Stripped Sunset

Fallen angels make for a pretty metaphor
but they were useful only before
and today we find ourselves
laid as old books in dusty shelves.

Worn out and tired, bitter in the end
A story that scrapes the skin as if made of sand.
Our bleeding knees are on the floor,
The father figure is at the door.

If one day we can make our escape,
Relegating all that we once knew and once had,
Burning the mattress as we lay on the bed,
My sweet butterfly, I fear we might
die.

Lovely Love

Love is a scary, scary thing
and yet is worth the praise that all songs sing.
Love holds all cards close to the heart -
It sees in every end a new start.

A sloppy rhyme and a lack of rhythm,
love does not mind because beauty
love will always find.

Poetry in the dark

You used to know me so well,
my spots and stripes,
the darkness in which I dwell.

But as time passed and we changed,
as the pictures on the wall,
it was all rearranged.

Now we lie here in bed.
like two strangers
that have already met.

From the Machine; God

Expected perfection out of me
But they just couldn’t see that
I couldn’t hold the world in place
And thus I fell into eternal disgrace.

They undressed me with their eyes,
Saw my flaws and built the lies.
I shouted for them to let me go,
Sever the chord, cut all the ties.
They only stared me dead in the face
And told me to know my place.

Twogether

Born without a clue
of who is who,
I’ve learned it’s easy to know
it is you.

Life is an adventure
one needs not brave alone.
But you better be careful
With who you bring home.

I’ll help ’cause
it is easy to show,
Who is right and who
has to go.

It is all in how you greet,
and how you stand
in the rain.

If you can say goodbye
And you don’t wanna say hello
Than they gotta go.
They gotta go.

If a goodbye cannot be cast
And ‘hello’ has so long ago been said
That you don’t remember ever being apart,
She’s got you by the heart.

Allitergator

Love is in a cornerstore
being a cornerstone
a little too late a little too monotone.

Love is in the air
all cheap and debonair,
kinda quick, kinda unfair.

Love is not any of this,
Not yours, not his.
It is a bit crass, it is
a stumbled upon kiss.

Love is a little too much alliteration
giving in to too much of a little temptation.
Even if too little a little too late, too late
Too little too late – a day off the date.

We Became Graffiti

Shadows play down the street
Casting themselves protagonists;
Clock-less and free
As any free man
can be.

They glide from brick to brick
As the sun shines and the sunset shifts.
Memories that we’ll never miss,
it is our outline on the wall,
After all.

Depravation

Your mouth smiles
At my perverted thoughts,
Arced lips stretching afar,
Nobody knows who we really are.

You laughed once when faking the truth,
You laughed twice when they told you
To laugh no more.
Then we both laughed
And our cheeks got sore.

Cold feet is not a problem;
We will just warm up in the bed.
Nothing left to be said.

Let’s just go ahead and show
our whimsical and twisted
smiles.

Cause & Effect

Cold metal on nude skin…
No matter how thickheaded
Lies are always so thin.

I’ve seen your mind wander
With others, no wonder.
Cheating on your sleep
With thoughts that creep.

Menacing eyes accuse me
for your very own disgrace
But you are just saving face.

Love for us is a verb
Stuck in the past tense.
Right now, love makes no sense.

Good People

Took the high road
Over and over again.
Seems noble to endure the pain.

The mirror shows the only me
anyone knows.
A reflexion of flesh with no soul,
Another corpse with no goal.

Of this high road they talk
But only few dare to walk.
Seems noble
But it is just rubble.

Become What I’ve Been

He schemes and he plans,
he finds an answer only he understands.
It shall take one year before he can leave without fear.

But he will still be afraid
of losing himself in this charade.
Blood, sweat and tears.

He dreams today of that of yesterday,
of that which only the free can.
Time shall give him a chance.
So enjoy, the last free dance.

He will carve the path
For those that come last
So his children can look back and see
That he lived and died free.

Sin City

They tried to chain me up and throw away the key. Enslave me and kill my spirit.
Bastards.

I choked them with the very chains they tried to use, peering into their lifeless eyes as the realized their situation, gasping for an air they could not have it. Maybe now this means I’m a criminal and seeing as how I feel no regret, I might even be considered a psychopath. So be it.

Living in a forsaken city such as this one doesn’t really entice fighting for what is right nor for freedom and when crooks are the lawmakers, is abiding by the law right at all?

All I know is that I had scores to settle and someone was going down tonight and it was either me or him. I’m sure as hell that it will be him.