The Medium

Unseen by many
but I am not blind.

A ghost is of course
nothing but a nick in time,
a wound left behind
by a life birthed
from water and blood.

Its scares can be seen
if only you opened your mind
to the possibility.

I see what most can’t
because I can imagine the possibilities.

© 2018 By Amanda D Shelton

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Ghost Adventures

Silence is never a choice,
once your dead
even your memory screams.

A chilling breath worthy
to catch, a fearful mind
is a caldron of ghoulish
times.

A lost soul never truly dies,
for we all leave something behind.

Ghosts and you
there’s no difference
between the two.

You think you have a longer time,
sadly you don’t really know
when it’s your time.

Boo! Someday that will be you.

An EVP,
a video recording of a misty mass.

Who knows really?

© 2018 By Amanda D Shelton

The Graveyard Shift Quotes & Poems For The Gothic Inclined (First Ink)

I am working on a new project. I call it “The Graveyard Shift Quotes & Poems For The Gothic Inclined” and this is the first ink for my project.

© 2018 By Amanda D Shelton

Vanity Vampire Walks The Morrow Until Today

Shadows slowly stretch
over the ground,
as the sun sets
upon the pending night.

All daylight creatures
begin their silent sleep,
while the creatures
of the night awaken.

With ghoulish pride
the vampire rides the chilling night,
as the moon pulls the tides
from its gravity.

A fog rolls over rooftops
and hills become a graveyard
for the cold night air.

A misty frame
bent over and grim,
strides upon
the stone walls,
humans know nothing
of the monsters outside.

A vanity so fair
but a bloody affair
is all they wear,
and no reflection
do they manage.

© 2018 By Amanda D Shelton

From my Gothic collection
“Vampires Eat Bloody Poetry”

Gothic Meal

Sitting down to a Gothic meal,
roasted paper for
soaking up dark poetics.

For the Gothic poet eats
ashes and blood stained poetry.

The parchment has yellowed,
causing a grungy texture to
my format.

I a poet have a darker vision
to a morbid stuffing recipe
for Gothic lore and
a darker side of my
poetics.

Your mind eats from my
darker side, as you read
my Gothic eulogy.

Without poetry I am dead inside.

© 2018 By Amanda D Shelton

Grinding Life

Do you find it hard to
live in flesh and bone,
slowly grinding as life chips away?

In the end
we all become ghosts,
some of us learn to expect
our fate.

I am one of them.

© 2018 By Amanda D Shelton

Give Me A Place For Inspiration To Write Poetry

“Oh what poetry I would write, if I only could find a foggy night and a cool breeze to set me at ease.”

© 2018 By Amanda D Shelton



I already posted this on my Tumblr.
I thought my Bat Brat reader’s would like to read it, so I am posting it here as well.

The Moonlight Rose

The Moonlight Rose
On Midnight Delights

“Into the night we find beauty where darkness finds comfort.”

Nyctophilia
noun
“a love or preference for night, darkness.”

But my heart soaks up the light,
enough to survive.

I am more than this moonlit creature,
I am made up of stardust, flesh,
and bone.

Yet not like the rest,
I reside beyond your wildest dreams.
Where day and night collide
is where my heart loves to hide.
I crawl up into the moons beams
to cat nap on its streams
of leftover shimmers,
as I watch you surf my dreamers.

I then roll you over my tongue
pushing you out as a poetic format.

You are my passionate rose,
blooming for me, and my love
hydrates your plumage,
as my poetic heart feeds
your dreams with my rooted logic.

Time: 12:00am

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton | The Weathering Poet |  The Moonlight Rose |  The Dark Poet Eats The Night | Gothic Muse 1.0

How Sad

When I thought everything was going well,
that’s when you let me down.

You played with my heart strings,
like a jerk on the string.

You pulled me up
until I seemed strong again,
only to throw me down.

You then picked me up again,
only to throw me down.

You bruised my heart,
with your brutal jerk.

I fell down the rabbit hole,
hearing your laugh slowly fade
as I fell deeper into the pain.

