Categories
Aspergers Poetry

Meant To Be

Categories
Poetry

Taken From Home

Pain of travel

No one cares

About the breathing

Time whips the human soul

Out of its body

Broken bones aren’t as weak

As the shattered mind

Individual

Rendered

Inept

Aboard the oceans

Across the ships

Never to return home

Never to return

Peace and prosperity

White sands become the enemy

Yet white men

Become angels

To run was death

To live was death

Are we really free

When the sun bakes our voices

Are they really angels

Waving swords around our hearts

Mighty beats of our

Native drum

Beat so far

Beat so long

Beating forever

One day we’ll come home

Riveting

Wondering

Sands and blood

Nations undone

Categories
Poetry

But He Had Slaves Too

500 mystic eden

No stopping

Reserved parking

Caroline dances on Handlebar Cafe

Fitting the point inside till the other dancers

Are green with envy

The tattoo of silver bonds on her thighs

Shows her availability for love and list tonight

Her future is for rent

Sorrow a one way street

Fifteen minute limit

The national alliance of women wandering

Discounted rates on this broadway of shame

The cabaret is a lounge for convenience

Register their souls and watch them fly

Stop

Her prime is united with a mission

The office of woman is creation

Five star citizens they truly are

Devoured by wolves near and far

A general like Washington might save her

But he had slaves too

Categories
Fellow Bloggers Poetry

Trapped In The Sex Trade

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The clock ticks

5:06 does the time read

and in gathering her thoughts for what lay ahead

her heart did bleed

body worn

pleasing the fantasies of ravenous wolves

that only prey on innocent voices

who know not how strong they are

there’s only so many holes

the human body has to offer

but pockets must be filled

at the expense of her right and will

her day started

when she was fifteen

and ten years later

she’s yet to see moonlight

because she’s in the limelight

of physique and ability

so to men and women

everything is a possibility

how brave is the dove

young mother making nest in the city

fighting both raven and sparrow

to live in prosperity

she looks in the mirror everyday

and sees her time tick away

ten years ago, she was an A student

now she takes it up the A-hole for a living

ten years ago, she was a devout Christian

now she knows everything she does is sinning

money’s only an addiction

until you start feeling the friction

of all the people and places you’ve been missin’

because they were taken all away while you were livin’

beaten black and blue

without anywhere to run to

promise her another shot at life

she’ll take anything from you

 

(The sex trade is global, and it’s real. It’s a multi-billion dollar industry, and while it’s not talked about much, it affects the lives of millions of girls, and boys. Sexual exploitation is highly profitable in a sex-crazed world that’s lost much of its moral standards, but that doesn’t make it right. These children, teenagers, and adults don’t have a voice. I mean, they do, but how many of us are Liam Neeson and can find them? You wouldn’t believe who runs a child sex ring herself: Hillary Clinton. Bet NBC, Fox, CNN, and MSNBC won’t talk about that. But she “cares” about children, and she supports “women’s rights”. Don’t watch porn, it degrades our standards and proves to these sex traders that people need more and more sex. Watch out for your kids, especially your girls. Tell them they’re beautiful, tell them they’re amazing, that way when someone else does it they won’t believe them. Be aware. The three biggest sex trafficking states in the U.S are California, Texas, and Pennsylvania. Watch documentaries, read first hand accounts. Those caught in the sex trade are the tragedy nobody is brave enough to call a tragedy, because too much money is involved.)

 

Categories
Aspergers Poetry

Desperation Underneath The Ink Of Humility

a_northern_light_cover

As the wind blows

ripping fast across my back

I think of light, near and far

and a call to come home

It’s nearly eight

not too late

but I feel the urge to write

and call to come home

I’m here, alone

like you normally find me

If you kept a calendar, you’d always know

that I’ve always wanted to go home

As the twinkling dots amass in size

I close my eyes

and forget the time

that I wanted to go home

The fading, in and out

keeps me locked in wonder of their whereabouts

and I forget I wanted to go home

Lost in a forest

of thick brush

and emotional peaks and pits

Troubled thoughts

from suffering from your pyramid scheme

I’m dizzy

please tell me this is a dream

Freezing water

laps behind me

and as the wind grows fiercer

I tighten my jacket around me

I do a lot of weird stuff

but I had to come here

at this day, at this time

to let you know

that I’m coming home