Life Cycle

Breaking into the world, we cry.
Never get a chance to learn to fly.
Instinctual notions beaten in and out;
their minds scream and shout.

Roll over, take a step.
Move closer to where the secrets are kept.
Mommy and Daddy are so proud;
yet they are just another face in the crowd.

Older now, school calls their name.
No, things will never be the same.
Social infrastructure now instated. 
Healthy growth sadly belated.

Growing older still, awkward times ahead.
Things are changing, everything they ever fretted.
Move up on the list or far  down.
Avoid the beatings and don't make a sound.

Finally, they grow into their prime.
All they say is, it's about damn time.
Not everything is so great though,
One step away from an all time low.

Mid life is here, it came so fast.
The only thing they think about is the past.
Body breaking down and mind decaying;
So much self hating.

The twilight has come, are they ready?
Barely able anymore to stand up steady.
Their world a relic of the past.
Sweet release to come at last.

Back into the abyss, life was so fast.
No longer caring about the past.
Life wasn't what they though it would be.
Still, a beautiful scene to see.

In This City

It rains on this city;
this city full of whimsical disguise.
These masks become their face,
their face an unhappy compromise.
These strangers walk right by.
Are they real or are they alone?
The silhouettes of love shown on the blinds,
lust playing the bigger part in that scene.
The unequivocal truth of loneliness rears it's head.
Transient women the only embrace known.
This city is crumbling at it's citizens feet;
The city trampled upon by the uncaring.
No god governs these people.
These animals run off of pure instinct.
Innocence stripped from the young,
the continuation of a viscous cycle.
Drowning in this city,
this city of poison dreams.

The Passing Glance

A slip of the tongue brings about the upward shift of his lips.
Not expecting anymore than a hi and a passing glance.
But that glance turned into an awkward stare,
something more than what they might have expected.

They converse openly and freely, who could this person be?
Her face heats up, the signs of of happiness flooding her cheeks;
he laughs more than he had in months, hearts fluttering away.
One day feels like a lifetime, what is this feeling?

He asks maybe, baby, we could meet?
She says yes, excitement filling her eyes.
Both asking themselves, who is this person?
They may be young, but they know when they see a good thing comin'.

Each word like a beautiful new story,
there is something unique about these two.
He's not your average joe;
she's not your barbie queen.

A man with a heart, born of chivalry and burdened with the past.
A woman with country charm, sweet as can be, the past scarring as well.
Could this be what she was coming to find?
Might this be what he's been waiting for?

They say love is only true in story books and fairy tales,
souls never as genuine as seen on the silver screen.
There is something different about these two though.
Something real between this pair.

He's known false love for far too long;
she's known just the same and wants more.
She says this feels genuine, like it was meant to be.
He says he couldn't agree more.

Could it be, this passing glance, changed into something more?
A happenstance greeting from him,
An excited response from her.
Could this really have sparked so much more?

Their eyes meet, embarrassed at first. 
He says hi and she says hello back.
Conversation catches on quickly between the two.
Their hands meeting along the way.

The sun sets on their path as they walk.
His fingers intertwine with hers.
Finding a grassy place to sit, she laughs at his dumb jokes.
He looks at her, her at him.

Now the sun is gone, but the spark is bright.
She turns to him, him to her.
She closes her eyes and moves her head towards his.
Their lips meet in sensual silence, no words are necessary. 

A passing glance,
a few words chanced,
a night out,
love is sparked.

The Infection of Ideals

A playful facade of health and happiness,
disease and corruption breed just under the skin.
With each step you spread plague and lies;
your decrepit smile as enticing to people as sugar to flies.  

You spread your propaganda like a disease,
tainting and turning loved ones against each other with ease.
Feed on their flesh and alleged misconceptions;
fates are sealed within this unholy redemption.

Slandering truth with your pretty lies.
Break down youth before they even open their eyes.
This infection spreading far and wide,
yet those immune all seem so snide.

Bloody tears cascade down your face,
the infection is growing in pace.
You say you are happy but we know better;
this disease has consumed you all together..

Breaking the Bottle

Drink soberly to escape our fates,
the cavalry come to strike with haste.
Drunk on insecurity and self pity,
We wash and wash but still remain dirty.
Drain the pain away with each swig,
foolish wills snapped in half like a twig.
Each shot stings less than the last,
but comes with a solemn reminder of the past.
Playing pretend in this world all too real;
Numb to all emotion, too cold to feel.
Eyes growing ever heavy,
Tears filling the dry levee.
Our fates have met us at the door,
Stricken down with a loud thunk to the floor.
Opening your eyes, looking up one last time,
the bottle stares back; the only tool of this crime.

Ode to Your Tainted Beauty

When you scream inside and out
the pain washes off your beauty.
You leave life out of the equation
and only worry about selfish propensity.
Searching for your hero,
but what you missed is the villains shadow you cast.
Deserving of nothing but sadness,
trusting in your emptiness to keep you sane.
Love, love, love; oh you silly child.
Love never comes to the inherently wicked.
You talk of excuse and innocence,
the makeup won't cover this up though my dear.
Constantly running through my head,
this black abyss you have put me in.
No matter what you say,
loneliness is the only thing that accompanies your "love".
Bathing in tears,
the screams continue.
This is an ode to your tainted beauty,
lest you forget who you truly are.

Bar Poetry: Haiku Edition

Windswept Parchment

Petals flowing softly,
ink fills the parchment;
silent songs release.

Mossy Graves

Splintering oaks reside,
heroic graves stand still.
Flowers wither.

Wanderers Way

Trails to nowhere collide.
The dead's regrowth,
gnarled souls rejoice.

Silence of War

Crickets sing in silence,
breeze instrumental.
Blood drenched plains now lone.

Twilight Till Dawn

Tides in serenity,
the hour grows late.
Till light dawns once more.