Poetry

3^rd Eye

Tell about everything that might go unnoticed or is inappropriate / impossible to see with regular eyes.

The third eye sees when you’re not paying attention to our conversation.

The third eye sees when you look at other guys while we walk.

The third eye sees you say under your breath, “If only I were single.”

The third eye watches you flirt with my friend.

The third eye saw you talking with my friend all night.

The third eye saw you go over to his house yesterday.

The third eye watched you loose your virginity in his bed.

The third eye watched.

–S.A.D.

A journey is a force that takes you deep inside as if drowning in a dark pool of water.

You could feel the soft cool dirt and hear the crunching sound of the leaves below your feet.

Starring at a group of trees you walk across a yellow bus taking up most of the gravel pathway when you run across a spectacular view of a lake with only a hard red clay between the lack and the turtle green forest.

You find yourself lost in manmade structures and strong railing loading up. As you come across a noticeable white car you find yourself going faster across a brown dumpster with a most horrible smell.

Soon looking upon a littered yard as you walk in the school greeting people as you enter. Then starring at a silenced mural on the wall. 

Not long after you enter the classroom you need to catch your breath as you try to swim up. It’s too far and you have sunken too deep. Suddenly, a hand has reached toward you to lift you from the water. You latch onto your teacher.

-Anonymous

Angel wings?

I . . . want wings.
God, how I long to just . . . have that urge, to unfold a dozen thousand feathers off each shoulder...
I think . . . having wings would give way to a great feeling.
To stand in an open breezy landscape . . .
Then feel the ecstasy of energy surging through my veins from adrenaline . . .
Right before letting them lose, and taking to the skies . . .
Being one with the clouds I so adore.
Getting closer to the stars that swarm my dreams.
Bringing me nearer to the one my heart seems to stick to, allowing me to watch her gentle rest . . .
I'm sure if I had wings, I would never sleep.
I would surely eventually become exhausted, and become a part of the sea.
But . . . I just want wings . . .
I envy the angels a bit,
and spite the devils.
They are polar to one another, and the extremes of good and evil.
I suppose I'm too neutral to deserve wings.
Maybe I can get lucky, and a fallen angel will lose his wings as I'm walking near his downward spiral.
And I can pick them up, and simply attach them as if they were a natural part of my being.
But, the shine would hurt our eyes . . . could us, mere humans, bear the pure light?
Or, I could go kill a devil . . . and loot its corpse for a pair of wings: feathers black as night . . .
And then I can blend in with the darkness of night's embrace.
Either way . . . I want wings.
Maybe two treacherous angels will give up a wing a piece for their forbidden love . . .
One black, One white . . .
Then, I will be balanced.
Neither of dark, nor light.
Just me.
The mortal.
With the glorious ability of flight.

-Reverie

___________________________________

Anti- Valentine

Doesn’t anyone else see it?-

the waste to which our money goes

to buy those distasteful balloons,

on a day of “love”.

Love isn’t something to turn off or on;

For it’s there everyday

The truth I see

Is that this a scheme

That only lead to waste

Chocolates, flowers, and those worded sweets

(Whose names I always forget!)

Are gifts to be given everyday!

-Zeon Rerit

Back where I come from, the tractors are green,

The valleys are long, the hollers are deep,

And the hills roll as far back as the eye can see.

Back where I come from, there’re tobaccer in the field,

Herford cattle in the pasture, and you’re on the back of a quarter horse.

Back where I come from, beans, taters, and cornbread are always on the table

And in your belly.

Back where I come from, there’re barns, garages, and thick woods.

Back where I come from, you’re in Sunday school on Sunday morning

And heading out to homecoming afterward.

Back where I come from, there’re lifted trucks, farm work, and deer heads on the wall.

Marvin and Vickie had me!

Back where we came from, there’s always hay in the barn,

The food’s grown fresh,

And the beds are all made with love and hope!

-J. Deere.

Blaze

A little girl

Pacing from one to another

Desperate to be heard

To be loved

To share her blazing existence

Her passion

Not understanding that in her rising glory

She leaves a path of destruction

Not understanding that

For her to survive

 Other must die

Can she be blamed for her passion?

