Sunday, June 2, 2013

here's to memories

Friday, April 29, 2011

Here’s to the memories

Here’s to the memories
Some good, some bad
Here’s to the memories
Of loves we never had
Here’s to the good times
Of memories left in the dark
Here’s to the bad times
Of memories that left there marks
Here’s to you, here’s to me
                                                    Here’s to all we thought we would be

momma


MOMMA YOU HEARD ME CRYING LAST NIGHT WHILE I LAY IN MY BED
I HEARD NO WORDS OF COMFORT ONLY SILENCE INSTEAD
MOMMA HOW OLD WILL I HAVE TO BE BEFORE YOU’LL LISTEN TO ME
MOMMA WHEN WILL YOU OPEN YOUR EYES, AND FINALLY REALIZE……THE PAIN I AM IN
IT’S NOT SOMETHING THAT WILL GO AWAY
I LIVE WITH THIS FEELING EVERY DAY
MOMMA HOW MANY TIMES WILL YOU TURN YOUR HEAD AND JUST LOOK THE OTHER WAY
PRETENDING THAT NOTHING CHANGED, THAT I’M THE SAME
NO MATTER WHAT I SAY
MOMMA HOW MANY TEARS WILL I HAVE TO SHED
BEFORE YOU WILL LIFT YOUR HEAD,
AND ACKNOWLEDGE THE PAIN I FEEL
WILL YOU WAIT…………..UNTIL IT’S TOO LATE
WHEN MY BODY LAY COLD AND STILL
MOMMA YOU SAY THAT I’M TO YOUNG TO FEEL THE WAY I DO
HOW OLD DO YOU HAVE TO BE FOR YOUR HEART TO BREAK INTO
MOMMA HOW OLD DO I HAVE TO BE
BEFORE YOU TAKE ME SERIOUSLY
MOMMA THE PAIN HAS BECOME TO GREAT
THIS SUFFERING I CAN NO LONGER TAKE
THE ONLY ANSWER THAT I COULD FIND
WAS TO LEAVE THIS COLD WORLD OF MIND
MOMMA EVERY TIME I TRIED TO TALK TO YOU, YOU SAID WAIT UNTIL YOU’RE BIGGER
I KNOW NOW HOW TO STOP THE PAIN
I JUST PULL THE TRIGGER
MOMMA TELL THE OTHERS GOODBYE
AND MOMMA PLEASE TRY NOT TO CRY
THE PAIN DID LEAVE TODAY
AND TO THINK ALL IT TOOK WAS FOR YOU TO TURN AWAY
 

Sunday, December 2, 2012

time less thoughts


Some times in life you will come to a place that is so unfamiliar, so uncomfortable, to memories it’s a dreadful place filled with misery, to a life that’s ended it’s never at peace. To a restless Soul that was sold for gold to change a straw man’s destiny and in exchange it returns agony. For what Breath took in as Truth, Toughs repeats as deceit. From what Eye's saw as Friend, Ears hears only voices of Enemies.  Often Thought   contemplates on Action’s past mistakes, and reason withholds the knowledge of what purpose buried inside of us. It’s not until we’re at this place that hate has power enough to replace our Trials for Lessons, and our Sins with Blessings. But only if we let the Darkness night becomes our brightest day.  Count our fleeing monuments as if time doesn’t own shit. Fill those empty spaces with joy filled faces. Invoke the reflection in the Mirror to reveal the One that was Deor[1]to us.



[1] Deor" (or "The Lament of Deor") is an Old English poem found in the late 10th century collection[1] the Exeter Book

Friday, November 23, 2012

money can deceive it self to believe that a part of it, it does not need. And by doing so that which remains begins to wonder about the CHANGE

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

A I don't O U (aeiou)



I am what's  left from the lesser  heart of lose or shall i say Lou's. Even claiming this fact has made me still choose the only soul a empty hole will ever know as  the first Lie that was really True. "It must Be Nice lyfe       still my sinless sin wonders why it is still the season for desire. I was the one whom led Death to Decieve, "And he did accomplish this for I had put it upon his soul to do so."  And to Seers of this bY- O Life was so very amazed when it was He (Death) that sinful sin saved " A, i don't Owe You  hopefuly both will always know it  for meandyou

Monday, August 29, 2011

CHANGE

money can deceive it self to believe that a part of it, it does not need. And by doing so that which remains begins to wonder about the CHANGE

THE BATTLE


WHEN YAHWEH SPOKE TO ME, WHEN I SAW HIS NAME SPELLED OUT IN BLOOD,THE POUNDING IN MY HEART SEPARATED BLOOD FROM INK AND INK FROM BLOOD,AND YAHWEH SAID TO ME "KNOW YOUR SOUL'S NAME IS BLOOD AND INK IS THE NAME OF YOUR SPIRIT. YOUR FATHER AND MOTHER LONGED WITH ALL THEIR HEARTS TO HERE YOUR MY NAME AND THE TITLE GIVEN TO EVERY GENERATION." WHEN I HEARD THE CLEAR DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MY SPIRIT AND MY SOUL, I WAS FILLED WITH GREAT JOY,THEN I KNEW MY SOUL TOOK THE HILLSIDE UNDER ITS OWN COLORS; IN THE MIRROR RED AS BLOOD,AND THAT MY SPIRIT STOOD ITS GROUND IN THE MIRROR THAT IS BLACK AS INK, AND THAT THERE RAGED A FEROCIOUS WAR IN MY HEART BETWEEN BLOOD AND INK.THE BLOOD WAS OF THE AIR AND THE INK OF THE EARTH AND THE INK DEFEATED THE BLOOD.AND THE SABBATH OVERCAME ALL THE DAYS OF THE WEEK. {ABRAHAM ABULAFIA C.1250}PicturePerfect.com


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FLOWERS ON TOP OF ME

YOU GAVE ME FLOWERS TO SURROUND MY THORNE YOU BETRAYED ME AND PLACE ME IN A GRAVE NOT OF MY OWN YOU THOUG...