poem/poetry book

[3dnightshade]

ok these ar abomonations but I thought I should see if I could blind you with them, lol twisted rofl

pain hidden with in:
what do they see when they look at me?
that boy happy and care free,
but do they know what lurks inside?
that battered broken soul,
you cant consoul.
no treasure no pleasure hidden with-in
only pain and degrated sin
60 asprins:
60 asprins kill the pain
60 asprins drive me insane
60 asprinshelp me regain broken inosance.
this life is just a pretence to the next,
but will it be worse once its begun?
maybe Ill just stay in Summer Land with the Moon & Sun.  

[3dnightshade]

thought I should post these so no one got confused, an plus these are two of my favorite poems.

Ballad of Birmingham by Dudley Randall
"mother dear, may I go down town
instead of out to play,
and march the streets of Birmingham
in a freedom march today?"

"no, baby, you may not go,
for the dogs are fierce and wild,
and clubs and hoses, guns and jails
arent good for a little child."

"but mother I wont be alone.
other children will go with me,
and march the streets of birmingham
to make our country free."

"no baybe you may not go,
for I fear those guns will fire.
but you may go to church instead
and sing in the childrens choir."

she has combed and brushed her
night black hair,
and bathed rose petal sweet,
and drawn white gloves on her small
brown hands,
and white shoes on her feet.

the mother smiled to know her child,
was in a sacred place,
but that smile was the last
to come upon her face.

for when she heard the explosion,
her eyes grew wet and wild.
she raced through the streets of Birmingham,
calling for her child.

she clawed through bits of glass and brick,
and lifted out a shoe.
"oh heres the shoe my baby wore,
but, baby where are you?"

"Hope" is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson,
"Hope" is the thing with feathers-
that perches inthe soul-
and sings the tune with out the words-
and never stops-at all-

and sweetest-in the gale-is heard-
and sore must be the storm-
that could abash th litle bird
that ket so many warm.

Ive heard it in the chillest land-
and on the strangest sea-
yet never in extremity,
it asked a crumb-of me.  

[3dnightshade]

well I thought the book should have these two poems though they were not written by guild members they were written by some of the sadest ppl I have ever heard of. espesialy Emily Dickinson, she was very depresed, poor woman.  

[Serenity Espara]

[Why Not Die]

Why live, when you know you'll die.
Why live in the torture of today and tommorrow.
Why let them hurt you, why not die and bring mercy to you.
Why live in a world with a god that doesn't agxist.
Why live with the murderers and ganster out for revenge.
Why not just die.
Why not just die, with me by your side.
Why not just die with me in an everlasting happiness.
Why not, why not.
Why not just die, so they can't hurt US any more.
"Because the person that hurt us will be there when we die, for, remember he shot himself"
Why, I know that, but we'll be in a different heaven, since there are many, because there is no god.
Why not die with me, my dear cousin.
 

[drake fukiyamo]

Song of tears.

Many tears, tear the heart in two.
Screaming loudly, nothing i can do.
Voice on the phone, never again heard.
Feelings forgotten, with out a word.

Who are you, to take my heart,
to grip it tight, and tear it apart.
you left a hole nothing can fill.
But even now, i miss you still.

All alone, room door locked.
my life shattered, my world rocked.
Sobbing in my pillow, unable to sleep.
hurting inside, wounded deep.

Who are you, to take my dream,
smash it to bit, i wanna scream.
to my core is where you hurt me.
but even now, i miss you deeply.

Song of tears, too long buried.
Hole in my heart, too long carried.
Dreams that were shattered, made anew.
But i will never forget you.

Quote:

this song is about the worst day of my life, when the one person i had thought would never let me fall, left me. That person was my adoptive mother, Ellen.

 

[ArwensLover]

i was told i should post this in here..i dont think its that good...its called What you've done


When I was hurt you picked up the peices,
and put them back together.
You are the Soul resposible for making me complete,
the one responsible for turning pain into joy.
Then in one greedy moment of anger,
you took it all away.
Now all thats left
are the peices of a broken life,
and a shattered heart.
In my greatest moment of need,
you turned your back one me
as the rest of the world has down so many times,
I'm naive to think I've found a friend,
someone who understands my hidden anguish.
But in the end instead of healing my bloody and salted wounds,
you tore them open wider,
and drew fresh blood.

Are you proud of what you've done?



(not sure if i want it in the book, i'll repost if i do)