 Can she simply be destroyed because

In her innocence

In her youth

In her love

She was destroyed?

Is this really what love is?

Blazing

Beautiful

Grace

That leaves a twisted path

Blackened

Ash in its wake?

Is love worth it?

Can we live with the ash

For the beauty?

Can we blame the innocent?

- Vinny Louise

Blue Eyes

Lifeless, cold, emotionless blue eyes shrouded by such paper white skin.

Ice cold is wrong for this man once full of fiery passion,

Animate in every way, shape, form but now unmoving, uncaring.

How can so many memories be of these emotionless blue eyes?

A stiff, blue hand clasped in my own but no returned grip.

A hand that comforted, stopped the hurt, punished, taught, moved with elegance and purpose

Now limp, unmoving in certain death.

How can so many thoughts revolve around this unliving hand?

Smooth colorless face which holds a blank expression.

Did a smile ever burden those pale cheeks or quark those thin lined lips?

So many amazing bedtime stories maybe had never past through that unmoving mouth.

How can this be the last memory for such a alive person.

Its against law, moral, everything I have every believed in,

Realization, such sweet knowledge.

This isn’t he,

Not this empty shell.

–B. Shelling

Dancing With the Stars

Stars are twinkling

Stars are winking

As I see

Back at me

God’s little cares

As we sit unaware

Are watching what we choose

Making sure we find no harm

Making sure we’re in God’s arms

All our little cares

Join all of theirs

To become happy thoughts

Like how our souls have been brought

By our lad Jesus

Ans how He will never leave us

Cares become smiles

That are all worth the while

Stars are now the laughs

Of toddlers seeing giraffes

For the very first time

Or first tasting a lime

And giggles of teenage girls

Caught up in their own world

Holding hands with a boy

Or a grown man’s joy

At seeing his newborn son

Imagining their future fun

Or just the simple love

Coming from the hill above

Or a withered old couple

Whose backs are now doubled

They know when they die

They’ll both dance in the sky

With the laughs

And with the smiles

And all of them will be together

Forever

And ever

Amen

-Anonymous

 ___________________________________

Death is painted in red, white, and black

The vibrant crimson hiss of red lingers on slender necks

Tan skin fades into alabaster in mourning of last breath

Ebony curtains close over veiled eyes and shut away the world

Life is painted in red, white, and black

The soft dusting of red on bashful faces

Pearly teeth peep gleefully form between sweet lips

The dark centers of inqustitive eyes glint in vigor

Life and Death are painted red, white, and black; but then–

What is Death but Life himself, clad in robes of change.

–Vandalia

Family

The world is a place

Of unjust cruelty.

People know this,

But they hate the blunt truth.

I am betrayed,

And I feel despair rush in upon me.

It breaks against the protection

Given to me by my family’s

Love.

I know love cannot fix all damages,

But when my family surround me,

I relax.

I breathe more softly

And think more slowly.

I let my mask slip away because

They are my protection.

When the day is tough,

They are always there

To comfort me.

When I behave stupidly,

They do not hesitate

To tell me so.

When I am happy,

They know that I am me

Not the image I show the world. 

They are my strength.

They are my family.

-Zeon Rerit

Forgiveness of time

I feel the rose Petals gently wrap around me

I feel the febree spreading all over me

I feel the soft touch of my cats when I was young

I feel the rough touch of a crooked dogwood tree swiftly follow me to the end of time

I feel the silk wrap me tight as my sight is begging to point the last days of my life

When clouds begin to linger and evolve my thought on how I got here

When I realized I am destined, destined for more destined for the dreams I never had

Dream on I say, Dream on, never stop, remember

The wisdom be told to you as you were a child

Think of the sweet smells te tranquil sounds and the astonishing sights

The beautiful, the ugly, the seen, the unseen

Now that I realize that my life is the window to my soul

And that I must magnify my life

My soul may carry the Eternal Secret

The secret of time that releases forgiveness

Forget forgive and I move on

-Anonymous

Haunted

I can see her

Even though she is not there

She talks to me

And gives me her half smile

That makes heart melt

I see her laugh away.