You shattered my life
like a piece of tempered glass.

You washed my wound’s
only to give me another lash.

Painful love,
is painful You.

How sad.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

Ghostly Encounter In New Orleans 

Through fire and rain
they cursed my soul,
now I still remain
where I came.

They dug my grave
caged my fame with stainless steel,
like a vampire slayen,
in New Orleans.

They sang my song
through the dusk and fog
as I rolled upon the morres
my moans softly grown.
Until the end,
misty dreams of New Orleans.

Ghoulish strides I move
through the walls
as if none excist.

You feel my presence
like a chilling kiss,
a long forgotten whisper.

Shshshshs! I am upon you,
you can’t resist my experience.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

“A million stars burst forth from my chest,
for I couldn’t contain my love for the night no longer.
I am part of the night because I am made from its star dust.”

The Beauty Of The Night

The beauty of the night is the mystery of you.
My soul took flight in the middle of the night
only to be let down by the rising of the sun.

My heart ate the night,
devouring it with its wicked tongue.

Such love dwells under the cover of shadows,
only to be revealed as the sun rose over the horizon.
Sadly, such love dies turning to ashes
in the rays of the burning sun.

The love of the night
grows with such passion,
it’s black kiss blew me away.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

You can find the originals on my Tumblr @WeatheredPoetry.
These poems are part of My Dying Heart Collection.

Ghost

A whisper from the past,
a life leftover from years passed. 

Some believe in you
but I find it deficalt to. 

Not because I am not open minded
but because I have trouble believing in a phantom life.  

Though I still have an open eye
just incase you decide
to reveal your ghoulish strides.  

I do hope that you will
show me the truth,
come to me when others
can see too. 

I don’t know if I believe in you. 

I believe in God and his deed’s,
also the evil devil who
steals faith from all. 

I just find it deficalt to believe
in you. 

I have seen creepy thing’s
but I also understand science
and the possibilities. 

Will I some day come back to haunt
the world, like you? 

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

The Ghostly Poet

Foreboding is the ghost
lingers on forgotten smoke
( and words we forgot to speak).

A life is like a candles flame,
it burns until the candle melts
to the floor, its smoke lingers
for just awhile longer. 

A poet reminds us of the ghost
who they were and how they lived.
We are able to capture what lingers
through the night moaning loudly
for attention. 

It inspires a book.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

Dust In The Wind

I have left you hope
to remember me by,
like a ghost in the wind,
I last for as long as the wind
carries me onwards
through time.

I blew away like a wish,
or a phantom kiss
seeking a cheek
so fair and far away.

I faded like an old memory
passed on through the generations
until nothing is left of the original me.

I left you hope but you found
old memories instead, a ghost.

Some day I will fade like everything usaully does over time.

Dust in the wind
that’s all I am eventually.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

Broken Mind

I lost it one thought at a time,
blue, brown, and purple
a bruised mind shines.

Our minds are the most valuable
part of our bodies,
yet we shove junk into its chasm,
thinking it’s strong enough,
and deep enough to keep throwing
everything into its gray matter.

Yet we watch as time slowly steals
our previous donations to living.

Slowly it degrades,
it starts to decay,
lossing ourselves to the false
beliefs that society proclaims
to be true.

It eats you, breaks you
like a piece of moldy bread.

You fall to pieces,
laying ground for your
future endeavors,
only to loss track of your
destination.

A broken mind,
a deep well of madness,
slowly fells to the brim
of broken memories
and forgotten treditions.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

To My Broken Love 

Nothing is left,
the pieces have fallen apart,
until they are too small to see.

I am to insignificant for you
to care,
I am like a wound
itchy and bothersome,
you wish I wasn’t there.

My soul is always out in the open,
it’s bare and naked
for all to see.

My scares are visible,
kinda hard not to see
my suffering,
for I wear my struggles
on my sleeve.

My armor has a weakness,
it is you.
I never forgot how much
I love you.

You are tattooed upon my heart,
I have your name stitched
upon my soul.

