Ok..These are some of my poems..I would really like to hear what you think of them, suggestions for improvements...whatever. So dont forget to sign my guestbook!
Unwilling Witness (9-13-01)
Dedicated to my friend Matt...stay safe (2-27-03)
I watched the flag rise toward the sun
Gleaming in the light
And then I watched it slowly lower
In time with the tear that fell from my eye.
I watched the banners sway in rhythm
With the songs the choir sung
And hoped to heaven there were angels
Singing right along.
I watched as thousands held hands and cried
I watched as people tried to hope
I watched as Freedom floated in the breeze
Lifted by the whispers of those who’d died.
I felt my heart fall and I felt my spirit soar
Mixed emotion , fear and sadness and hope….desperate hope.
And under all a burning pride
And passion and love.
And knew that those that stood with me felt what I was feeling
And I was in awe of the power of that knowledge of that unity.
But such an unwilling witness…
THE MASTER OF THE DEAD
I caught a glimpse of Death last night
His cold bones were a gleaming white.
His grinning face leered down at me,
an omen of what was yet to come
and what would cease to be.
His black, missing, seeing eyes
stared straight into my soul.
They made my flesh crawl;
they made my stomach roll.
He carried a golden watch in his bony grasp.
He opened the face and I remember,
it creaked on its rusted clasp.
He slowly shook his tattered hood,
and then he turned and fled.
And so ends my brief encoutner with
The Master of the Dead.
ANGEL'S TEARS UPON THE GLASS
Droplets flow down the window pane
an angel's tears upon the glass
how similar their tears to mine
I follow the raindrop's path with one finger
and with another trace the path that my tear made
as it coursed down my cheek
I close my weeping eyes
and lean my face upon the glass
Its coolness, caused by the raindrops
feels fresh upon my face
for my tears have made my cheeks flushed
and my eyes burn with sadness, anger and pain
I look through the pane and see the dark grey sky
the browning grass, the muddied Earth
stark sillhouettes of barren trees
showing through black against the misting rain
so beautiful in its simplicity.
As often, nature is more lovely in sadness than in joy
My tears still flow freely
and my soul writhes in its misery
I cry and cry 'til my eyes feel as though they will ignite
and my throat is sore from sobbing
when my anger is finally spent,
I sink to my knees in pure sadness
and rest my head upon the windowsill
for it seems that even cold and muddied nature
is less alone than I.
Not ready for rehab…
Your touch sets my nerves on fire…I like how it feels
Im addicted sick and wired
craving you wanting you
Knowing that I shouldn’t, not caring if I do
Dependant, addicted, hooked on you
Started off so innocent, just havin fun
In too deep and now I’m stuck I like it this way
Feels so right it cant be wrong
Trembling hands and racing heart every time you’re near
Just need one kiss to quench my thirst, cool my desire
Insatiable and wanting you whispering just try
Take a risk, lick your lips…
Let’s catch on fire..
Watercolor Effect
The angels cried for the lost souls
and rain splattered on the street,
and mingled with the pools of blood
creating a watercolor effect around peoples feet
People stood by while lights flashed red and blue
helpless bystanders,what could they have done?
there was nothing for them to do
trying to cover the still forms of the dead
the men in white scurried here and there
pulling shrouds over children whose faces
screamed that it just wasn't fair
Life! They shouted, Has just begun!
Dont let me die! There's so much ahead!
There's so much for me...I dont wantto be dead
They, the victims of society
victims of thousands of crimes
violence and hatred at the heart of them all
victims of the "progress" of times
could we not have stopped?
could we not have listened?
could we not have heeded their cry?
If only we could have...
If only we would have...
maybe the children wouldn't have had to have died.
I am constantly amazed by the human spirit, for it is no frail and faltering thing.
No matter how impossible the situation may seem, no matter how terrible and frightening the ordeal, the spirit can and will endure.
It is only at the point where you believe that you have reached your limit that you really begin to tap into the great well of strength that lies deep within.
It is this strength, this fire, this passion to succeed and live in the face of adversity that makes the human spirit shine with such startling brilliance and to be so incredibly unique in its power to carry on.
