[x]

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.

lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along

Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for?
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude

False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen

ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).

Chasing Butterflies

I believe in starry nights writing timeless songs
of all the yesterdays and tomorrows yet to come.

I believe in hearing the voice of love in rhyme;
I heard it as a child in my mother's lullabies.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

I believe in playing, absorbing life's full sun,
dancing through the day until the night is done.

I believe in wishing wells never running dry,
granting us the time for a tender, slow goodbye.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

Should I cross to the other side,
don't you worry; don't you cry.

There you'll see where tomorrow I'll be,
forever chasing butterflies...

False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.

Evolution of life

child, we dream
teenager, we have ideas
adult, we have a bar code encrusted in the nape

we evolve to finish in the matrix

False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for

On The Collapse Of Modern Society"I've never seen so many folks
putting their hopes
in packaged air,
as far as I'm concerned,
and from what I've observed
misplacing material worth while
rushing back and forth
to get nowhere."
my Grandma said,
shaking her head.

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire

Within A BoxIt's a prison for the minds of haunted souls
an odd prison, not large enough to contain its prisoners
and yet it encompasses every fiber of their being
in silent, silent spaces.
Haunted souls are searching for the key
there is no key, but they don't know any better
and what harm could it do? Hope is better than nothing
here's an unlocked open door for you.
Little trinkets haunt souls with their questions
and we want answers, but they won't give
anything away. Very smart,
you know the world is ending soon.
(The best of which are only
crude descriptions of the magic
they are looking for.)

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

bad nightmy mistakes are on my head,
and the cigarettes taste like metal;
on the street curb of a suburban block,
the lights jaundiced and flickering
like drunken fireflies, your reflection
that emanates from me covers every face.

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The Deed not the BreedYou cut off my ears
You make me fight
It only ends up putting me in a fright

You train me to be angry
And I'm overbred
For some unknown reason you want me dead

I'm bought and I'm beaten
And areas have me banned
What did I do to have my breed canned?

Every year humans are killed by my breed
But the total number of that is only three

There's the BSL who wants me muzzled
But all I want to do is to be snuggled

I'm loyal, kind, strong and oh so smart
I personally think I'm bred as a work of art

If I am raised properly from the start
You will know my biggest muscle is really my heart

Please don't raise me to be mean
Because that's

Hetalia OC Ireland profileName: Ireland (Republic)

Nicknames: Erie, Emerald Isle, Isle of Saints and Scholars, Republic of Ireland, RoI, etc.

Human name: Maureen O'Brien

Age appearance: 24

Gender: Female

Birth date: December 6th *The day Ireland gained independence.*

Hair Color: A reddish strawberry blonde [1]

Height: 165 cm (5'5")

Languages: Irish Gaelic, English, and some French[2]

Friends: France, America, Canada, Ukraine, Japan, North Italy, Poland, Hungary, Austria, Seychelles, Russia, China, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Greece, Germany ,The Baltics, Spain, Belgium, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Australia, New Zealand, Scotland, Wales, Post 90s pre 40s Northern Irel

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#Save-the-tiger
Every year is year of the Tiger

#PeTAKills

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Submitted: November 28, 2012
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A White Tiger's Thoughts

by ~Geekygirl43, Nov 28, 2012, 8:23:28 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Why do you like me? Why can't you look in my eye?
I don't want to live I want to die
I didn't want to be born this way
I didn't want to be white
It just causes problems, all day and all night

I can't hunt for my food properly because they can see me
If you were white and in a rainforest you wouldn't blend into the grass or a tree
I'm only in circuses, or low standard zoos, but all of that puts me in the blues
They say I conserve the species and it's a big lie
I bet you're wondering why I want to die

I don't want to live because the only way to get me is to inbreed me
With this I get crossed eyes, skulls that hurts, that will make it hard for me to see
My father and mother are most likely siblings
But people come and see me because they love different things

Unfortunately for my siblings born orange people barely seem to care
Don't you understand its better to defend my cousins who are rare?
I wanted to be born orange to be healthy and pure
Not going to see me is the cure
You may think that I'm beautiful because I'm white
But I feel being orange is more beautiful and right

A White Tiger's Thoughtsby ~Geekygirl43

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

This is a poem to reflect on what a White Tiger really is. You see White Tigers are not meant to exist, it comes from a recessive gene called leucism which is not albino. The last wild white tiger was caught in the 1950s and was bred with another tiger, and cubs were born all orange, but they still carried the white gene. However, they got that same tiger to breed with his daughter and finally white cubs came about. Unfortunately thanks to this inbreeding white tigers are often stillborn, dead after being born, or come with various defects that contribute to alternations in their appearance, and their health. While in the wild, their orange cousins are being killed and their parts are being sold in the black market. But why do White tigers continue to be bred? Simple, white is different, people like different, different attracts people, and people bring with them, money. So in order to stop this please, please, make sure that you don't go anywhere that displays white tigers, unless they are a certified sanctuary like Big Cat rescue. And I bet you're going to ask, Don't brothers and sister animals mate in the wild all the time? True, but there's a huge difference between once incident and the same line coming from only incest. Most tigers who carry the white gene will only have 25% of their cubs born white,but what happens to their orange brothers and sisters? Let's just say that just like in the wild some of them are killed for being born the wrong color, or they're sold in the black market as exotic pets, eventually being casted possibly into the illegal fur and meat trade.

~DejfTheLittleTiger Dec 1, 2012

Beautiful sad poem

~Blazesnbreezes Nov 29, 2012

THANK YOU. It makes me so happy to know that there are others out there who know the plight of the white tiger and try to educate people about why white tigers are not something that we should advocate. I feel very strongly about this also, so thank you so much for being a positive force in ending this cruelty

~Geekygirl43 Nov 30, 2012

I'm glad there are people out there concerned for this issue. And there is a way to help more tigers out in the wild too, just don't buy anything that contains unsustainable palm oil. What I mean by sustainable is that there are companies who have signed the RAN pledge to use palm oil that comes form sustainable non rainforest destroyed resources. Go to rain forest action network and look at the pledge list to see on what you're buying is rainforest safe.

*choco-latte-squirrel Nov 29, 2012 Student Traditional Artist

That's actually amazing to hear.

~moonlitinuyasha1985 Nov 28, 2012

~Geekygirl43 Nov 28, 2012

Yes, it is very sad, but we do have the power to solve this.

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