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Original Poetry by Mary McIntyre-Terranson Once, when my soul was truly ensconced in the west So Present and Home I saw a Timber Wolf, who In the Infinite "wisdom" of those with thumbs

Wherefore art thou? It's been much too long Since last we met My lover awaits At my window The portal to another world In his heated embrace.

I'm scared of the dark, She says. In a wave of humble confession. No, I'm terrified of it.

You ooze confidence Seeping through that sleazy smile But I know just what you are Won't fool me anymore.

You are the scumbag king The narcissistic liar Manipulative coward Embodiment of Evil. The snake that slithered Hissing secrets That led to Eve's mortal mistake.

You look at me I avert my eyes It's like avoiding staring Straight into the sun. Like I will be blinded Should I look too long.

My mind may seem like a dark place to most Full of monsters, untold horrors That are present in my artistic expressions But I do not fear the same monsters that others might. I do not fear false monsters.

In a world where we worship False prophets and pop stars Instead of praising intelligence And peace makers...

I always get asked, "Why is your poetry so serious and dark? Why don't you write about something happy?" I could be wrong on this, but aren't poets supposed to be Somewhat angsty? The world isn't all rainbows and unicorns. It has real pain and suffering Sadness, disappointment, death....Sarah Palin.

You know that feeling Deep down in your gut That tells you When something isn't right? I ignored it.

I am that dying star Hurdling through space at unimaginable speeds Leaving a trail of light in my wake I will not let you see me fall...

A zombie courted a pirate wench Upon the seven seas Decaying smiles across the miles He only wished to please.

Day and night, I ref an internal fight. Nothing seems to win, nothing loses life. Of all the thoughts and all the prizes, I never once knew what a pointless life meant.

Chosen generation. It is time. Shout your victory and let it be Mine.




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Writing  »  Your Original Poetry
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I am here.* Friday, November 11, 2005 :

Posted By : Katrena Sims
Date Added : May 18, 2010 Views : 330
Rate Author : Current : 2.60 /5
Rate this Article : Current : 2.54 /5



I am here for now. Enjoy what I am and who I am. For now is the only time I have and I just need to enjoy it. Put all the other things out of my mind. Don't stress don't worry. The ones that say they love and care. Well, the one that says he does most proves to me once again, He's not here. He's not with me. He is in his own life and doesn't want any responsibility. Wants me to handle all things. If he only knew what he did to me yesterday. Who said abuse has to come at the end of a fist. It also comes at the end of a tongue or the lack of doing. So, here I am today. Thinking I am strong. Wanting so much to be what I need to be for my children and myself.

Once again I am not the individual made of steel.
I feel like a delicate rose petal that falls from a florists table.
Drifting aimlessly to the floor.....one step, two steps, three steps,
on and on til I can't count how many times I'm stepped on.
Then, there I am at the end of the day ripped tattered and torn.

Yet, to be a rose in a vase being nourished, admired, and taking care
of by the hands of another.


 


Written by Katrena Sims



Written by Katrena Sims

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