Everyone knows who you are
because I have no secrets
no mask to wear.

You are my pain,
my dying heart you hold tightly.

My love you have,
my heart you choked
with your brutal needs for more.

The heart is greedy,
it can cause the mind
to be needy.

Such pain love can bare,
causing the oceans to flood,
the walls to fall into the pushing
oceans of your love.

Doesn’t matter how much I share,
you don’t care.

To my broken love.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

Love and Fear (Ode To The Clouds)

Of many a hour I sat to think,
I wasted time on dream like thoughts.

I waited year’s seems like eternity,
yet I sat still,
I then awoken to find
nothing changed,
not sure why;
I began to wonder.

Reality is,
life changes but within a dream
all stands still just for me.

I remember quite clearly,
the sky above grew gray and gloomy,
the clouds came down to consume me
instead it stole my heart.

I fell hard,
but my heart fell harder
for my gloomy lover.

The clouds frighten me
but they also bring a breath taking view that I love to see.
Through anxiety and fear I look
upon your gloomy beauty.

Ode to the clouds
with both love and fear.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

I have a phobia of clouds but I also find them beautiful.

Gothic Romance

Upon unspoken word’s
my heart shattered,
like a fragile flower
my life fell slowly into pieces. 

I withered under your touch. 

This heart of mine is breakable,
a life fragile like tempered glass,
it shatters under pressure. 

My love once strong now bent
and beaten, weakened by your
heartless demands. 

Bruised and beat
my heart bleeds out
under your feet. 

All that is left is cremated,
burnt to an ashy ghost
blowing in the wind. 

You became my Gothic romance. 

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

Hard To Breathe

When did it get so hard to breathe?
When you accused me.
I have nothing else to give
because you have all of me.

I suffer through,
I hurt too.
Yet still you don’t give a damn,
except about you.

I fought hard,
my angel’s fought harder,
yet you won beating me harder.

I die each time you accused me.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

“To my broken love, he knows who he is.💔

Faithful Dying Poetry

One breath I lost,
one life I tossed,
like a salad
I cut the food,
I mixed its contents
until it becomes something different.

I grew my roots where none grew before,
do to the design of life,
death touched mine,
I can hear the angles crying,
they mourn for my withered soul.

But none will come
to clean my wound’s,
there are no jar’s
to hold my year’s,
no napkin to soak up my tears.

The dirt in which I am planted
is dry, creaked, and wasted.

I become died,
I become weathered,
I become bent,
I become tired,
I am nothing but ashes
in the wind.

Blow on me and make your wish
my friend,
before I am gone.

Weathered poetry floats from my head,
land’s on your dashboard,
smudging myself across your screen.

This is poetry.

© 2017 By Amanda D Shelton

Love Can Be Hard 

I am not heartless,
life just taught me
to use my heart less.

I don’t always allow my heart
to make choices for me.

Life is saddened by love,
because when those
you care about die,
it hurts more than
if they were a stranger.

That’s why I always say,
love is not a happy journey
where the sun always shines.

It can be a barren landscape
wasting away with fattened pigs,
and chickens who lost their feathers.

Love can burn like the hot sun
in the Mojave Desert.

It can drink your blood
until you’re ready to pop.
Leaving you to die
from a broken heart.

© 2017 Amanda D Shelton

“I thought I should share this poem before I lose my inspiration to write it down. I have been through a lot this year. It is but a poem and I know some will be able to relate to it. I am not always an emotional person so to allow my feelings to make my choices isn’t a normal reaction I have. It would have to be a very deep emotion for that to happen, love is one.”

Brokenhearted 

Love broke my heart,
love stole my everything,
love damaged my heart,
now it is sore, bruised, and used.

But my love is sick
it stressed me out
until my blood poured all my energy out.

Now my heart is damaged,
heartbroken and crushed.

My love he doesn’t seem to notice.

© 2017 Amanda D Shelton

“Brokenhearted with high blood pressure. You wonder if someone can die from a broken heart if I get high blood pressure after my boyfriend started telling me I don’t love him enough. How horrible that he would say such a thing to anyone.” 

