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.
Love knows no bounds.
Love can make you feel like you are flying, or it can drag you through the gutter.
Love can promise to be with you forever, then leave you, broken and bleeding, in an instant.
Love can be as easy as breathing, or as difficult as trying to fight the rip-tide in the ocean on a stormy day.
Some people think that love is not worth the pain it can cause.
I have decided that love, though fleeting, is worth the effort.
Though love cannot be guaranteed, it should be enjoyed while it is present.
If one decides to live life safely, never letting love in for fear of pain, then what is the point?