This is me new style. The old one just won't happen anymore.

All lingering things are fading, false, destructful.
What lays here discarded in roots and certainties?
Don’t leave him unaided, or habitually hostile.
They’ll give up their lives for his short incitement.

He tolerates their minds to eternally wander.
He thrills their eyes with his ailing enclosure.
They trail him always, around bigoted creeks.
Studying the filth as it materializes about his feet.

Sightless though they falter, his wasteland behind.
Still scorched and perplexed, yet there they are silent.
Yearning for shells of thrown away ink cartridges.
A keg stop or two of incurably fabulous dictions.

He halts and remembers, the days he was free.
Before a trustworthy grotto came with a charge.
To allow him to persist, but not without threat.
While his gathering keeps a secure space in his wake.

Innocence Forgotten

The ignorance in truth, is for the blessed
repreived. They know that the
swarms mate with substantial induction.
As the swarthy remainders lure in
sexualisation of the young.
The emancipation of the scorched,
frenetic parentage has
miscarried. So beckons the
maternal abstemious reception,
in the shrieking of a slight,unpolluted soul.
Insistence that blood is the
inaction of a weeping womb.
so does the Godly carer perish
and does inhabit the void.
The babe is passed from shackle
to shackle. She grows, exploited,
censured, ripped, until her
verysubsistence is a vortex of defiled remembering.
And then... nothing.
No stirring, no activity,
no crusade against the very fabric
of an ageless, but diffident resonance.
Just a husk, a being once radiant,
but now desolate.
Yet the lusty minds still have their
go before the once innocent girl
is sent to her vault, to remain
for all eternity, unknown and broken.

Facebook | Tainted love poems

Facebook Tainted love poems:
"Realize you mean a lot to me
so I want you to know.
This Christmas I'll think of you
...as I gaze upon the snow.
I'll raise a glass to you,
as i sit beside the tree.
This will be in honour
of the friend you are to me.
My friend you are so precious
like a diamond in the sky.
I miss you every moment
of the days that flicker by.
I send my thought on this page.
What more can I say>
Other than I hope you have
a wondrous Christmas Day."

Facebook

Facebook: "What makes me normal?
Seeing a woman smile.
Seeing her laughing and
not frowning for a while.

What makes me happy?
Seeing a child at play.
Knwing they are not suffering
at least for today.

What makes me chuckle?
Hearing a bird sing.
Seeing it flit about,
soaring on the wing.

What makes me cry?
Seeing people in pain,
needlessly, endlessly
for another persons gain.

What helps me see the world?
An open mind.
An outstretched arm.
And being naturally kind.
Well, it IS the only way to be."

Little Lost Fairies

Longing. They hide behind the wisps of a silver painted brush.
Tragedy. Mourning trees of death that portrays the soul of a crimson wasp.
Malady. Leafs, mouldy, falling slowly through times dark void.
Fear. they tremble, tiny, lost, fearing the way forward, but blind to the way behind.
Evil. Wicked beasts stalk them, claws inseminating the earth with thier poison, through every step.
Wicked. Thier burning eyes, flaming, see all that is good, and hate it.
Lust. They wish for nothing than to end all that walks or breathes.
Death. The lost fairies fear it. The beasts crave it. The forest nurture it.

ALL IS LOST!!!

Smile blankly

I saw a person sitting there,
his face was masked in pain.
He sat on a less comfy chair,
slowly going insane.
But for all his crazy thoughts,
there was one that shone true.
Of a basket of mouldy snots,
and a belly-button full of goo.
A bear-trap where a nose was caught,
and an eyeball up a tree.
A swamp inside a murky pot
and an elephant fighting a bee.
This person grinned a joyous smile
then dribbled down his chin.
I think he'll be there for a while
as he's in the loony bin.
--------------------------------
A crappy poem that I just HAD to share with everyone.

Elvish loyalty

For me they fight, those Elvish kings.
They light my way, under the moon.
They die for me, for love of men.
For royal blood and silver spoons.
No crown atop thier golden head.
Forsaken this is, for fealty's life.
No sons to carry on thier proven legacy.
Taking neither mistress, not comely wife.
Hourglass of life, they fight just to die.
Against rigid foes who bring misery about.
Thier battle is lost, they fight back to back.
They killed and they died, sent into rout.
For me they fought,those Elvish kings.
They lit my way, under the sky.
They died for me, for love of men.
Yet royal men have come to die.

About love of lords, and life.