Goodnight My Moonflower 

One dreary day a flower
grew in a baren landscape,
soon over grown and gray.
All the flowers rotted away,
leaving ghostly perfume
and misty dreams for those
who came to pick the flowers. 

As the night fell upon the fields
of ghostly petals,
one grew above the others.
It was a Moonflower. 

Like the others
soon the Moonflower
withered and died.
Never to set eyes on the morning sky.
Now I cry while the rain falls slowly.

© 2017 Amanda D Shelton

Sad Love (I Wish The Best For Him)

I was accused and abused,
I trusted a man who stole
right from my hand.

Why?
Because I believed if someone says they love you,
that means they have respect for you.
I am wrong,
love doesn’t make someone trustworthy or a nice person.

Being honest happens
when someone is truthful,
Being nice happens
if someone is truly nice.

If you are a nice person deep inside you won’t find it hard to be kind.
You won’t have to work at it,
because it’s been there the whole time.

I have been told by one person ever,
How he thinks I am horrible
and dishonest,
when I am too sick to even care
to be mean or cruel,
I never was a dishonest fool.
I never cared to lie,
I would rather work for my dime.

I have fought for survival,
I didn’t get here by cheating
and taking what I didn’t work for.

He did,
He stole from me
and lied to my family and friends.
He didn’t bat an eye,
He showed no morals.
Yet he was quick to blame me
telling me something is wrong
with my mind.
He never admitted to his crime’s.

I feel hated and used,
horribly accused:
by a man who used I love you
until it hurt me.

Sadly I have to tell you,
I am ashamed of him.
I am ashamed that he treated me
in such a way.
I am ashamed that he judged me
poorly and that he judged me at all.
I am also ashamed of myself,
for allowing it to go on
for so long.

Love is not judgemental,
Love is not boastful,
Love doesn’t care how old you are,
Love doesn’t care what raise you are,
Love doesn’t tell you lies,
Love doesn’t spit in your eye,
Love is a feeling that transcends
all time.

I am left in tears…
Sad love bit me hard
leaving it’s scares.

© 2017 Amanda D Shelton

Fragile 

To fight until there’s
nothing left,
I gave it my last breath.

It crumbled,
faded,
withered,
and died.

Like porcelain,
it was fragile,
and weak,
it creaked,
it pealed,
it spelt its ink.

Like an emotional poem,
it burnt the parchment paper,
it curled itself up inside my heart
scratching deep at the walls,
until I had to allow it
to leap free.

I fought until there was nothing left of me.

© 2017 Amanda D Shelton

Owed To Gothic literature

♥♥♥

Might be gloomy to you
but it’s poetry to me.

♥♥♥

Oh how I love the moon
it reminds me of your poetic gloom.
Such passionate beams
devours my mood.

My love for Gothic literature
seeps through the paper,
it stains my format with
a grungy texture.

Owed to Gothic literature,
a beautiful format,
gloomy,
no dulled senses,
no wasted sentences;
only foggy days,
and a gloomy haze.

© 2017 Amanda D Shelton

A Dark Poets Night

Of many a night I sat writing
to let my thoughts roam free,
the poetic runnel ran steady
and the streem flowed free. 

Such night’s as this,
I become more than just the poet,
I become the lady of the night
planning plots to take over the night,
with pen and paper as my weapon. 

Devouring the moon with
my poetic gloom,
I watch as the moon swoons
and its shadow plays. 

With each word I write
it’s wane guides my write and
clears my writer’s block. 

Upon this night I become
the lady of the night. 

Its a dark write indeed.

© 2017 Amanda D Shelton

By The Fire

Lovely flame,
lovely bones laying by the fire.

Two lover’s cling to the warmth
of its blaze,
embraced by its girth,
and its violent birth.

Two burning flames
consumed by its bloom.

Such passion it requires,
such passionate lover’s,
laying together within its violent covers.



© By Amanda D Shelton

Have You Ever Danced With The Devil in The Pale Moonlight

From day one,
I warned you of my heat.


