face

terrified from my state

under the influence from that thick cloudy smoke

I curled up into the fetal position and let out a blood curdling scream.

I'd just lost it...

 

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