Viva la Rebellion
I can’t tell if it’s me that is broken or if it’s the world that is broken or if my head is stuck in a box. Or maybe the box is all in my head and I can’t escape because the box makes more sense than the world.
Or maybe we’re all just a bunch of broken pieces scattered in a melee of confusion, trying to connect, yearning to transform into an enchanted castle on a hill, fortified with wisdom and built with enduring love.
Guilt, shame, blame. I go through the motions then go back to bed. I can’t turn back and I can’t move forward. This pain in my gut is boiling over.
Fool me once shame on you. Fool me a thousand times and I lost my point of view. How many times can I endure your love? The bane of my existence is my surrender to your…
I… Can’t… Breathe when I think of all the times you shat upon my heart. Maybe this time it sounds a lot better but what is better what all you know is hurt? And I hate the way I feel most times. No words can fill that cup. I drink then I get drunk then I plant face into the dirt.
The delusions of mankind are like shards beneath my feet, bruises on my skin, a fight that I can’t win. I’m drowning in a winepress of narcissistic hate. Peddled out to foolish trolls drunk on hurt and fame.
They stomp it out, then bottle it up, and pass it off as love. But the mess that’s left behind is all but brushed under the rug.
The fruit of the vine that keeps on giving, never stops, it carries on. When everything is taken, new life begins to grow. Gathered into compost, scattered in the fields, feeding all the new vines for generations yield.
So you can throw me in the winepress of narcissistic hate. You can take what’s worth the giving and leave the rest to fate. But beware of the delusion that you’re the one in charge as you sip upon my vengeance and blackout in the yard.
Dear Sweet Maria,
If every famous love quote were compiled into a song, my love for you would remain unsaid. Your passion sets me off into a frenzy of incoherent jitterbugs. Your strength in the forefront of repetitive injury can only be described as the spirit of grace.
When you fall, you get back up with thrice the wisdom you had before. And even when you fall again, I have no doubt you will endure.
I am twitterpated by your beauty, not just the cover, but the book that lurks beneath. If you ever gave up on dreaming the Earth would tremble in despair.
Eternal Love,
Maria
Tainted memories, faint and bitter sweet. Tossed to the wolves, lost with the sheep. Picking up the pieces but I got nothing left to own. Taped out long before I knew the life that leads to love.
If living were an art form, and love were the coveted prize; my canvas is a heaping pile of confettied hearts and lies.
Love is more than a hollow phrase
Undying devotion is True Love’s appraise
Unfailing Love is a solemn troth
Better to be sure than to break your oath
When love is like the morning mist,
Like the early dew that can’t persist
Amongst the sun’s immortal rays
Then vaporize
Wreak cloudy days
Broken hearts
A stream of tears
Staunch bitterness
And rampant fears
Then love is nothing but a joke
You’ll love to hate until you croak
Love is Power
And True Power is Love
But Power itself is void thereof
There is no Love in a powerful one
For Power is subjugation for everyone
Power and Love are add odds with each
With Love ALL Power will soon decrease
When the Power of Love defeats the Love of Power
Then there will be Peace
The road to rest is lost in flames
I wonder if we’re gonna make it through
The mere thought of you could carry me on
Through everything, Your love is true
Rainy days are a summer’s breeze
When your love is all I breath
So sick from your pheromones
Here we go
Stung right from my heart
Where’s the antidote?
Blat Blat
My mind is all blasted out
Point me to the nearest
Way to the hospital
Stop stop
You make me so, Make me so
Gimme some sugar
Before you go, Fore you go
Stop stop
You make me so, Make me so
Gimme some sugar
Before you go, Fore you go
“There is so much hurt in this game of searching for a mate, of testing, trying. And you realize suddenly that you forgot it was a game, and turn away in tears.” And your tears turn to anger, and your anger turns to hate. And you become so bitter, the salt in your veins can’t mask the scowl on your face.
My advice for active alcoholics is…
If you’re seeing in ones
You’re good
If you’re seeing in twos
You’re a little bit tipsy
If you’re seeing in threes
You might do something you will regret
If you’re seeing in fours
GOD BLESS