At something I had said.

We smirk as we pass

Letters behind the teachers back

These letters are full of hope

And of strong bond

Or so my mind told me

I can see her giving me

Her half angry look that makes us both

Laugh our heads off

Everything she says

And everything she does

Is a promise of something

Greater than even I could

Believe in or think of

I cannot tell you what

An angel looks like

But I can say she

Comes close

She smells so great,

Smiles so beautifully

That she takes my breath away.

It was all lies.

I cannot rid myself

Of the pain inside

Of me that rips

Out of my very soul

With its blood soaked hands.

I can feel it.

It sticks to me

In a way things of pain do.

Ripping away

Fast as a tornado.

On it’s destructive path

It kills me

In a way swords never could.

I heal though

I move onward

Yet still nipping

Away at my heels is

A little memory that

Will not leave me alone

It speaks her name.

                      It is haunting me…

- Zeon Rerit

He is your angel, your dark delight

His mere scent reminds you of the crisp fresh night

He holds your hand and whispers in your ear

And slowly, oh so slowly you two draw near

Feel his breath tickling your neck

As if you’ve known him yet you’ve never met

This dark angel, This Dark angel is your angel of death

You know him, love him, fear him

And still you obey his every whim

You can’t help but love the darkness

It’s in your blood

Smothering you, choking you, wrapping around you with its viney grip

It’s intoxicating, exhilarating, hypnotizing and exotic

You hate it, need it, crave it, and want it

It’s your poison, your forbidden apple

Take one bite and accept your fate

It’s your right! It’s the apple you should have already ate.

He’s yours to keep and yours to have

You know no matter what he does it never makes you mad

And you flock to him to like sheep to a Shepard

And trust him like the best of lovers

So you’ve taken the bait

You can feel the darkness seeping in

Yet you smile at his lopsided grin

And finally you’re able to say

“You know I was never able to stay away.”

He nods, agrees with what you said

And only hugs and replies “And you know this night has to end.”

It’s a sad fact to accept to know that your dark angel has to leave

But fear not he’ll be back again

In your dreams, your thoughts, your breath, your head

And over and over all you’ll be able to hear

 Is ‘Fear not my shadow Girl for your dark angel is always near.’

 ___________________________________

I am from my Life

I am from some cold eyes and black stares

A soul of a sister living with me

Because she’s met a murder’s hands

I am from a family destroyed from inside

My life began with death

I am from nothing

Except my brother and the clothes on my back

I traveled from ‘home’ to ‘home’

Never being wanted and never

Needed for anything

I was just that thing that had to be tended and kept alive

My life continued through rejection

I am from a haunted land

Of fears and night terrors

I lived with the burns of the past

And the fear of the future,

Sometimes blinded to the present

I learned to push it away because

This was not important in his plan

My life was a place of horrors

I am being saved by those who cared,

The sweetness of being needed filling me

And the warmth of love holding me

I am from a world of sunshine

And beaches that I never saw

A land of Orange Trees

And winter without snow

From uniform yards and boring cars

My life turned to acceptance

I am from numbers and words

And ‘Yes, sirs’ and ‘No, ma’ams.’

Though I am not an army child

It was just respect above it all.

My life was taught right

However, life was too routine

Put simply, this life bores me,

Yet terrifies me,

It makes me break down in tearless cries.

I lost the will to carry on

So I tried to run from it all.

I gathered the supplies

I began to run

What stops me from running

From my new Blessed World

It was being cared from that saved me thrice

My life was confusing

I am from struggling to fit in

All the way, to be glad

That I am different

I am from the worst parts of life

When life was young and old,

To the good parts filling in

The blank of evil

I am from greed and yet charity

From fighting to giving

I am the opposites of the world

Causing me to clash with all those around me

You know what I don’t care anymore

I can’t please or save all.

My life is a paradox.

I learned at the age of three a terrible lesson

At a terrible cost I did not pay.

Life does as it pleases, and I cannot change

It even with my intelligence

It’s beyond any of us.

I learned a lesson later on.