Why haven’t you learned
don’t play with me,
if you can’t take the heat.


The cards are on the table son,
pick your game,
but be careful my friend,
for the devil already won.


Have you ever danced with the devil
in the pale moonlight?


His violan bayed at the moon,
as the devil danced with the shadows
on the street.


He gambles with your soul,
he makes you move your feet.


Don’t dance with the devil,
unless you can handle the heat.




© By Amanda D Shelton

A Rose

A rose once grew here,
now nothing remains
but roots and vains.

In dust and ash it lay,
Yet I loved my rose
to the end.

It greeted me on my grave.

Iifes funny that way?

Being Human 

First taste of the surgery glace,
life started out
like a punch in the face.

Breathe they say,
work they say,
feel they say,
with fake smiles and
business like lies,
they descend like flies
on your dinner table.

Live they say,
lie they say,
groom your face with no regrets
and a lumonus smile.

Grinding meel with only a mile
then you realize,
you didn’t even make it halfway.

What’s a mile
when it feels like the end
never begins.
Put on a smile,
whitened by societies ideals
and lack of moral’s.
Lets fake a smile.

The human rase began
the moment you
put on those trousers.

Poor fool ate from the pool,
only to find he was left
eating with the cattle.

No fine wine,
no beautiful dinning room table,
no roasted duck,
who gives a
Duck duck goose,
your already hangen from the noose.

Being Human is like
treding through mud with sneekers,
you got stuck.
Without boots your a stick
in the mud.

Being Human is like a drunk
Monkey cruising the streets
looking for good eats,
only to find your a trash digger
without a dime.

Being Human… We know how to fake a smile. 😀 

Upkeep For The Dead

The flowers beckon,
with their sent of decay,
weathered are they
who grow in the day.

The grass beckon at my feet,
my sences want and wait
for the sun to worm my ghost.

The stone is baren but not alone,
for the dead keep good
company.

I am their keeper,
upkeep,
for the dead need company.

To Love Someone Is To Die a Terrible Death

To love someone is to die a terrible death.
Not because you love them;
it is because once they are gone
your heart will fully understand the loss.

Headache

​Owed to pain and suffering,
if not for your push
and pull,
I would be nothing.

My strength grew the day
you knocked at my door,
no invite or welcome
was ever given,
but still you came in.

Soon you brought the gray and destrot,
and the nasty taste
of uncertainty.

Never did I think that
some bleak day
I would be taken away,
to live out my existence
in such a way.

The constant pounding,
pinching,
and grabbing.

Owed to headache and its suffering.

© By Amanda D Shelton

Creepy 

Of shadow and dirt,
creepy crawlies rose from the earth.
Soon the worms tried
to eat my skirt.
I tugged and tugged
with no relief,
then I realized
I’m laying in bed
wrestling with the sheets.

© By Amanda D Shelton

Like A Stone

​I found my home underneath
creaks and stone.

I became stiff and weak,
my morter bowed
as my foundation frowned.

I mourned for the loss
of my crown,
as the angels gathered under
the cross roads,
where I have to make a choice.

Here I stand,
here I chose to lay,
to become like stone
to an already barren land,
my name ingraved on my bowed head.

Yet my roots broke through the thickness of my skin,
peeling away at
my died skin
it fell away,
anew,
rebirth,
I was reminded of
my strength,
and my girth grew,
my quality was still
of good use,
even after all of the abuse.

Oh life how I blamed you
for my strife,
yet I never thought
even once,
that I am the cause
not you.

I am like a stone,
heavy,worn,
and weakened all around,
but still I stand tall
and strong,
like a stone.

Yet still a headstone will someday
hold my name,
with pride and no regrets,
for all will fall away
when death comes my way.


© By Amanda D Shelton

Happy Halloween Bat Bart’s…

The Screams From My Dreams 

I woke with chills
shivering down my spine,
like a scratchy shadow
clawing at my skin,
I trimmer from within.

My fears consume
and devour,
as my mind goes sour.