EYES OF THE DEAD
I see the eyes of the dead
opaque and staring out of the sunken head
The pale gray skin
slack jaw and chin
the Reaper's done his job well.
I can not begin to imagine being trapped in living hell
I am overwhelmed by the grief that I often see
The eyes that have cried until no tears appear
The blood that has dried and stained the earth
Is this inevitible death the only purpose of birth?
My questions go unanswered
for the dying can not speak what they know to be truth
and none of the living can even begin to imagine
to comprehend...to face..
to aknowledge the answer.
fear, my old friend, is back again
gnawing biting stirring the depths of my soul
into a storming cloud of unease
It oozes wetly out of my pores. coating my skin like paint...or blood.
clinging and wrapping me up in a shroud of anxiety.
fear, my old friend, is back again.
can other people see it as it eats me from inside
burns like acid through to the surface, leaving me empty
feeling hollow and afraid
on shaky ground and trembling limbs that feel like they will collapse
can they see that i'm not as strong right now as i'd like to be?
Can they see that inside me there is a frightened cowering little girl
who's crying sniveling and scared
I dont like her taking up residence in my mind...i wish she'd go away.
Her name is fear...she' s my old friend..
though unwanted, she's back again.
I thought I had evicted her.
Thought she'd packed her bags.
Thought I'd hidden her well.
She has to know I hate her,
has to know I dont want her here
but there she is and there she stays..
feasting and spreading through my mind.
Fear, my old friend, is back again...and so again i fight.
Look at me
way up high
Look at me
in the sky
Look at me
I can fly
OH no Wait
but it's too late
crashing down
to meet the ground
thats where my poor broken body's found
splintered and crushed
bruised and battered
ah poor me
all my spirits shattered
lying there like shards of glass
lying there flattening the grass
EXIT HAPPINESS
love is lost and hope is gone the world is gone astray Dreams died as people cried on happiness' last day The cost of power the price of greed The last law has been decreed The world will smoke The people will choke everything will die The whole world will cry There's no turning back now there's no chance for sudden reprieve We had a chance but no one would believe
ELIZABETH'S SONG
It was an obsession I devoured all the prose I drank up all the poetry I loved everything about them They fascinated my mind The suspense gripped my soul I read anything I could find Their strange tastes Their billowing capes Their cadaverous skin and fangs I fell in love with the very thought of their immortal power Their black hypnotic gaze wrenched me from reality Wrenched?Hell,I went willingly One day one of that clan came to me and took my hand He drew me close He smelled of carnations He leaned down and whispered in my ear "mortality bites" I became one of them my obsession became my reality Now I wander streets at night My eyes glittering black ice in their cold ire Watch out for me I'll be upon you before you know it I am a vampire *I wrote this for my best friend who has some weird fascination with the "undead"
1944 News Reel
once I went to a play the actors wore no make-up they used no fake props all their weapons were real I couldn't understand it it didn't seem quite right I closed my eyes and plugged my ears I didnt watch the play that night I hunkered down in my seat as blood trickled over the edge of the stage and onto the floor beneath my feet the coppery, cloyingly sweet smell filled my lungs and froze my heart when will this end I thought? why did it have to start? Finally the last foe was dead the victor stood and put his soiled and bloodied foot on his enemies head the curtain came down and the crowd filed out, sated, into town I still sat their crouched and shuddering in my plush chair I finally walked out into the cold night the blood still staining my feet and the smell still linering faintly sweet. *I wrote this poem in 1995...what I was trying to describe was the strange fascination that the majority of society has when they are viewing something terrible..the title, 1944 News Reel, is supposed to be alluding to WWII, a time when there was so much violence in our world. People would watch news broadcasts etc.. and think (just like our present day society does) "isn't that terrible...so much bloodshed." but they kept watching..not just to see the NEWS but to see the bloodshed and catastrophe as well. It is like when one drives by a car accident and "rubbernecks" to see if there are bodies. (dont shake your head at me! you KNOW people do it!) I later learned that there is actually a term for what I was trying to describe.. Schadenfreude, a feeling of pleasure caused by another's unhapiness or misforutne;malicious delight.