Those closest to your heart

Have the best short at crushing

It without knowing

My life is made form lessons

I am from sealed hearts that

Keep me shut inside myself

Walls of steel wrapped tight-

I am from being accepted once,

To being rejected hundreds,

Love’s sweetness turning sour in my mouth,

Wrenching me to nothing.

I am from broken hearts,

From girls I let to close,

Because I possess a depth of feelings

I have not entitlement to,

My life is a beating and bleeding heart.

I am from a World of My Own.

Where words are the stirring power,

I am in control and no one else.

My life is the books I write.

I am from a World of Broken Dreams

Lying scattered around me

I stay to pick up the pieces-

Pointlessly

I am from my parents’ prophecies of failures

To my friends a word encouragement

I walk a tight rope over a

Pool of Lava. 

All it would take is a spark to jump too high and…

SNAP!!!

I fall to burn

I am from the phoenix

And its skills of rebirth

No matter what, I will not stay down

My life is of destruction and reconstruction

I am from pushing

When others top

My sheer determination

Beating all the odds

I am from MY LIFE…

- Zeon Rerit

I cry myself to sleep.

I’m in way too deep.

The bed that I have made

Is tattered, torn, and frayed.

What have I done?

I thought it was all just fun.

-Anonymous

I See What I Want to See

When I walk outside, I see a beautiful yet delicate place

It makes me feel like I have freedom.

I can taste how free the air is.

I can smell freshly cut grass.

I can hear the wind whistle through the trees.

But all of these wondering things end.

Soon I’ll come back in the could dull place I was before.

I’ll feel like my hands are restricted.

I’ll see the boring lightless walls.

I’ll hear pointless noises that make me weak.

But I will always know there’s a door to go out

So I can feel free once again.

-Anonymous

If I Was…

If I was a jock

I would flex my mighty arms,

Let my looks do all the work

And boast about my skills.

If I were a comedian

I would try my best jokes,

And get you to laugh your head off,

And find humor at every turn.

If I were a musician

I would play you a live song,

I would be a one man band,

And rock my heart out just for you.

If I was a singer

I would sing you a beautiful song

In a voice that is fit

For the birds of the world.

I am a writer

So I write how I feel,

Write you a vivid description of yourself

And craft a beautiful poem.

-Zeon Rerit

It lingers in the corners of everyone’s life.

It drinks every happy emotion,

And eats up the rest.

It boils the blood in your veins.

It looks like beauty by sight,

But death by touch.

It knows your every fear,

And makes every moment pain.

It makes your worst nightmare real.

It makes reality what you fear most.

It rejoices in your depression,

And feeds on you.

–Elizabeth Klingsick

Lies

Mommy, Mommy, I saw daddy kissing another lady.

Daddy, Daddy, I saw brother doing pot.

Brother, Brother, I saw you with your girlfriend in the bed.

Sister, Sister, I saw you slice your wrist.

Grandma, Grandma, I saw you cut Mommy out of the Will.

Grandpa, Grandpa, I saw what you did to Grandma’s back.

Auntie, Auntie, I know you had an abortion.

Uncle, Uncle, I told everyone you molested Sister.

Cousin, Cousin, I know you throw up your food after every meal.

Everyone, Everyone, I lied.

–S.A.D.

Mind in the Wind

One dreary ago

I dream away

How far would I

Have to go

I stay in the wind

Wondering

Where and when the sky

Is going to drift away

-J.R.M.

___________________________________

My love, my heart, my soul is my gift to you.

Your smile, your love is the only reward I would want.

Precious like a gem made by the angels to shine forever

Releasing the passion inside me that burns for you

Intertwining our destinies so that we two soul mates

Now and forever can live out our hopes and dreams,

Creating our own bond of life to overcome the challenges,

Explore the mysteries, and enjoy life as it should be,

Sharing the peace and love that everyone is looking for

So that in the end I want nothing because I have everything I need

                                I LOVE YOU.

-Anonymous

Never Be My Father

I hear the way you say “I love you.”

I hear the way you cry.

You say you miss me,

But you never call.

You’re my dad,

But you’ll never by my father.

You went to visit me.

You say you have three girls.

What about Theresa?

