pieces of a dream

this morning i woke up with only pieces of  a dream,
with this feeling of extacy that, what could this mean.
the very thought of that joy, that evades me doing day light,
slipped it way into my soul for only one night.
i still can feel the love in his tone, why did it only last until the dawn.
could it have be and angle for heaven above,
i not really certaing what i concieved was lust,

no love i've ever had, has made me feel that way.
only forbidden thoughts of love has ever led  me astray
this morning i woke up with only pieces of a dream

Tomorrow's Fight

Photos from posts

 Last Knight  i dreamed of his laughter and just as it turns  to tears it  leaves. then the Day Light  breezes in with and with it the memories of the face and smile that i percieved it could be, Evening  layed me down with the feeling of painful lost.  if only i could forget Shame. now his back again, and his Heart knows what I did, to make Tomorrow  wish to remain hide three Spaces, three faces, one Moment sacrificed  because of the Words whispered to the Thoughts of Knight just  as he   Begins His Fight. 

No Sad Good-Byes

NO SAD GOOD BYES                 

                

THERE MUST NOT BE ANY SAD MEMORIES

OR TEARS WITHIN YOUR EYES

NO CRYING, WISHING I WERE HERE

NO PAIN LOCKED DEEP INSIDE

THERE MUST NOT BE ANY SAD SONGS

NOR LONG SAD GOOD-BYES

NO LONGING FOR THE YESTERYEARS

TO KEEP ME HERE ALIVE

THERE MUST NOT BE ANY BLAME

WHEN I AM CALLED AWAY

FOR I GO TO A BETTER PLACE

TO WAIT FOR YOU SOME DAY

THESE THINGS I ASK OF YOU

IS MY FINAL WISH

REMEMBER ME WITH HAPPY THOUGHTS

AND I SHALL NOT BE MISSED

BONNIE GAIL ALLISON 9.1.1992

here's to memories

Here''s To The 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
 

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.

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

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