[x]

Homosexuality BitesThey found me slumped over in the school showers
With a towel loosely wrapped around my waist
Scalding hot water was blistering my skin
As I bled from an unspeakable place

A hard-handed teacher dragged me to my feet
With little or no sign of sympathy
For the bruising to my feeble framed ribcage
And the fractures to my identity

I think they all thought that I had it coming
As no one was willing to testify
That the sodomy inflicted upon me
Was something to which I hadn’t complied

Boisterous boys laughing in the corridors
As I shamefully limped throughout the day
Not a thought for the pain that was inflicted
Just worried for what my pa

I Am a WriterI am a writer.
Yes, it’s easy for me to fall into a dream.
But there is nothing wrong with being tighter
With a story’s theme.

I am a writer.
That is all I will ever want to be
In the end, my story will be lighter,
And my characters will finally be free.

I am a writer.
There is nothing easier to say than that.
I will never let a story wither
Nor let a story fall flat

I am a soon to be author.
With several books ready to be read,
I want them to have great honor
And wish there will be tears shed.

Pieces of chessKings and pawns are all the same
All but pieces in a game
A stroke of luck
A touch of ill fate
Decides in the end who will be
Checkmate

*Mask*Tonight hearts will beat
Identities are concealed
When we masquerade.

Familiar voices
Behind flamboyant disguise
Recognize those eyes.

2013 Delice1941
13th April2013

Take Death's HandI do not fear Death.
My life has been long enough.
It's time I take my last breath.
I shall not rebuff.
Death stands by my side,
his hand extended for me to take.
His face is veiled like that of a bride.
This life I now forsake
as Death takes me away.
I do not regret
for I am free of the fray.
Please do not fret
for I am okay.

~Evil creatures~

They're evil creatures in the night
Lurking in the shadows but still seeing there sight
From they're pale skin and glowing eyes
Out there graves they will rise
Moaning and groaning is what you hear
Your body will soon fill with fear

They walk or run in a fast pace
Here they come for the chase
Get ready for the fear
Coming through the door they are here
Board up the windows to keep them away
This is the place you don't want to stay

It's too late now they're breaking in
It's a fight you may not win
Grab you shotgun prepare for the fight
This battle may last all night
Pain and blood come from your arm
A bite from these creatures can cause muc

AveryHis veins are filled with music and with stars.
His thoughts are filled with emptiness and flow.
His voice is made of dusty old guitars.
His mind’s a rusty cog that clanks below.
And these affects and gifts with which he’s blessed –
Or cursed, as alternately it may be –
Are some well-known and some yet unaddressed,
And they determine all that he must see.
But when his veins must open up and burst
And when his thoughts in dark directions fly,
When all his voice can do is preach the worst,
When all his mind can think to do is die –
It gives him pause to check himself and breathe.
May he stay in this world and never

All AloneI'm sitting in my four walled room
Their closing in, like an ancient tomb
I feel like I'm wasting time for two
When all I want is me and you

Who Was HeHe stood at the average height for men.
His built was quite average.
His eyes were that of cyan.
Nonetheless, he was average.

His hair was that of blonde,
Nearly, white.
His walk and personality had a great bond.
He was a confident sight.

His skin was a delicate peach.
His muscles were quite firm.
So irresistible, a teasing reach.
His appearance had its own term.

One that the dictionary cannot confirm.

Who was he?
That man with his own sea?
He was one without a name.
His appearance was a taunting game.
He was one without a number for an age.
Forget it, he’s fake on this page.

SuicideThere's no blood on her hands
Bullet holes in the door
Nothing but colored pills
And her lying on the floor

You look at her face
There's despair in her eyes
And you wonder what she thought
As she fell and died

And maybe you're begging her to come back
And maybe you're asking why she let go
The hurt in your chest feels like a heart attack
And now you finally know

Maybe you could've helped her
If you'd looked past your own nose
Maybe she'd be alive now
You had a chance, this is what you chose
Now maybe you'll learn from things
That you didn't see
Maybe you'll open your eyes
And rescue him, or her, or me
Maybe she cried a prayer
For the oth

You never chose the middle pathYou never chose the middle path, the place
of careful, safe and unremarkable,
the sky at 10 am, the camp at base,
the decaf paper cup unbreakable.

You had to go with high and low and real,
with rich and fast and things more notable:
the sky at midnight, Himalayan-feel,
the oxygen and you, unstoppable.

But then your weight became too much for skies.
Your melamine became a china cup.
And those who cried moved on to lesser highs.
They look ahead, or down, but never up.

You never chose the middle path, you raced.
I’m looking up, and pray that speed is graced.

One WindowOne window is all I need
To see the world for what it truly is
With my mind a system of creed.
My talent can depict or dismiss
This world of goals, so hear my heed.

