Thank you
A child so out of place,
Yet you still gave me a happy face.
Out of the gray I heard your voice sing;
The black hole son took me under his wing.
From then on you were my friend.
I never thought it would so soon end.
You were one who showed me how to live with the electric beauty that you would so freely give.
Your words rage of a healing power that can turn the coldest of rains into a bright sun shower.
And on my darkest night you bring the light with your euphoria morning
To honor you, I refuse to keep you in mourning.
I'll not let my heart stay broken.
You will live on in the light that you turned into words so mightily spoken.
You helped me to heal and you showed me that it was ok for me to be real.
And so now as sure your spirit flies high in the skies, I will live and I will rise.
Thank you
warriors
good against evil.
the stories we live as real:
phoenix feather in wands
out of black fire hope
deformed into siblings desire
the real multi-story:
charred concrete rebar buckled
under a thin skin cloth
wrapping the living in a funeral pyre
the crowds branded bear flaming torches
"retire retire"
in the hunt for the monster of brands
Corporation is a many logo homicide
corpses trail the greed
slavery
poisoned
starved
phantoms that live for one creed. Wealth.
dark shadows papers paint as evil
Islam right to left
Christian left to right
where are the warriors. we are the warriors that
put their lives down for lies
fight one another because of lies
difference themselves with lies
no more . skies are smudged black
a windowless tower makes howls
in the wind where bodies rest melted into it
denial and rage of suffering bonds all skin shackled by evil corporations
founded by our Law
the land is ours and the Law only
that we agree to be subjects of
in freedom
Grab fire. Run in the streets and in peace bring light to shine on the truth
there is no magic wand in this story
but out of the fire
new weapons will be forgedin our history
we are the warriors it is our battle.
councillors, ministers, officers should walk amongst us not ahead or
hovering above us.
that darkness of oppression. hanging threat is filled with our own Phoenix from
the embers of a burning stone
the monster is out of control and the state that made it. knows it.
we are the warriors. walk with us
Who am I? My mother says I am her amazing, mature young person. My teachers say I am a responsible, quiet student. My classmates say I am a genius, or crazy. But, who am I really? I don't actually care that much for rules. I do wish I would let myself flirt. I don't love being alone as much as I say. I often want to yell back in class. I'm not sure I'm a genius. I am not as brusque as I sometimes act, or as friendly. Am I insane or just strange? Would I know if I was? When all is said and done, who am I?
The Boy Who Never Was #twistedtales
“Evil. Evil memories are all I carry now. Old tales of a selfish boy, no more no less.” I tell the little sandy haired boy who sits on my lap.
“But please Grandma, tell me the whole story!” He mused, clearly wondering more and more about her adventures to a place far far away.
“Okay,” she whispered, “but you can’t interrupt. Deal?”
“Deal!” he giggled out. So I pulled him up and onto my lap further, to begin telling him the story of the boy I wished never was.
“One night, when I was very young, a thin blonde haired boy crept into my room. He came through the window. I was still up, because little Michael had a terrible dream. We, we didn't hear him at first, all it sounded like was wind creeping in through the windows. I knew better, the moment I heard a little bell like sound, I knew something weird was going on. That's when I saw the shadow, slowly creeping further and further up the wall. Then BAM he jumped out at me and covered mine and little Michaels mouth, we tried to scream, but he didn't let us. He offered to take his hands away, in return that we did not scream. We shook our heads yes, and his hands were slowly removed. He told us his name was Peter, then he called out the word tink. By then, John was starting to stir, I remember hoping so hard that he wouldn't scream when he woke up. To my luck, he did not. Peter tied us up, and told us that we were now his Neverland slaves. After that, the little fairy dressed in a green dress then sprinkled dust on us, two different colors. Later we discovered that one was to make us fly, and one was to make us forget. Peter then brought us to Neverland, where I prefer not to talk much about, as it it too terrifying to remember. Although, I have memories of him always making me do things, very awful things. If I told him I would not, I was punished. Stuck in a cage, most of the time there in a cold smelly cellar. Let me tell you, it was all awful. All I hope, is to forget. Never again shall that boy be again. That's, why I tell you to always keep your windows locked. Never to open, we will never know the true evil that hides in the dark. Boy, remember always, what Grandma tells you, for she is wise in her time and age….”