ANGELS AND WINGED HORSES
Is there a way out? Will i ever make it there? The reaching shadows tear at my eyes and tangle in my hair unseen enemies claw at my face it's cold in here this horrible, forsaken place I'm shaking and scared The reaper's chasing me Will my life be spared? His skeletal feet rattle on the floor His cape billows and flutters Everywhere, another locked door He's so close now His face, a black void,drawing me in Why do I deserve this? Did I commit some long-forgotten sin? His bony white fingers reach for my soul His touch is gentle but I am no longer whole Death be sweet Death be soft Angels and winged horses bear me to heaven's loft Dying Canvas
Deepest scarlet wells up and spreads thickly over pure white skin. Painting gruesome picures on a dying canvas Pictures that scream out in vivid detail about the depravity of it all. Running in rivulets down around the anguish filled eyes And the gaping, gasping, shrieking mouth, screaming out in terror and pain and against the rape of its youth. It runs down and drenches everything it touches Soaking it in a dark, sticky bath of scarlet that washes away innocence washes away childhood fantasies washes away all pure life And from beneath the glistening scarlet bath of death, the clouded, glazing eyes , still round in their youth but infinitely old in their expression look out and say to all those strong enough to meet their gaze. "Was it you? Was it you that did this to me? Was it you that stole away my life? No....I understand. It was not Your fault, but that of your world. The world of adults. The unfeeling society your fathers created Do not cry for me.. Perhaps it is better this way. Perhaps it is better that I die quickly now rather than live slowly in your cold, friendless world. At least in Death I will find a peace that I could never have had in the society that you would have left for me to inherit.
Day Dreams of Yesterday When I was a child I had many dreams When I was a child the Sun always shone and I was never cold. Nothing ever happened No one ever hurt and TIME... seemed to go so very slowly was...suspended....animation I can recall images from so very long ago Ray filled days of playing in the sand where every common rock was buried treasure and precious gems Days where I was a princess.. a gypsy dressed in fine robes of silk and velvet and glittering diamonds waiting for my handsome prince to rescue me from the dragons that came when the sun faded away No prince ever came and my treasures became dusty pebbles the robes of silk and velvet..nothing more than old clothes from decades long ago the diamonds became plastic toys only the dragons took on new meaning and became more real My day dreams faded away as the cold sleet of cynicism and disbelief coated my mind and made my soul cold The icy constraints of society have frozen my thoughts and slowed my imagination. I can not recall any recent days of uncomplicated happiness days where i have been at peace with myself and sure of the security of my world i am successful i am proud i accept my station in this cold world But what would i give.. what would i pay to spend one Single Hour in those warm daydreams of yesterday.
Tears for a Stranger Tears like dewdrops lie on the roses of her cheeks But she can cry no more All her tears are spent, dried up As she cradles the child bleeding on the pavement He's not her child Nor does she know who he is. The child is old, not quite a child....not quite a man. In his mind he thought he was a man... Thought no one could hurt him..no one could penetrate his shell and no One could...but something did. cold steel that shot flames into his lung and released his soul with a great rush of breath She was walking late at night and stumbled upon his almost lifeless self with a small cry she knelt in his blood and held his hand as he whispered memories about his childhood the one that he left behind She wiped his tears with her dress and cried with him and for him The dying stranger The dying child The dying almost-man She wept great tears for his ended life and for every other child whose life has stained the streets.