I sit down beside a journal,
My fingers clutching a pencil.
I will make my character’s life spiral
And send them off to a council
Where they must advance through the next trial.

One window is all I need
To watch them afar a long, hazy field,
Where I can study their speed
Of understanding when they will yield
Of life, itself, so they need to hear my heed.

My character’s goal,
As well as mine,
Is to be whole
And see how bright life can shine
Even through the darkness

Last RoadTwo people, both alike in personality,
Shared a home where the scene was played,
From shattered souls to new beginnings,
Where screams were heard on this doomsday.
From golden moons crisp as the sun,
A mother who has not yet won,
The illness will strive until the deed is done,
Even if the daughter has not begun.
The road that lies ahead,
Is now a mother who is dead,
With hugs and kisses that are gone,
The daughter who will beat them all;
Thy which your eyes and ears can pretend,
What here shall be a transformation undid.

SomedaySomeday all this work
That I have nearly mastered for years
Will be recognized and will lurk
Between the pieces that my talent fears.

Someday I will look upon a shelf
And see the story of my child,
A character that is true to thyself,
And their plot can then be finally compiled

Someday I will have a fan base
That will love me even through my faults
And have a beaming smile upon their face
Mostly during the greatest results.

Someday I will be an author,
One with a great metaphor.

'The Thing''The Thing'
The thing that's so strong
no one can get rid of it.
The thing that takes millions
especially the innocent.
What rages on,
poisoning anyone that gets a hold of it.
What is this thing?
I can't even say
the name of the object
that takes loved ones away.
It lures beautiful people in,
and tears them apart.
So after that,
they will wish they had never start.
The Thing's only purpose
is to attack.
Whether it goes to innocent or evil,
it will never go back.
So heed my words
and stay away from 'The Thing'
because once it takes your soul,
you won't be here,
so your story will never be told.

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The Mullet The Mullet Run
The air and sea have made a deal to soothe the sweet Pacific.
Awareness is everywhere… in the rain drops, on the dripping foliage of the wattle trees and in the memory of the soft shelled crab awaiting his new carapace.
Awareness is everywhere and becomes tangible. There is the scent of the wet burnt eucalypts hanging in the air…hanging like that dream I fai

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Submitted: December 4, 2010
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Rain Upon The Sea

by ~brunette-from-oz, Dec 4, 2010, 2:14:52 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

        Rain Upon The Sea.

Oh, this day, with music sweet
    of rain upon the sea.
That softest grey, in essence there
    with all its memories.

Standing at the edge of seas
    Waves beneath my feet,
Staring up, to find its home
    the rain caressed my cheek.

A flirting rain, I must have thought
    that comes and goes with ease
Best while it's there, I'll cherish it
     my rain upon the sea.

I remember well the taste
    as it trickled down my cheek,
And how I thought of finer things
    while others thought it bleak.

I watched each wave caressed and kissed
      not even unlike me
And how each wave in pure delight
     bound ashore in ecstasy.

But like those things that cannot last
  It's forgotten beneath the sun
Its only hint of being there
   are memories, deep in one.

How fresh I feel, yes new again
     when ever there should be
a chance I should be standing
     in the rain along the sea.

Rain Upon The Seaby ~brunette-from-oz

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

Please respect the fact that my work is my property.

~Sarah-the-writer Jan 6, 2011

This is beautiful! I love the good feeling I get from reading it

~HeAndHisCow Dec 11, 2010 Student Digital Artist

I felt a jolt of inspiration after reading that. Thank you.

~brunette-from-oz Dec 12, 2010 General Artist

*RainySkyz Dec 5, 2010

Sorry, meant "upon". It's been "along" day, maybe that's why.

Spoilt my own words though. Oh well. Liked your poem.

~brunette-from-oz Dec 5, 2010 General Artist

Thank you Claudia. I love the rain on the seashore. When you taste it on your face it seems like tears because the salt gets in the rain.

*RainySkyz Dec 5, 2010

I never noticed that before. Really interesting. I'll keep it in mind the next time I'm lucky enough to be at the ocean and when it rains. I enjoy the sunny beach, however my favorite is when it rains, especially because the beach is usually deserted -- very few seem to love cloudy, rainy, chilly beaches.

~brunette-from-oz Dec 5, 2010 General Artist

I never see anyone on my beaches. This summer I am going to try and find people to photograph!

*RainySkyz Dec 5, 2010

I understand your poem completely. Rain along the sea would be a large slice of heaven for me. As long as it is the sky that cries, and not mine own eyes.

~cobrastarfan123 Dec 4, 2010

i've always wanted to go to the beach when it was raining

~brunette-from-oz Dec 4, 2010 General Artist

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Rain Upon The Sea

Rain Upon The Seaby ~brunette-from-oz

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