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Susan Brown
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Erin Rhodes
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Strange Wishes
by Walter Jones (Age: 63)
copyright 09-03-2005


Age Rating: 13 to 127

 
Willful site

Burning fear

lives in the

ground



Nary a tear is found



Singing voice

screams out,

fleeting pleasure

from the high

gobbles up

the sound



Old shout is bound



Silver moon escapes

from a burning bed

like embers

in the wrath

of a child screaming

in his head



Evil is dread escapes instead



For days and years

he plays with this sound

a crying disciple of goal



Burns free in the pyrite bowl



The love

that is neverfound

his path is riddled

with anguish

just on the

other side



Selfless dove dies from pride



Few if any can

resolve the hatred

buried inside

a troubled life



Flames fan the knife



Death that is

played its song

early in his life

took more than

the child

it also took

his wife



Sold as his all their strife



Shallow shell

of life filled

form moves

from day to day

in the more or less

he hears the word

she never will say.



She plays the fife even today



Marker in the dead

cemetery burns

a hole inside

he walks the path

between

sanity and pride.



Feelings feed still they hide



Hand in hand

wander each

in hell lived

sorrow screams

in night sweats

soft kisses he gives



Ponder visions yet they live





Dawn leaves

nightmares in

their place

but the pain

anguish take

their place.



Deceived by the human race



Each step one that is forced

each day

a monument to grief.

Guilt rides a never

ending ‘what if’ excuse



All thought gives over use



That cries out

internal damnation

Flames burn

the soul from inside out



Journal records without



Days turn around in his bed

he sees her but she makes not a sound.



Dead is the cry found



Candles lit soft prayers

escape lips

the couple moves forward

all the smiles and well wishes



Just a turn about sweet kisses



Return to their hell

on the street,

more children buy the gift

of a life they try to escape



just a pawn it is too late



Cannot measure up

to the expectations

the drugs their life takes

He leaves her sleeping at home



Blows out his brains


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Comments on this Article/Poem:
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09-08-2005 Regina Pate    

I had to read this a few times to understand what you were talking about. I don't understand the way you write yet so I don't know if you have typos or if you meant to do that, I will have to read more of you work to know. I only have one thing I must say. This came to mind as I read you words, - Oh that I had in the wilderness a lodging place of wayfaring men; that I might leave my people, and go from them. Jeremiah 9:2
Good Job. I really like it.


09-04-2005 Roger Crique    

Sorry, I meant, 'Many people sell their soul to....'


09-04-2005 Roger Crique    

Very powerful imagery of a perverted or perhaps overloaded mind, walking but not awake to his turmoil, not aware of his inner implosion. Many people their soul, to vice, money and illusion, to end up in a state of despair, in a quandary, between the living and the dead!


Visitor Reads: 463
Total Reads: 483
Comments: 3

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