Voyeur
I watched it happen and yet, I did nothing. I did not move or speak. I watched the black clad stranger creep in and steal softliy into the room where the child lay. I stood still staring as the stranger looked down upon the child and watched her sleep. AS his gaze roamed over her cherublike face, flushed with sleep, with its small mouth perpetually curved in uncomplicated happiness and her golden curls framed her face like a halo. The stranger licked his lips with desire. I stood still staring ast he stranger sat beside the child and lay his hand upon her chest. I made no move to stop him. With his icy fingers he reached deep into her heart and withdrew the light from within her soul. The life, the joy, the imagination and the happiness were extinguished just like that. What was once so vivid was, like the stranger, gone without a trace. I stood by and did Nothing! How could I have?Why didnt I help? Why did I just stand by?? Was it cowardice..or something else, something more sinister, voyeurism, in my heart? The child awoke and saw herself, grown suddenly old and frail,with greying hair and hardened heart, not even a shadow of her former self. She cried great heartwrenching sobs for what she lost and could not regain. I finally made a move to her side to comfort her, I dont know, as if aiding her now would erase the sin of my hesitance before. I saw her face clearly then and as I looked into her eyes, searching for something to say, I saw myself looking back in shocked disbelief. For she was I and I was she and we were one in the same. The child I had seen was myself and the stranger, disillusionment and reality. 'Twas then that I too began to cry.
Paint of Life
They wash each other frantically, but the stains forever cling. she mumbles incoherently as seh tries to stand. She fumbles through the darkness and trips over a lifeless hand she falls to the ground and begins again to weep over the body of the man on the ground the man she sent to eternal sleep She feels the pool of life puddling on the floor and laughs as she remembers his cry of surprise how easily he fell to the ground when she sliced the knife through his skin and still laughing she uses her own skin as canvas and with his blood begins to paint.
Man's Power
Man took his child to show it his world. He spread his arms wide and said..
Look child! See what we can do! Once useless trees and hills stood there; we leveled and replaced them with great towers of steel and concrete. We have the power to block out the sun with the smoke our factories make. So productive are we.
If we so choose, we can even destroy everything in our world. We have the intelligence to create that which can destroy us. But we have the strenght to control its force. Be proud of what you are child!! You are inheriting the most awesome power in existance! You are mankind and mankind is great beyond comprehension! Man looked at his child for the child was quiet. His child was looking away from Man's city and towards the setting sun. Never a more beautiful site had the child ever witnessed. The sky was painted with the brightest purest colors that were possible to imagine. Deep reds, orange, yellow and delicate pinks. A great masterpiece painted on the widest canvas of sky. And the sun a golden orb of fire, sinking slowly to sleep amazed the child. And he looked at the man and asked in innocence.."Father, can we make that happen again? Can Man do that?"
And Man was silent
What I want….
Good question… I want a guy who will give me space…but I want a guy who’ll hold me close. I want a guy who will make decisions…but I want a guy who will let me lead. I want someone who thinks of me when he’s not around me. I want a guy who can be on his own.. I want someone who will tell me how much he cares…but I want someone who is strong and quiet sometimes. I want someone who loves horses.I want someone who wants to travel…who wants to see the world…but I want someone who will be content sitting on our own front porch watching the sunset. I want someone who will spend 2 hours on one cup of coffee and talk about nothing and everything at the same time. I want him to understand the importance of duty and honor and honesty. I desperately want him to love life and to take joy in the world around him. I want someone who will look at me and think that I’m as amazing as I think he is. I never want to look at him and not feel this amazing wonderful feeling of being so proud and so incredibly happy that he picked ME… I want someone who has made mistakes…I want him to have experience in life but yet I want him to approach things with a sense of wonder. I want him to be able to fix things…but also to be able to admit that he cant fix everything. I want him to argue with me, I want him to yell and I want him to slam doors…but I want him to stay and finish out the fight…I want that passion and that commitment. I don’t want someone who isn’t stubborn…I don’t want to be able to manipulate him. I want someone who loves my family. Someone who enjoys spending time with my sister because she is the light of my life.. I want someone who is successful and appreciates my success and comforts my failures. I want someone who believes in God and has faith. I want someone who will tease me and joke around with me and will keep me from taking life too seriously. I want to look at him every day and see this wonderful amazing person that I fell in love with and every flaw and imperfection in him…I want to see the cracks and fissures and also the perfectness and wonderfulness and I want to love him anyway and even more…because of them. More than anything else…I want him to look at me and see all those same qualities in me…and love me for them.
LOOK AT ME
Princess.....© 1997,
Marty
Fancher/KeyTrax Productions Inc.