These night’s I fight with monsters
from nightmares,
deeper and deeper
I slowly approach
my darkest dreams,
only to find my tortured screams.

Dust and Blood 

 “What is left of this heart of mine, is hard to define. All but dust and  blood is what is left behind.” 

© By Amanda D Shelton 

Life Expected What? 

I am addicted to the poison
in the water,
ashes and bone,
drink until it seeps deep
into your soul.

Life had other plans,
yet here I stand
facing the demons ,
as life commands.

I am addicted to the poison
in the water,
black and crude
it goes down like stew.

I never thought that some day,
my shadows would try devouring me
in such a way.

Never thought that darkness
would pass by my chamber door,
knocking politely and so slightly.

Death has no manners,
he just knows how to devoure.

Such taboos are just a bit sour.

Split thine own tongue 
on sharpened words,
trun them into serpentine,
or water down wine.

Life never expected me to be so sharp,
or did he?

The Third Person Is Insanity 

One is sanity,
two is getting closer,
three is the third person
behind you,
but you don’t remember
who it is or
where they came from.

Third is never alone,
two is enough to keep you busy,
one is so lonely.

Don’t speak,
oh what insanity I dread,
its a dream where you never wake
but you thought you did,
but with no luck
your still in bed.

Skipping to the covers as the white sheets devours you.

Wrapping you up into 1,2,3.
I can see you dreaming of me.
1,2,3 please don’t leave me.
1,2,3 my shadow devoured me.
1,2,3 insane yes I can see.

Insane dreamer dreads the 1,2,3…
Wake me please?

A Poet’s Disease 

I sat with much contentment,
for I am happiest when I write.

All my might
goes into the night,
with every word,
I began to write.

My shadow play’s
as my poet craves,
my word’s are engraved
upon the writer’s block.

Soon word’s will play as I write the plot.

The poet I am,
the dreadful lot,
dried up my thoughts.

Nevermore will I deplore
such illusion upon your life,
instead I will cut like a knife
into your mind,
there I will set forever allure,
nothing but shallow word’s,
yet still my poetic heart fell
into a poet’s disease,
with such passion I do adore.


I fell to my knees,
as poetry devoured me.

Ghostflower

You will know me
by my thorny snar,
you will know me
by the scars I bare.

You will know me
by my perfumed air,
my roots shall
inherit the earth,
My sent will bare
wittness to my care.

My misty soul lingers
on your nose,
My stim like a weed
devours the trees,
My ghost blooms on top
the gravestone.

Hopeless Dreams

I got lost,
walking through the forest
of hopeless dreams. 

I became a cloud walker,
a lost lover
to hopeless dreams. 

The tree’s weeped for me,
as I wondered through
their rooted trunks,
each one screamed at
me, to run.

Run away,
never look back,
for my lover chased me through the weeping willow dreams.

My pillow was soaked
with green tears,
I swore it wasn’t a dream
and I became hooked to the branches of those
weeping willow tree’s. 

Dreams are like willow tree’s, 
they are rooted in nightmares
and lost soul’s cry
under their umbrella. 

Suffering Can Be Seen In The Actions Of The Suffer

“When another person makes you suffer, it is because he suffers deeply within himself, and his suffering is spilling out. He does not need punishment ; he needs help. For suffering is a punishment, which can damage the strongest man.”

Dying Poet

“I weave my web of poetic design,
slowly the poem becomes mine.

Each thread is built
to hold ten thousand words.

Each line is built to last,
but one night I will lay silent
and my poet will die.”

© By Amanda D Shelton

Pains Love

I’m scattered about like bit’s of broken pottery,
my heart is a fragmented miss.

Love screwed me over so many times.

The screws are bent and rusted,
broke and busted.

This love of ours lost its power’s,
lost all meaning with all the lies you
took the time to create.

Such damages,
such dirt and rust we
accumulated over time.

This love caused nothing but pain
and nothing else can be done.

The damages have already been done.

Love Bite’s

Love brings pain,
love brings darkness into your brain,
saturating everything
with blood pressure and heartbeats
that drive’s you insane.

