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Index of poems:
in dedication to my mum As she closes her eyes to blind the world of the tears inside of this desperate girl. She closes her eyes to dance and sing and pretend that all right is everything. The enchantment you know in books you've read is what she pretends to be in her room; in her head. Twirling about like a queen. Forgetting her troubles and forgetting what was last seen. Her brain becomes washed with pictures of romance. Her lips paralysed to words of enchantment. A sensation runs down her with glitter and galore making her feet barely touch the floor. Her eyes closed gently not letting them open, but inside of her eyelids they lay and just glisten. A smile upon her face (something not seen for days) she caresses the music in her head and upon the wind her hair lays. Pretending to be something she never will be, but not knowing this she thinks it will be reality. Caressing the wind with words so sweet. A voice so beautiful but one you'll never greet. She is wearing an apron and dress but this she'd never believe! For in her eyes a gown and glitter is all she sees. Pure golden accesories with a gown of silk. Becoming filthy rich she becomes numb to guilt. The floor below her sparkles with reflections of the skies. In reality it's only wood covered with old tears she has cried. The pearls she wears underneath her eyes glimmer in the evening's light. Her baby soft hands touching a man of marriage; she might. Dancing in her room with an apron and socks. Don't tell her she is dreaming as it is to her, she is not. * * * Caressing the winds with breath so sweet. The sparkling skies above her cry in her defeat. Twirling and dancing with eyes now closed so tight in fear that if she opens them reality will come back to her sight. I wouldn't dream of letting her know her dreams will soon have to go. She wouldn't mind if you laughed at her dreams because she'd close her eyes and start to dance and sing. She sweats not once while dreaming of a dream and twirling around on air, as it seems. Humming along to the music in her head keeping her dream alive and well and with desire it must be fed. Back to top
Falling strangely beneath my soul are memories that drop without wings. Gliding past my every step are songs we made but never did sing. Found the light all on my own and found the road just as well. I thought I had found you once but our memories don't ring a bell. Loneliness is now my spawn; death is hungry for my peace. All the things I held so strong I've now let go in final release. Swallowing my desires; falling through my bravery. Eyelids close in surrender as I pass my soul to slavery. Haunted by what comes for me and frightened by what has passed. Black eyes watch my every step losing all the things I once amassed. Spinning slow I see your breath but I blind myself with tears. Everytime I think you're back my wretched screams are all that I hear. Singing songs I once wrote I wish you'd stop; they're all mine. But that was always like you take what's not yours and pretend it's fine. Swallowing my bravery; falling through my desires. Eyelids open in attempt to look past someone once admired.
escaping what's reality to veil sinful dreams. nothing comes this way unless treading on they mean. favourable desires alight themselves within. nothing here bears charity, but only charity of the skin. shadows cover every eye and every mouth covered with dust. all brains swept away with thoughts of their own desired lust. cornered in your own rebellion knowing this is wrong. fulfilled not yet, we keep going; no one dares not finish their song. teasing and tormenting minds desires forbid themselves amongst the grounds of Mercy onto which no one delves. God sees this pleasantry, this delightful, delicious sin, but in the end we pray stop. at lust we only just begin. murderer of the mind, killer of innocent souls. vengeance through our bodies, has created beautiful trolls. our bodies portray desire and yet our souls are plagued. we dig ourselves deeper into an invigorating grave. the bed our hearts lay upon is not the one we desire to return, but instead the bed of death is what our hungry minds yearn. we know which is truly more giving and yet we replenish thirst with sand. no pleasing a high-class whore with only holding hands. unveil the masked shame and cover only with guilt. confidence is perverted when on lies it is built. corner your own rendezvous with all that you proclaim. all these lies you cover with truth should be your begotten shame. nurse the needs within as youth will then not rust. find the depths of your skin as you dive into lust. eat the candy with the poison that only pursues death. find the hand that is too pure to even feed off your breath.
Dancing on the windows are raindrops that appear. God has let his angels back, they cry in desperate fear. For the flock has begun to stray and some have even turned. Others stay with their herd, others just may never learn. Hallowed markings upon the night beseech our very souls. No other than the very strays run from where the bell tolls. Angel tears devour our skies as we're curious if this is a flood. The flood of life by our sins. For strays now leave their blood. Grounds are covered in their marks and yet the innocent cannot flee the knowledge born unto them. The live in unwilling misery. The sheep are running, Dear Lord, and with wolves some do reside. We cannot help them, Lord, unless we risk our lives. We stay back just in case the devil tempts us like the strays. We dare not turn to be like them as we dare not to try and save. Landscaping our very hearts is a different sin than theirs. 'tis the curse of blind greed that our fear has taken heir. Angel tears swallow our life as they stand afar with concern watching each and every sheep listen and yet never learn. For the strays aren't the only who have turned from their Light, but the ones who are ignorant and think they're always right. Judgment calls upon us at the hour and we stand proud and oblivious. When our guilt is under a veil and our sins are subcutaneous. At times our wrongdoings are invisble to the eyes of the sinner, but just because we're blinded by ignorance doesn't mean we're the winner. Back to topThe End © Brittany Renée Herbert, 2004 The blade rips open nothing but itself and closes only what needs sewn. Sunset meets the prowling night and upon my wounds, moonlight has shone. Darkness leaves a glittery trail of dust and comets evaporate before my eyes. Everything comes to be exactly nothing and the end promises more than a surprise. Night falls fading from the sky to only blanket my sight of any thing mortal. The ground beneath me shrinks in fear as I unwillingly enter this dark portal. Sound cannot be heard in this black box, and nothing can escape its very grasp. Life is but to die, or else it's not living. Life is but our own unconcious trap. My eyes are opened but they're closed because the blackness seems to veil anything I try to witness, but it moves me. To understand this, I can only fail. Senses have now been cast aside and the only thing I can feel is fear. It breathes down my shell's neck and inside my thoughts it does peer. Harbouring me to its destiny, I am handcuffed with its chosen fate. Nothing more can I do to find myself in a clever state of escape. Music sounds off in my mind and a reel starts to quickly play. What was past plays before me... and suddenly I feel a warm ray. Beating on my eyelids knocks a light and begs me on demand to see that through the portal I was lead to my ultimate life and destiny. The end is nothing of my comprehension but there is just one thing I do know. That however it ends, I was promised a life for ever from a man so long ago.Back to top
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