Today I accepted whats with in.
This one mind, which is every where.
and I accepted who I have been
and i realized there is no such thing as fair.

Today I opened myself to God and Satan and everything in between.

Because i realize evil is something with in Mans Illusion Dream.

So I'm allowing everything
to just  move through me...

But i still am not aloud to hold on.

I am frightened of holding still...
But while i fear I am frozen in place...
I wish that i could move by will
But I still have to many fears to face.

A poem, a poem I've got to write.
But nothing seems to come tonight.
I guess I'm just not very bright
When it comes to writing poems.

I crumple paper sheet on sheet.
I think of deadlines I'm to meet.
I haven't time to sleep or eat;
I've GOT to write a poem!

The time ticks on --it's two o'clock
Our light's the last one on the block.
Perhaps if I could take walk
I could better write a poem.

Then suddenly I get a thought--
I put it down to the very last dot…
And then I think, "It's not so hot."
Why CAN'T I write a poem?

But then I say, "'Twil have to do."
The morn is come; the night is through.
I'm tired but proud, I can tell you,
'Cause I just wrote a poem.
                        ^^^

There was a small frog
Splayed out on a zoo log
Its name was something-dog

I think it was dead
It didn't move its head
Nor blink its eyes instead

It was kinda cute
Though in death it was mute
So a picture of it I did shoot

A girl my age shoved past
Looked into the foggy zoo glass
To see the amphibious class

She called it lazy
Said the frog was **** ugly
Then left to see cuter things

Dead or simply asleep
Cute or a slimy creep
Who thought about frogs so deep?

So incredibly bored
So incredibly lonely
No one cares
No one listens
No one wants to
No one wants you
So incredibly empty
So incredibly tired
When will I find it
This doesn't seem worth it
This seems to end in pain
Maybe all this searching is in vain
Want to cry
Want to die
Want to live
Want to find you..
Maybe you don't exist
Maybe my everything in my heart
is a myth...
-Iris Madden

Let him sleep tonight
For his bed has been made.
A corrugated cotton sheet spangled red and blue
Reposing over hackneyed *****
Soothing the sores and aches of his daily grind.  

Let him sleep tonight
For his eyes are heavy
From the sight of comrades blown sky bound
Where he hopes to unite with them
For moments where they can rest at wanting ease.

Let him sleep tonight
For he has already heard his lullaby -
An opus of shrapnel and sirens
Bleeding through a shell-shock ensemble
Singing to the rhythm of the reloaded gun.  

Let him sleep tonight
For his flesh has gone cold
And his voice left desiccate,
Thirsty for the warmth that only an eternal blood and
Brotherhood can offer.

The curtains have risen.
The actors changed their personalities.
The stage has started to shine.
Yet one boy did not wat to put on the mask.
Yet the audience was missing.
Yet the theater was a flat.