SilverRose

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Everything posted by SilverRose

  1. Addiction is his Shepherd; he shall only Want. It maketh him to place his ego as his only regard. It leadeth him to consider excess as the norm. It emptied him of a soul. It leadeth him in the paths of destruction for its name's sake. Yea, though he walks through the valley of the shadow of death, He will fear no evil: For he calls it Good and knows no difference. His rod and his staff, they are words of abuse and hostility. He cares not who he harms, for he believes his own self-grandiosity, That he is exempt from morality and decency. The wreckage he causes never ceases to run over. Surely denial and despair shall follow him all the days of his life, and he will dwell in his own chosen insanity forever.
  2. In the field of stone and concrete Each day new frozen footsteps Trudge the reminder of his blood Into Oblivion. The jungle as if a tombstone Graceless wonder hiding forgotten names Faces carved in no one’s memory Those who lived and died Without a voice. How in any vision of reality Where the continuation of life and Threat of death being near the same Could the former be but stark emptiness The latter as a preferable end In an unmoving swirl of helplessness That eats away at the soul And erodes their will to live And the godless and self-proclaimed godly alike Turn their heads and turn away The sight of broken birds and fallen angels Gnawing at their lack of conscience To care. One more death, to them, is like Another dried leaf Crunched under sturdy boots of apathy And blown away in the wind.
  3. You and I, once Solitary travelers on this ship called Life, Meeting, embracing my deepest emotions and full belief That we were destined to be together and share the journey. How much can happen in an instant! Flesh-and-blood harmonizing in the briefest encounter As butterfly wings or the strength to move mountains Unable to foresee the tragedy ahead. I remember, as a girl, romanticizing death As if it were nothing but a shimmery poetic word Without the force of power to ever claim me Nor touch anyone else with its reality. Til now, I did not know! I did not realize! Til now, I did not see that the fragileness of Life In the shortest unseen moment-flash Can, in itself, cause eternity to become emptiness. My plans have changed. No longer do I wish to return to The place where I lived in days of joy and happiness, But for my ashes to be scattered where you died- For there, too, ended my hopes and dreams. I strain to hear your voice in the wind But you are not there. And I move silently thru the days As if the sunlight no longer exists, For it means nothing, holds nothing, in your absence And the flame of hope has been extinguished. The nights are darker, colder than ever before- Chilled by tears and unspoken words. No one understands. Still, as for so long, attempting to push and pull me In the direction of Elsewhere With not a concern as to where I’ve needed to be. In the past, not so long ago, I had such a fear of dying. But now it is different. Something inside tells me it is o.k. to let go, To pass peacefully, If to be able to take your hand. But as he made her promise to continue life To not give up, as I am pressed to do For my heart to stop beating, As their song played the refrain unforgotten An ache inside, rising, causing the chords to change To the haunting melody in the distance- ‘Nearer, My God, To Thee.’
  4. I thought she was joking... you mean she REALLY DIDN'T want to hear it again?
  5. Los del Rio was the original... then there's this:
  6. wooo, that's great!!!! p.s. you forgot the donuts
  7. hey, Claire has bubblegum and she isn't sharing
  8. yes, you'll find some interesting discussions on ulc.net
  9. huh? do you mean Canadian donuts are better than American donuts?
  10. writing...especially poetry... is like crafting one's thoughts and emotions into one's own personal design. not up for editing.
  11. You were the link in the chain of generations the last link, broken, before me. I have touched Mortality and see it is Myself— my turn, my number. But I am not ready to follow you into the winter and the end of days— not yet— For oh what a difference there has been you, who lived your life, full, never for self-gain or glory, but quiet, the inbetween as quiet-grace as your beginning and your end. I have tried to walk the footsteps the similar path, but faltering. I have not yet Lived I have not yet Had I have not yet done most of why I am here. For you, the fullness and entirety it speaks for itself— of a life lived not only long, but well. And I hope and pray that Time itself will not give up on me Causing the weight of unlived years to break This link in the chain.