You my dad,

But you’ll never be my father.

My father will never lie.

My father is always there to listen to me.

My father looks over me.

My father is always by my side. 

My father cares.

So that’s why you’re my dad,

But you’ll never be my father.

–Elizabeth Klingsick

One Your Many?                                                                  

What is wrong with the world?
Who has it all wrong?
Can we still be saved or are we to far gone?
How can we turn a blind eye,
Then Point out mistakes when we do the same?
Are we wrong or right?

Why do we blame others?

How can we blame one person or race,

When we all share the same pain?

Don’t we all know the same hurt?

Do we always fall or fly?

I’m only one with one voice.

How can I be heard above the roar?

Can one really make a difference?

If you stop one person’s pain does it really matter?

Can we or will we not?

-- B. Shelling

“Recipe For Sadness”

A bowl of heart break, a bit of death, a tablespoon of mother or father never coming back.

Boil to a simmer, where flood flows from a but arm.

Sprinkle with a find out of a twin brother died at birth.

Pepper it with bad memories, then cut into a friend killed by suicide.

Serve to a heart stopped beating, then leave the dead at rest.

–S.A.D.

Return Favor

A heart–

Beat skipped when those doors

Closed. I thought I could trust you. Bet it

Doesn’t seem that way since

Everything was

Flushed down the toilet.

“Go away and never come back!” is what my

Heart had to say, but

I couldn’t say it to your face. Now I

Just sit here waiting to be

Kicked back into that

Letter filled world. You make your

Mark on my life.

Now it’s my turn. You

Opened up my every emotion and

Pulled on every string . Just as

Quickly as you came, you

Ran away. Your life is not going to

Stay as sweet as you

Think it is now. It’s your turn to open

Up your door to a

Visitor,

Who’s not so welcomed. Now try to

Explain why

You did what you did. Now your life will

Zip by just as fast.

–Elizabeth Klingsick

Skittles

See the rainbow

Taste the rainbow

There are only five colors

But that’s okay for Skittle lovers

Red is Passion-

Passion of eating with joy

Red is anger

For when they are all gone

Orange is for balance

For they have a sweet taste

They also show cruelty

When they vanish from the pack

Purple is prideful

Happy with itself

Purple is a fisher king

With its pride and royalty

Yellow is for generosity

When you share with others

It is the illumination

Of the whole pack

Green is for hope

Of many more to come

It also makes others jealous

When you have them and they have none

Who am I kidding?

I don’t care about the colors

Red, Orange. Purple, Yellow, or Green

I’ll eat them all!

- Zeon Rerit

Slam on Rap

I don’t get why people listen to rap

Too me it sounds like crap

It’s always talking about violence and money

But trust me that don’t get you no honeys

Selling drugs that don’t make you a man

But I know what can

Lifting hay and driving Dodge Rams

That my friend makes you a man

Don’t bring no city music to my land

Cause if you do

You will be turned into can ham

Think you look tough in saggy shorts and city shoes

But I look tougher in Wrangler and boots

You think you look cool

With that bling bling at the mall

But I look cooler with deer antlers on my wall

You are the ones calling us Hillbillies and Rednecks

But we work on a farm for our six packs and pecks

Your cars are slick and your stereos do boom

But my F-350 has more room

-J.D.

Snap Shot of Class

The person near me begins to wiggle.

She is still paying attention

As she chews away on a piece of gum

Despite the fact that she may get detention.

The girl to her left brushes away her hair.

She leans over the calculator, resting head in hand.

I can still see straight to her face to see a sense

Of utter concentration that I could never command.

The girl in front of the last seems less concerned

As she taps away on her phone.

She takes some notes on the tip of her page

To hide that she’s in her own zone.

The girl in front of me I cannot see

Except to note that she is leaning,

Her head turned to the teacher,

Catching every word’s meaning.

The two kids to her right play a flirting game.

They laugh rather quietly,

Covering their mouths

So that the teacher will not see.

The two girls in front of me concentrate on the board

Because there are numbers there.

They turn away their heads,

Swinging ‘bout their hair.

There are two in front of the first girl and the one on their right

Seem to be on their own path.

