sorrow

I Walk An Endless Road

I walk endless an road

locked into a heavy load

Of these questions and fears

Gripping from it's unreasonable tears

 

As a car roars by

I look dead into it's light

Wondering where it leads

But just like that it's gone

just like another day

As I wake up to the sun's harsh light

 

I try not to look back

As I attempt to fill this crack

Of this hurt and wonder

Unstoppable, a storm of rain and thunder

 

As a car roars by

I look dead into it's light

Wondering where it leads

But just like that it's gone

just like another night

As I stay up to the moon's hypnotic might

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..

Flame

Folder: 
Stories

                 Jenny Jenkins, cute little girl, but she has had a tough life. Far worse than other lives, she never knew of a thing above poverty. T'is late December, and here she sits shivering next to two stone blocks trying to warm herself with a single, small, thin match stick. Of course to no avail, as her eyes stare at the flame, the match reaches the end of itself, leaving a little burn on her finger. She can't feel it though, she lost her sense of touch about an hour ago. All four limbs numb, heat leaving her body, she starts to feel sleepy. She slumps onto one of the stone blocks, resting her head under some writing. Curious, she tries to read what it says. "Here lies Miriam..." and with that, Jenny's eyes glazed over. Her eyes meeting my own. Her tiny, fragile flame had been extinguished. Little did she know, the two stone blocks were tombstones that read " Here lies Miriam and David Jenkins". As I watched this happen, I couldn't help but feel saddened. Normally I watch deaths happen, visit the poor souls, and continue with my job, but it's always harder with children. I visited her parents, now I've visited her. Well, let's see who's next on the list. Damn, another kid....

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Ok, so all of my poetry is posted so I figured I should put up my stories. This, and others which I will post on here, are in the persona of Death or the Grim Reaper watching these people die, and he keeps a sort of journal explaining what happened to them. And when they finally do kick the bucket, they see him because it is their time to go, but to other people it just looks like their eyes have glazed over and they have died. That's what I meant by "Her eyes meeting my own." And as always, criticism of any kind are welcome and appreciated.

View eebee's Full Portfolio

Underwater Trying Not To Drown

Sorrow filling my lungs

Choking on the tears

Crushing my heart

But I’ve never felt so alive

Underwater Trying Not To Drown

Cinders to ash, ash to smoke

My soul caught on the breeze

And left this empty corpse behind

Far behind and not looking back

 

Why can’t we go back to who we once were?

Dwelving Deep

Welcoming the night.
Reminding me of my blight.
The fight is useless.
Haunting me at rest.
Feels like a test.
That I just can't pass.
It wrecks my soul.
And I know.
That attempts to move on.
Only deceive myself.
I'd never wish to remember lesser.
The thoughts continue to fester.
Warping and shaping what I am.
Pictures of a wonderful gem.
Forgetting would never be a choice.
Don't want to forget the voice.
Nothing more that I wish.
Than to relive what I miss.
And although my decisions leave me in strife.
I continue on for the sake of my life.

The Mission Beyond

 

 

..........

 

(photo from lightworkers.org)

 

 

he feels dejected,

grim, down-in-the-mouth,

mirthless, mournful, 

moody and droopy,

dragged, trite,

and nothing is right, 

anguished, forlorn,

woeful in the depths of despair.

 

he tries to think 

of sweetest memories,

but as he casts his 

grappling hook to 

secure his ascent

over the walls he's built,

the rope becomes 

frayed and breaks.

 

the weight of his 

guilt has grown too 

ponderous, and his

spine too soft to

bear the rigors 

of the climb that he

now sees he must 

journey on his own.

 

sinking deeper into

his abyss he struggles 

to remember something 

other than this limbo

of darkness and dread,

the disbelief of this reality

he fails again and again

to overcome, and desperation sets in.

 

clinging to old feelings,

and the desire for a love 

long gone, he withers

in a sea of hopelessness,

and every good memory

takes him back to the 

bottom of this wallowing 

pit of sorrow and pain.

 

people pass by,

some with compassionate

flurries of empathy

that quickly ferment to feed 

the destruction of any 

aspirations for change,

and the nature of his misery

flourishes unto his bitter end.

 

he thought she was his world,

and now she's gone,

moved on to another dimension

on the wings of a dove,

to blaze new trails without him,

but his mind cannot accept

that was the whole purpose of 

their meeting in this life.

 

she came to prepare him

for this dark night of the soul,

and his task is to overcome it,

he listens for her voice

to soothe him as it did before,

and the scorching fires of 

truth that strip his soul naked

have left him angry and inflexible.

 

and when he sleeps, 

she watches 

through timeless portals,

the man she left behind, 

and wonders 

if he'll ever pass

the test 

of this lifetime.

 

he doesn't seem 

to understand her whispers in the dark,

he only understands the love they had so long ago,

he's trapped in something 

only he can bring unto an end,

or wander in his denial, his heart never to mend,

for unbeknownst to him this lifetime is his only chance

for them to ever have another lifetime in this dance.

