Daily Archives: March 17, 2012

Those Who Write On the Line (Picture it and write #13)


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http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2012/03/18/__picture-it-write-blind-sight-edition-2/

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War is printed in black and white
On a sheet before us now.
War is before us, upon our desk,
All we must do is bow
Forward and list our name,
Stating our favor to play such a game
As war.
War is such a short little word.
A single syllable, three little letters.
War is twelve point Times New Roman
War is centered, bolded font.
War is written as a short essay,
An essay exclaiming a simple question:
Yes or no?
Do or don’t?
Whether we will or won’t
depends on a few short names
Signed on a line.
And many lines
Fill with names
Of supporters of the game
As many lines
Are formed to play.
War is simple.
A yes or no question,
A one point exam
Surrounding millions of lives.
War is a paper
That leaders sign.
War is easy
For those who write on the line.


I Breath


I breath
I feel
Reality stings in my fingertips
I hurt
I heal
I breath and carry on
I sleep
I ache
I wake in transfixed silence
I grind
I break
I resuscitate
I crash
I burn
I learn from mistakes
and hopes misplaced
I think
I drink
From my fountain of youth
I think I am bulletproof
I cut
I bleed
I need support
So I contort
I breath
I feel
Reality stings,
Comfortless dreams
surround my transfixed silence.
As I lie awake,
Many breaths I take,
My panic drives
With locomotive strides
Towards a slowing heartrate.
It comes to a halt
As I adapt
To fill my gap.


Alone in the Dark


A number of us are alone at night.
We are awake, in a half aware state
Thinking and wishing that somebody cared.
We don’t really think about reaching out
To other nocturnal lonely souls,
We are too busy with ourselves.
No one has reached out to us very far.
No one has ever been with us for long.
We lie alone,
In half-hearted distress
Simply because that is how we are.
The night is lonely because of us,
We make it lonely just because
We don’t care for each other enough
To ease rough patches
And light bright matches
To illuminate the fact of the matter.
If we would help one another
There would be no other
Lonely soul, without love’s spark
Alone in the dark.


Shell


Underneath a cracking shell
A fleshy creature screams.
The surface battered
Rots away
Revealing a presence long hidden
From sight.
The creature inside
The cracking shell
For once sees light.
The act is over
And long forgotten.
Now the truth
Bears fruit in the eyes
Of those beholding.
The story told
So long
Of a beautiful thing,
A gleaming white
Armoured knight
Unbeatable, unbreakable,
Breathtakingly unmistakable
Is rewritten in our minds
To reflect the truth.
The truth of the ugly, tiny soul
Writhing inside the shining lie
Now cracked open,
Unable to hide.
The truth
That those who seem bulletproof
Are rather weak inside.


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