Love can drain,
love can bite,
love can drag you to your knee’s,
love will make you bow
to its domain.

Love bite’s!
love makes you cry,
love brings suffering,
love takes all you try to gain.

Love makes you feel greedy,
love makes you forget everything,
love takes your security,
love steals your feelings,
love makes all heavy
and draining.

Love bite’s!
Sucking you dry,
like a vampire it transforms you
into a greedy beast
that feeds on broken hearts.

Dream Within A Dream

On top a hill
upon a dark and dreary night
a whisper was laid on my ear.

With a feeling of gloom
I began to crack
I began to slack
my wall’s began to fall.

My life turned black
no longer did my shadow
hold its usual ground.

This be the night
when I realised
my shadow never left.

The whole time
I am the shadow in which
I seek and lack.

Such a doomed creator I am,
I am made of shadow and wind.

I am nothing more than
dust and I need the wind.

The window laid open to the night air,
as I wiped the sleep from my head.

A dream came on the gush of
air, taken by surprise
I shivered and shook
as I dropped my book.

Aw yes, I am sure now
that
I am a dream or
I am a dreamer lost
in the moment
of drafting land’s
of sleeping sand.

Shshsh! I can hear my heart beating,
the wind’s outside whipping and weeping,
a reminder I am dreaming. 

Pay full attention to the Raven
that sits by your window,
she’s nothing more than a memory
an unwritten poem waiting for you.

I am your shadow,
dreaming that you are real.

You are my poem ready to be written.

Oh dreamer,
how I wonder in your world
as a shadow.

Smoke and mirrors
that’s all.

Must We Die?

I shook off my rust
as the world turned to dust,
upon the ground flooding life’s
journey to the water’s edge
where they drowned in silence.

All was lost never to be found,
our tongues parched
and our souls starving
from the lack of faith.

Feel pity for no fool,
for we know we are that fool.

We know what we lack,
never picking up the slack,
our prayers lack morale
none are worthy;
yet upon whispers of the dying
life crawls to our feet crying.

Sorrow devoured,
let all go sour,
with vengeance and bruting,
this love turned greedy.

Upon my ashes life layed a prayer
a blessing.
Yet it did not take my suffering,
instead it bared down upon me
with full force and it bit me.

With no regrets I transformed
into stone,
my life lay out before me,
my journey was it a waste of time?

For all must die for others to live.

Lost Beauty

Beauty Lost Never To Be Found



The roses were only a taste of your bitter waste,
your heart devoured all my beauty.

Your hate stole my soul,
turning my life to ashes and dust.

All the beauty,
I have lost and never again found
it is gone forever.



♥ Broken Hearts Never Lie

 © By Amanda D Shelton

Ghostly Lover

Deeply my soul always yearned
for darkness to become
my lover,
but the cold touch
of my ghost slowly
took me into the ground.

Deeper and deeper
my dreams came true,
with every breathe
you steeped
and with every step
you creeped,
yet here I lay,
nothing but ashes remain
of my past lover’s gain.

Oh what sorrow and suffering the evenings bring,
yet still it is soothing to
my ghost to hear
the whispering of the rain hitting my gravestone.

Ghoulish my windy lover seems,
like a cold icy mist

he kisses my lips,
leaving shivers to ride
down the spine of my ghost.
Woooooow! 

Deep Grind

I never thought you’d leave
without saying goodbye,
I guess you got underneath my skin.

like an old wound that never healed,
you festered and bruised deeply.

Our love was dangerous
and fast paced,
Ironic it seems that over time
you grew on me.

Love was a familiar thing for me,
like a bitter taste of wine;
your love hit my palette with
a deep grind,
using your promise’s and lie’s
to sip on my life.

Such wounds are hard to find;
for they are small but most painful.

Love Hurts

I fell and I can’t get back up.

All I saw were two feet,
once in awhile a hand
would reach for mine,
but like always
he threw me down
into a tashben of broken dreams.

Our love was softly spoken,
but fragile and glass like.

