Make me cry

GOD'S CONSCIENCE?-3

Brian had addiction clawing at him,
way before me.We'd often laugh at him
nodding out in public.
I think the last thing I said to him was
"Go to sleep you fucking lush"

and he did...

with never a chance of waking up

WAITING FOR OUR WINGS TO DRY.

I've seen violence.
Oh have I seen carnage.
Human body bonfires.
Women stabbed in their genitals.
The castration of men.
Innocent children slaughtered.
Oh yes...I have seen much.
You become a magnet for pain,
when you've been exposed to it so.
You start being able to read the eyes
with precision...Define the hurt.
Behind everyone's eyes,
is their lifetime movie"REAL".
The things we try to hide inside,
the eyes can never seal.
There is so much to absorb...
You can never get away from it.
It falls with the rain.
Rides on the wind.
The heat brings it up from the earth.
There isn't any escape.
You just have to learn to cope.
Stay away from people.
But even then...
Amongst all the heavy memories.
The stench of suffering.
Something is tattooed on the front of my mind.
While walking a beach,I saw it on a stone.
It was a Monarch butterfly.
Patiently waiting in a ray of sun,
for its wings to dry...
Only they were not wet.
They were mangled beyond any chance of healing.
The Monarch had no idea it was doomed.
It must have flown miles over the water.
Only to be crushed by the waves.
I couldn't fight the tears,
as I brought my foot down upon it.
It had been years since I last cried.
It was this that did it...
This perfect metaphor of a human life.
A beautiful creature,that hasn't any idea,
of such a close demise.
Sitting in the comfort of our own control.
Not knowing we will never be able to"fly"
We are all just waiting for our wings to dry.



Written by jaspersilence

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Love has turned its back on me as every depressing moment draws near I grow more empty I've lost my mind and still have no care in the world I feel no need to move on I have every thing explored my body has failed me also my mind therefore I have no means to try to cry yet I still feed this shell of mine everyday is a mask that looks like I care but I know at the end day no ones going to be there its lifes blissful minds of a broken thought that try's to survive when in fact its a empty man that never got true love back that suffers from a heart that is painted in black

Air Earth Fire and Water
My soul had reached the end of its journey
my best friend passed away and my heart reached the Disciple
to who he belonged. The tears my heart latched on where
beggin for his soul to go to heaven and not the boiler
where he would have to work so hard to begin forgiveness for his sins.
Darkness took complete control of my soul my heart in pain felt empty and I rememebered everything that little boy lived for.
His soul joined heaven in the celestial light and me I was certain he had just gotten baptised. I his best friend saw nothing heard no evil in real life. His celestial bed awaits for him to greet the children of God.
I went to the house of Jesus and an Apostle told me he was yelling out my name. I have been practising Grace. And the deliverance was fate.
When you let go of your soul to the higher grounds of order,
your spirit travels to the one most open for acceptance and most gracefull.
That day of unity, me and my best friend where one and she will never be put in a tunnel with no air, I will give him Air every
day by blessing his soul with Earth and her friends Fire, Water, AIr.
Earth Fire Water Air
Thomas I bless you for the sun and pray for you every day. God Bless you.
Greetings to the apostles who carry my star, Rock n Roll Razor ACT 2013

...Can't Live Without You...

Lungs filled with the weightless smoke
Inhaled through lips
Blackened by the pure white smoke.
The cigarette burns out much like his passion
Or lack thereof.

His hand used to hold her hand, leading her through obstacles in life
Which she couldn’t walk alone
His lips used to kiss those which he cherished dearly
His lungs filled with the scent of her sweet perfume
Which sugar coated his mind and helped him to relax
His fingers used to run through her hair, when she woke each morning
To push back her silky hair to see his treasure
And every morning as he woke and looked at her face
His heart became the festival of lights, celebrating the joys of love
And beauty that drowns his soul.

Until one morning came when the festival left
With no intentions of return
He watched as she became a victim of a drunk driving accident.

And now with his passion gone, he sits on that park bench
Pulls out a cigarette with the same hands he used to hold her
Holds the cigarette with the same fingers he ran through her hair
Takes a drag with his lips, which was meant only for hers…

Smoking is not cool anymore
Smoking is used for those with broken hearts,
Trying to commit suicide in the slowest possible way…

Congratulations blocat on such a gut wrenching write.  

Salud