 

 

11:41 PM 8/7/2013  ©

 

..............

no regrets

 

............




who cares if there 

are flowers on my corpse 

if I'm dead?


if love is your intent

then bring me

some good memories

and things you learned 

to make your life easier

and more worth living.


wrap it up in a rusted coffee can

from some dark alley where babies lie in dumpsters

and place it somewhere all can see and be comforted

that someone thought about them, and cared

about why their lives ended, and tried to understand

not to punish, but to prevent it.

 

give me life in my death,

and not sorrow for

what you forgot to do

or not do, to prevent 

yourself from being hurt

on the day I leave here.


funerals are for the ones who are left here,

because the only thing I intend 

to leave you after material possessions

are divied out,

is the same thing since the day 

I first looked in your eyes,


the gratitude for having shared moments together.


we have all been dying since the day we were born,

and if we arrive at our final resting place in peace,

and not at the hands of violence,

then we have been granted more than enough

to say we have been blessed.

I spend my days now thinking what a beautiful soul you are.






 

5:35 PM 8/4/2013 ©


inspired by http://www.postpoems.org/authors/huliganfish/poem/964713

..............


...........

Latent Prince

 

 

..............

 

Part I of II

 

 

This is the story of Larry Joe Prince

And the way Arizona stole his innocence.

It is written with hope that there may come a day

When a wise judge will grant him his moment to say

All the things so conveniently left out of court,

Made American “justice” look more like a sport,

With a high-priced attorney that didn’t think clear,

And the false testimony of one with much fear,

And the state prosecute thought “I’ll surely reach fame”,

He said, “Hell, I don’t care who the state wants to blame,

It’s a paycheck to me; I don’t care about truths,

It’s my ego I feed, I’m a low lying sleuth!!”

 

So they all drew their “guns” on that guy Mr. Prince,

Absolutely no shred of secure evidence,

They proceeded to send him to death row to sit,

For the murder of one that he did not commit,

And the biggest and worst sin of all that was done,

Was the way that the people held on to their “guns”,

They embraced all the lies to evade what was clear,

As revenge prevailed justice with each little tear,

And for those in the grave who just watch from above,

With no longer a voice to teach them that real love,

Is not proven by putting the blame on a man,

Just because he is there….cause the courts and you can,

 

See the proof of one’s love speaks out so very clear,

Even after the grave when one’s body’s not here,

You will hear their soul cry, and you’ll then know for sure,

If they’re resting in peace or they’re haunted some more.

 

There are families that hide from life’s reality,

The dead man in this case begs you hear his soul’s plea,

Make amends for the errors you’ve made in the past,

And put down all those stones, and those already cast,

If this dead man could speak he’d have something to say,

Of the circus that ran through the courtroom that day,

And if not for the dead man then do it for you,

Cause we all have to answer to God what is true,

Larry Prince knows he’s clear and he wins either way,

                              Cause he’s INNOCENT judge, the state’s in disarray.                                

So please read all with care on this day we implore,

Please don’t look at this life as a game where you score,

It’s integrity that is of stake in this court,

And it’s not mine or yours it’s this country’s that’s short

Of a quality no longer active today,

If it dies, it’s the lives of our loved one’s…they’ll pay.

Take your time, read it all, and be true to your heart,

And we’ll all pray it’s not too late for a new start.

 

 

Part II of II

 

 

They all loved cocaine but they hid it from Dad,

He just couldn’t believe that his kids could be “bad”,

So his eyes he did close, and they stayed tightly shut,

While his best offspring died with that stuff in his gut,

And they said, “It was murder”, and placed the blame there,

Yes, it’s true ‘bout that bullet and blood in his hair,

And the roots of that crime have been hidden so well,

By the real guilty ones with the lies they did tell,

For those self-righteous ones that just stared and stood by,

And condoned this deceit without batting an eye,

For the cowards that watched as the killers went free,

Be aware this could happen to you or to me,

And your sons or your daughters could one day be led

To a place where they wish they would rather be dead,

So now don’t be afraid to let truths in your ears

When your children are hurting with eyes full of tears,

Don’t you cower or shudder, don’t whine and don’t wince,

And remember the story of Larry Joe Prince.

 

Written in parts, from 2000-2002

Original Copyright 2002 

Registration Number / Date:

                   TXu001112792 / 2002-12-02

 

..................

 

07/21/13 ©

 

*

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The story of how justice can go awry when emotions rule instead of justice ruling.

 

http://www.postpoems.org/authors/nightlight1220/prose/953553

 

...........

Too Bad

I speak my mind.

Don't like it?

 

Too bad.

 

I bear you my soul.

Don't like it?

 

Too bad.

 

I believe that all beings and 

life forms are all the same, 

and different, 

at the same time, 

and that we are slowly losing 

our connection to this concept 

as a species, and it is destroying us.

Don't like it?

 

Too bad.

 

I believe there is a sanctity 

that lies within each individual,

every animal,

every life form.

Don't like it?

 

Too bad.

 

Don't like my

style of self-expression?

My authenticity?

My 'attitude'?

My disgust with closed-minded people?

My honesty?

My truth?

 

It's just plain too bad.

I love yours, and I hope 

one day we can meet halfway.

 

 

4:20 PM 6/28/2013

 

 

©

 

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zIW8qDPhos

 

 

.........

Author's Notes/Comments: 

"too bad"