Nothing Scares An Enemy More.

Than A Person Who Keeps Smiling And Trying.

Despite His Enemies Best Efforts.

To Try And Stop Him From Succeeding.

©Alipoetry, All Rights Reserved.

#poetry #Life #quotes #fiction #motivational #inspirational

if you like to see the video of this poem, visit my youtube channel. shorturl.at/tR369

With autumn, I'm a quiet thing, 

the skirt of fog trailing as

engines whine alive. Go find me

among the grinning burs, restless 

with some tale of me; in 

cyclones of dust; my kiss 

on every balmy blade of grass and 

blushing leaf. 

One day, I will shake the bones out of these trees. 

I know that you want more from me.

But today I watch the red sun 

between seams of rain clouds, curled 

up in some spot of warmth, a 

quiet thing with autumn - let me sleep. 

Under the gibbous moon

my shadow splits in twain

I'm in a race

insane, my heart cries in vain

Used to be a good girl once

the world mistook my kindness

for weakness—

See now, what I've become

cold and callous I suppose

By myself, I cannot judge

I have tasted the maggots

in the meats you gave me

smelled the blood in the wine

tartrate in fragrant milk

that my children sucked from my breast

I'll sink into languor...

Commend me to death with your poisons,

disguised as passions

And as I reach for death

—instead of death fetching me

throw your triumphant arms around my withering frame

As chills of doom prevail over me

transfer your warmth

to my adipocerous corpse

You might —just might

prevent Armageddon, a war of maggots

in my within...

The clouds will be arrayed in gray

as I die!

Wound not a shroud upon my body

let me lie there beneath the rainbow light

when the moon dies in the sky

your time too— in the world will be done

You mistook my kindness

for weakness,

but the world is full of maggots

supping your marrow

wrapping your merry face in sorrow

as you did me with poison

With terror their leeching

slowly diffusing in your within

your eyes'll open then

you'll see the world differently

Perhaps you'll run as I did

racing your own shadow

If only time could be bent

to suit our needs, would you?

Would you remember to put a smile back upon my face

would your memory return music to the wind

would you mend every suffering you've inflicted

would you reopen closed doors

and with your open eyes see what lingered behind

O! But that's a mischance

look what we've become

mere shadows split in twain

then halved again...

O—we, slaves of each other

never did we learn from another

now we wilt into nothing together

Our blood dabble dunes and sands

The stains of our regretful end

no more could be said of us

other than those soft sorrowful requiems

muttered by priests in soft tones

It ends here, my dear

now could it be said that we lived

or was it all an illusion– all of it!

my thread is coming loose

it keeps my brain from spilling

out

of my thick cotton head which is 

which was intact

until this moment

do i need help

i dunno

maybe

i am sure i cannot manage on my own

my brain power is sapping

physically weakening

mentally barely there

i am unravelling 

cloak flying off 

skirt flying off

hat off

twirling dervish

that is my mind

how i wonder what a

bare mind comes down 

to

do i need help?

maybe i

need to raise my arms up to you?

what will i hold my spilling brains

with then?

Her inner demons are raging,

Struggling to break free.

Hungry for lust,

Thirsting for ecstacy,

Coveting for a voice,

Once considered as white noise

Barb wires cover her soul

Imprisoning her buried lucifer

Weary of norms that decipher

Good and evil.

Its time to rebel,

And wage hell.

Angels hushes the roaring spirits,

Chastises the fallacious calling,

Reminds her of the image

Of purity she portrays.

Recalling her innocent ways.

Evil ramblings turn to a whisper,

But fury in her eyes still linger,

Another day...

Another time...

I am a poem

Written line by line

One stanza at a time

My life, a message

Penned on a page of time

Metered out in verse and rhyme

Puzzle with the metaphor of me

Compare your life and mine

Seek for its message and its sign

If I am the message

What will my missive be

On the mortal page of me?

When the final line is read

Let them hear and see

The Author of this poem...

...Who wrote to you through me

He has a keepsake box,

though it's hard to find

Because it's hidden deep

in the corner of his mind

She left it there with him

Along with the kids

Stuffed with pain more potent

than caustic acids

Master of feigning strength

The hurt rarely shows

But through the box seeps

Cries of his sorrows

I'm not the only one

Close enough to hear

Yet I feel like his pain

Falls only to my ear

I see the keepsake box

He tries so hard to hide

Because I have my own box

Lurking deep inside

Buried in the darkest

Corner of my heart

So deep that from this box

I will never part

He still has a chance

To be rid of his box

To clear out all the hurt

Before the latch locks

If I could, I would surely

Rip the box lid out

Free feelings of fear

Cast away all his doubt

Then I'd refill the box

With everything good

Bring millions of smiles

To his face if I could

But this is a feat

I can't do on my own

And one that he shouldn't

Have to battle alone

I don't mind the drive

And I'm not scared of work

I'll help where I can

Even when he's a jerk

And as long as he wants

Our friendship to be

He won't fight alone

Cause he'll always have me

Padlocked in a golden cage,

With the keys in my hand.

This is my chance  to flee,

To take my stand.

And conquer a new found land.

But,

the fear of the unknown cripples  me,

I look through the peephole

And what I  see,

A world of empty souls,

Produced from the same mold

Of  greed,envy and deceit.

Living pretentious,

How did they get to this feat?

Tarnished by reality,

Bewildered by the brutality,

I return to live in solitary...

In a golden cage,

Until the end of age.