Like a white bird in a blizzard
I'm invisible
In middle is where I'm delivered
Battling the freezing storms
No one notices, but that's the norm
The battles I wage are as silent
As the first feathery snows at night
This world is cold and cruel
There is no golden rule
One of these days when you finally look, I'll be found
Lying frozen to the ground

Alone, lonely at night
I pick up my pen and I write
About all my wrongs till they're right
Battlin with myself to find the words
Almost like i'm picking a fight
with myself, the one person I don't even like we goin through the same ****, different  night and some how I never right
Haters casting spells on **** the couldn't even write telling me how to make it better then I visit thier site they reposting poems they didn't even write you thought this was poem, now your in for fight my higher intellect and my thoughts intersect and the words ignite this rap not a poem much to your delight I wrote this **** to take a **** on haters that like - to hate on peoples works, I refute anyone that thought they gave them the right, now things is getting ugly, i'm going in on this track until they give me life, killing this **** and to think this is me being nice

You'll never bring me down,
No matter how hard you try,
You can shake,
And you can break,
But know I'll never forsake,
The paths I made,
They'll never fade,
Under your strings of tirade,
Cause the sticks may break my bones,
But the words I take and own...

A few times in life I've been smitten
By the feelings of love I've been bitten
But cold is love
Like in winter a hand that lost it's glove
It's touch can leave you frozen
A heart eaten away by corrosion
It will make any situation a little more dire
Making you feel a little more expired

Why is love so cruel
Two people in a dual
Leaving you the fool
Feeling just like a ghoul

Love set's your heart on fire
Giving you all kinds of desire
Only for it to turn the tables
For seemingly it is just a fable
It's really not real
All those feelings you feel
They were nothing but a mirage
Giving you a cardiac massage

Why is love so cruel
Two people in a dual
Leaving you the fool
Feeling just like a ghoul

Till that inevitable day
Love takes it all away
You plummet from the sky
Till you're laying in the wry
Love so skillfully fleeces
As you cut yourself to pieces
Trying to recover your shattered parts
Tiny slivers of a pulverized heart

She lives to love a man who once could sing
his way into the hearts of many crowds;
once strong enough to pick up anything
with either back or mind.  Her man had wowed
the critics with his skill with a guitar,
with songs that brought salt water to the eyes
and lyric laughter.  Could have been a star,
connections came and left, not realized.
The cracking voice now breaking hearts instead,
the left hand hanging, useless, by his side.
His back is bent, his heart is weak, his head
is filled with possibilities untried.
What's left of him can barely take her hand...
and yet...
                 and yet, she lives to love her man.

the art of poetry
    like any art
produces better work
when writers are not only
erudite but also smart

the lovers' painful state
upon loss or desertion
is voiced much more impressively
with less dramatic flourish
and more of the grate
that finishes the sword
at the old blacksmith's fire
where the hot flame of our desire
    thrown into water
with a defiant hiss
turns into deadly steel
ready to **** and ******
     friend or foe or lover
in our desperate search
     for exits from the mire

or take the unexpected loss
    of victory that seemed so close
    on a wild battlefield
when suddenly the hero's gallant steed
    falls victim to a hostile archers shot
and its proud rider is reduced to shout
"A kingdom for a horse!"
rather than holding a long monologue
    about the treachery of fate

in  short
less is oft' more
and lets the readers fill the empty spaces
with their own images and graces

when our mind is full of great ideas
we want to write them down
yet there are times when we  discover
that there is no connection from our brain
to all the instruments we use
to transcribe our flighty thoughts
    to give them shape on paper, screen, or in the sand

sometimes it helps to pause a bit and reconsider
what we do really want to say  
    focus and concentrate
    articulate precisely yet suggestively
our indomitable urge to formulate
    the turmoil of emotions we may harbor
    our wild ideas of revolution
    the overbearing pain of loss and separation
    grey landscapes of depression
    attractions of dramatic suicide
also the joy and pleasures of deep love
    of unexpected friendships found
        where even angels fear to tread
    the happiness of our children
    the love we recognize
        often too late
    our parents have bestowed on us

et cetera  et cetera

the catalogue of our themes
expands through our lives
so do the challenges
of how to tell the tale

it helps to aim for clarity
we have to  let our instruments of writing know
which of our turbulently swirling thoughts
should earn the privilege
to become words
    and be communicated
to people who
    before they read our verse
have no idea at all
    that we exist

Don't give your heart to a broken girl
You'll have to see all her flaws and madness
You'll see nothing but all her tears
You'll hear nothing but silence
She'll waste all your time without talking
Loving her will not be worth it.

I  am not afraid of my truth anymore
And I will not omit pieces of my gore
Just to make you a bit more at ease
I will say and do as I please

I am a black sheep
I am a freak
I am not that stable person you seek
My past and future reek

I meditate
I hesitate
I contemplate
I self medicate

I'm a complicated person
Of that I am certain
I am not whole
I lost my soul
I've grown cold
But thats the way it goes
When there are holes
Because of pieces stole

I'm not afraid of my truth
No need to become a sleuth
I confess, it started in my youth

A step dad that loved to much
His putrid touch
Years spent in his clutch

I am a black sheep
I am a freak
I am not that stable person you seek
My past and future reek

A heartless mother
That just smothered
One sister and two dead brothers
Agonizing events, one after another

Heartless men
Used and sinned
Life in a spin
Latter in life ***** again

Sanity gone
Done so wrong
Growing weak, no longer strong
Just part of my sad life's song
If I wrote it all, this poem would be to long