A Collection of Poems for You and Me to Read Together...

EnjOy

The Love Cycle

..Solitude..
I am outside, waiting all alone.
Waiting for the sun, these parched eyes long…
to be quenched, by the everlasting strength of the sun,
the rising, the epic finale.
..Mutuality..
Meanwhile…
Keep me safe in your arms, like towers
and lost princesses, keep me safe.
Forever…
For my love for you is pure, I’ll prove to you it’s not forged.
But first I need your trust; you’re not ready to give it yet…
..Reunion..
Because we are broken,
We need a new start.
Refresh our innocence, all the promise we adored.
I am lost…
Keep me going….
Your arms like towers, keep me safe.
Phucking Phail </3..

The Wheel
Strength, unity, revolution…
Of the wheel.
A flock of minds merge,
Their forces combine,
to become recognised,
to push themselves,
from a minority
to a majority.
That is revolution.
Phucking Phail </3..

Imminence and Eventuality
And there he had it, lodged into his vertebrae, the cold steel paralyses his muscles as he howls in pain, each grimace casting even further into the epitaph his back was to be.
Everything’s imminent, as it is eventual, it’s just dependent on what it is that is imminent or eventual.
Have a nice day.
Phucking Phail </3..


…Imprisonment…

Steel, cold, harsh, sparkling.
Against my broken, sore skin.
Shivers…right through the spine,
through the mind like a blade of ice, as I stare…
at infinite silver, daring, eloquent.
For this is imprisonment.
Phucking Phail </3..

…Sensuality..//..

Be it, or be it not?/
The Five Senses: Smell, sight, hearing, taste, touch,
or merely the rush
of emotional caring, for
that Special One, the one you call…
Your Own.
Phucking Phail </3..


Blur
I look at you…
Your eyes stare into the distance,
right through me…
Am I the one you want?
If so, then why do your looks fade?
Like the signal on a television,
until reduced to the monotonous static.
Like your feelings of love for me…
What once was clear is now blurred…
Do you really want to be a part of that?
I know I don’t.
Phucking Phail </3..

Looking at myself in the mirror I realise,
Reality is merely a figment of YOUR imagination, tailored by your imagination to fit your needs.

Phucking Phail </3..

Genesis – The Evil Version

In the Land of Desire,
Their hearts filled with fire,
Were the hopes for the Human Race.

Adam…
Eve…
Eww…

Watching them live the lie,
Believing He (‘God’) is SO Mighty and High.
I sat there in disgust, thinking, urging…

Yet they could be living THE life,
If they just set themselves free…
I sighed and rested on the Forbidden Tree.
However there’s no Rest for the Wicked.

!!

That was it!
The Tree was the answer!
Make the Humans the culprit,
They get exiled, I get rewarded,
Possibly a promotion!
The Closer to ‘God’, the easier it would be to usurp him!
Exsssssellent…

There she was. It was the perfect time.
She was all alone, ready for the taking,
As the Fruit was ripe for the picking.

Hung over her shoulder, she merely wondered at me.
‘God’ had not warned her about me?
The old man must be losing it,
or maybe I was better than him now…

Anyway she was easy to sway from ‘God’s’ brainwashing,
Threw in a hint about being as clever as ‘God’.
Works a treat.
And like the poison of a snake, the sin quickly spread to Adam.
KABLAM! Oh they were going to get it now!

I sat back waiting for the Grand Finale,
‘God’ was very quick off the mark,
Only 1 minute after they had the fruit.
Not Bad…

Then he drew his trick from his sleeve,
Dirty player…
He only went and banished me as well,
throwing me to Hell!
The Cheek!


However as we freefall to our impending doom,
I realise that in fact, this is better,
than ANY promotion in Heaven.

Phucking Phail </3


I’m Fading away.
(It Drips…)
As the night goes on…
I’m Slipping away
(It Flows…)
I finally open my eyes,
But I can’t see because,
I’m blinded by the bathroom’s White Light.
(It Pours…)
So as I lay here on my crimson-streaked floor,
watching my Final Sunrise, I ask myself…
“Why am I even here anymore?”
And decide to raise the blade for the final time…
(It CASCADES…)
Ribbons of blood ensnare my arms and my neck.
Now I don liquid, red wristbands with a choker to match.
Fading away on my crimson canvas, the painting is nearly complete…
A few more drops should do it…
Drip…
…Drip…
…..Drip……
(It Stops…)
Dead.
Phucking Phail </3

Poem by Aerin.

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