They three stare at the calculator

As if it scares them with its math.

The girl to the right of the first

Focuses solely on her work.

She pushes buttons constantly,

But nothing seems to work.

Two seats in front of her,

Attention is a fake

Because normally he is never

Sitting up awake.

Two seats ahead of him sits another,

Sitting by her own.

She who usually scares me with words

Unknowingly sits alone.

At the far end of the room,

Two sit in isolation,

For neither will converse with the other,

So neither will gain revelation.

Just as I pull my thoughts together,

My teacher calls out my name for the fourth time today.

My face blushes as I realize

I had let my thoughts run away!

-Zeon Rerit

Take the Trek

I take the trek across mountains,

Breathing the autumn air.

I feel the rush of the wind on my face

And the beat of the ground under my feet.

I run through fields to touch the center

So that I may spin and see the world

In a view that few have seen

And fewer can appreciate.

I trek through the forest,

Searching for the path,

But I fear that I have lost it,

Buried in the trees o’er my head.

I struggle up the mountain

The pinnacle is a long way up,

And the journey takes some time,

But the view is well worth the effort.

I swim through the sea

To attempt to touch the bottom.

This new world reaches out

To reveal itself to me.

So come friend,

Join the trek with me,.

Feel the rush of wind on your face,

Taste the summer air,

And listen to the beat of our feet on the ground.

The three Ladies of Life

Are known by all and few.

They have names we recognize

And faces we see are true.

They are all beautiful,

The three Ladies of Life.

The first lady is Morning

With hair so bright and fair.

She floats around us all;

She flies through the air.

With curls of orange and gold,

She reflects the suns first rays.

Morning with a loving smile

Begins every day.

Her blue eyes spark with youngster’s joy,

Youth, beauty, and fun.

Her happiness is unrivaled,

And her smile as bright as the sun.

Morning is the first of these

Three Ladies of Life.

The second lady is Noon

With hair of orange and red.

By this time,

All have left their beds.

When her light reaches out

With a fiery hand,

She flashes with intense heat,

Smoldering the land.

Her green eyes hold the grief of the world,

For many things she sees

Even if it hides from others,

Hides from you and me.

Nothing can hide from Lady Noon

And the stories that she weaves.

She cannot help the trees she kills

And the destruction of their leaves.

Noon is the second of these

Three Ladies of Life.

The third lady is Night,

The Mistress of Mystery and Despair.

She can convince the world

That life is truly not fair.

Her hair of billowing black

Shadows all the land,

Hiding thieves and murderers

With her concealing hand.

She’s a schemer who loves

He who is called the Reaper.

She helps him end all life,

Driving the misery deeper.

Only to her will he serv

With his sickle high.

In honor of this dreadful lady,

He must make others die.

Her eyes of silver have many forms.

Their color provides the light,

Though sometimes her eyes are closed

So that we may know that it is truly Night.

Night is the third of these

Three Ladies of Life.

-Zeon Rerit

True Beauty

Darkness

Fear

Evil

Like the calm before a storm

The Feeling of someone watching you

The glint of a blade

The twang of a bow

The blast of a gun

The feeling right before death

Disaster

Destruction

The cruel irony of nature

As if glad to see your pain

Life brought into a stark reality

Every detail defined

The sense heightened

The pains dulled

Forgotten

As the grace of darkness overwhelms you

What a greater beauty is there?

- Vinny Louise

When You Give Your Heart To a Stranger

Insults said but like a blade and the pain is fed

To the voices inside my head.

Trembling hands wipe tears form my eyes

And now I can see through your disguise.

You never loved me; you never cared.

I was hesitant to love you, but still I dared

Now my heart is bleeding; it is forever scarred

By the flames of my passion, I have been marred

Now you look sown upon me with pity and hate.

And here I had thought you were my soul mate

I have learned my lesson, so now I know

That when you give your heart to a stranger, the lies will start to flow

You will be swept away in a river of ecstasy

But when the time comes you’ll end up like me

So listen when I tell you this, for this is something I know

It that then you gibe your heart to a stranger, you are worsening the blow.

– R. I. Parsons