Tuesday, April 23, 2013

The Ground That Holds A Million Tears

Pieces of a memory
way down here
on the ground below
that holds a million tears

Shattered heart and soul
mended together still
but it takes a toll
holding together
with a pill
Managing to scrape
at the bottom of the barrel
even better standards still
cherry picking, like a hunt

Even though there are the runts
being pushed around
or, being pushed down
I don't know anymore

It's a game; to keep score
surviving with the petals
when problems are ignored
and pacified to settle

Boiling like a kettle
of secrets underneath
though hidden in a sheath
so hidden in a sheath..


April 23rd, 2013

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Thursday, April 18, 2013

I Must Pace

Try… you do try
to grip my soul
and with a pole
hooking; on my shirt

I'm covered in dirt
and I am bewildered
like Virginia Woolf
walking into a lake

But I stop
and have a shake...
for my hypoglycemic metabolism
does cause me to bake

In shattered agony
because I am not free
and I am so belittled
and my head’s full of riddles
in which I try to solve
in which I must evolve
because I am evolved
but born prematurely
into this place
it’s not ready for me...
treating me like a disgrace
In time, it is paced
but, I am impatient
and I can't be a patient
of drugs, that’s right, Rx
though I may drink Vex
not sensible
but sadly pensive
and I am
blind
in the rain

And yes, I do blame
an overactive brain
so I’ll shut out everything
or ramble in a train of things
or think of all the names of things …

Blah blah blah blah blah
in space
this is not a race
I must pace.


April 18th, 2013

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Fight for Bliss

Money, money, money
makes the world go 'round
funny, funny, funny,
how it keeps us bound

Trapped at the bottom
screaming to get up
there is no hand reaching out
without an invoice; tough

Tough, they say, if there aint' nothing
in your pocket
keep on trucking
or does one even have a truck?
or is one twisted and stuck; in the muck


The muddy pool of dirt and grime
due to the slime-bags
of the time
they feel nothing
they feel nil
they don't care
if you have a chill

People walking barefoot
chattering teeth
underneath
in the underworld so deep

Can't get out
not without a dime
must figure out a rhyme
to build the dimes

Allocate, maybe
like a rubix cube
to get out of the hole somehow
to crawl out through the tube

Narrow and icky
like a sewer hole
it does take a toll
crawling through, weak and injured

Like a soldier in the trenches...
and there ain’t no benches
so why not ask the "vermin"?
they might tell you clever tricks

For it’s how they dodge their foes
and scavengers don't buy their mix
however, they don't steal it either
they're programmed to survive
to hold on; climbing higher and higher
They grab scraps
save dimes in a hard drive

Plan it out like a map
pack your backpack
for the ride

Like reverse entrapment
like solving a riddle
of the rigged, oppressive pyramid
for in which many are little

So pay with the dimes
collected with mass effort
and make it so rhyme
with things one can do for free

Somehow, amongst the abyss
and one day in time
we will no longer miss
out on a chance at bliss


April 18th, 2013

You can get all PDFs at http://www.girloutside.org/booksall/ (PDF layout is better honed than the blog format)

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

The Fire Gleams On

The sun shines upon
the fire gleams on
far away in space
like spades and one ace

Tis not the human race
responsible for the light
through the dull
there is bright

Somewhere in the hole
there must be a soul
waiting by the day
to show it the way

I say it...and not we
loving, and needing free
we have to break the chains
albeit the deranged

We have to rearrange
from atop each rolling hill
it's not a fire drill
it's not a movie thrill

It's the real imposed threat
amongst the dark grey jets
spraying chemicals afar
killing oxygen, making tar

While we look up, to the stars
oh help them see the patterns
as we sing, from our caverns

Great minds hidden and shunned
or made to run and run
away to an abyss
those in the dark have missed

The love that shows the way
and so they must pay
and they don't even know it
pocket-picked, and unheroic
in the sweltering of a stoic
and magma; heatwave

Til a few who are brave
will stand as we crave
indomitable "I must"
amongst the wind gusts

So hard they blow us over
but faith, we must hang on
continuing the song
of justice, all the way

To the end of the storm
though blankets, soft and warm
can cover the heads
of the spiritually dead

Whom are blinded from the truth
while pretending to be couth
we see through it, like x-rays
and we will always

It cannot go away
as the fire that gleams on
through the dark, through the wrong
the truth is still unfolding
the truth is still foreboding
better, better days...

April 16th, 2013

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Sunday, April 7, 2013

But It Lasts

Washing away, the broken glass
but it lasts
humming to a rhythm, going unseen
from the past..

The mistreatment goes on, and on
they'd be aghast
if they could see it
if they could feel it

But they don't
really believe it
and they'll be last
to see it …

April 7th, 2013

You can get all PDFs at http://www.girloutside.org/booksall/ (PDF layout is better honed than the blog format)