Emotions reflected truth,
but over time they became
over flowing with suffering
and pain.

Fragments of happier times
scatter across my mind
saturating my brain.

Yet still no time can heal
these two woven soul’s,
our happier times no longer
grow,
there rooted by tears
that never had time to dry,
its caused cracking
and chipping,
it started to fade out,
like a horrible nightmare
of screaming lover’s
torn apart by drought,
and angery greedy pain.

Love knows where to stab,
knows where to stick
its needles,
and its needless garbage.

Love is heavy,
dangerous too
if you don’t understand
its pull and tug.

Its waves could devour you,
you never saw the giant wave
ready to crash down upon your life.

It took all you had and more.

Love hurts sometimes,
love takes all you’ve got
stool you’re feelings
and your plot.

Love hurts sometimes,
leaving large gashes
in your heart.

Love hurts…
sometimes.

Life Is Completed

Life is complected,
I still don’t understand everything, 
I still have issues. 

Life is a pain,
a struggle,
a fight.

Even though you push with all your might,
Life pulls you back
into the light. 

Your breath becomes heavy,
the labor becomes weathering,
Your life gets rooted
as your flower begins to wither.

Your pot has cracked its paint chipped and rusted.

Time has left you crusted,
and moving like molasses. 
Life is crubling,
rumbling under my feet. 

I brace for impact
yet still I loss my ground.
I fall faster each time
I take the plunge. 

It seems it doesn’t matter
if I prepare for the fight
or not,
life still steps on my feet.

Life is completed, 
Life is deep,
Life is windy,
Life is steep.

Jack The Ripper

It was a murder most fowl
bloody intrigue and a mystery
worthy of attention.

Soon as the murderous fiends
plans were spoiled he went missing,
like a shadow he disappeared
into the dark.

The newspapers started telling
of shadow’s that breathe down
your neck and whispering wind. 
Nothing was seen of this fiend,
but a dark haired beast cutting throats
and his monstrous growl.

This creature of the night loved
playing cops and robbers.
Each chase brought more mystery.

Soon all died down,
quite came over the town.
Yet not long did it take for the murderous fiend to get board
and strike again.
This time he got greedy,
a girl half dressed was found
in front of the caller of an estate,
with her throat cut.

It was very much like the game of clue.

Who did it, in what room, with what weapon? Shshsh! It was the Butler
in the cellar with the kitchen knife.

Soon the whisper of the truth came
into the light. No one knew who killed
the girl with the knife.

Jack be nibble, Jack be quick,
Jack jumped over the body oh so quick.
Jack the riper yew what manner of a beast he be?
Poor poor souls,
wasn’t their time yet nature had other plans so did he.
________________________________

The idea for this poem came to me after I watched a show about British crimes . I thought why not write my thoughts down about Jack The Ripper case. I wrote it in a less gory way than I have seen on TV. I’m not too much of a gore and horror type so less blood and guts the better.

© By Amanda D Shelton

Broken Heart

Held together by stitches my heart almost fell to pieces.

Blackened and broken my heart released its contents, bleeding out what was leftover from past lover’s,
I am lost and broken.

© By Amanda D Shelton

My Ghost

I leaned in to kiss my ghost,
poof! She’s nothing but smoke.

The hearth was cold,
my soul lay under its toe,
six feet under,
deep thoughts plunder into
darkness and thunder.

My soul cried out,
as whispers came from these depths,
where rotting flower’s once grew.

Black rose’s are a sign of death.
Its perfume reminds us
of the lives we’ve lived.

Poor black rose,
never had a chance
to become a living thing.

No signs of life,
no heartbeat,
no breath was left for me.

Ash’s is all there will be,
for death always returns with a vase
of black rose’s just for me.

His shadow danced on my tombstone,
As Nosferatu kissed my cheek,
death asked me for a dance,
sadly I declined because I am
the lover of a poetic tongue,
a gambler of words.

Death is nothing more than serpentine.

© By Amanda D Shelton

Rose’s I Bring

It’s soft
It’s still
It’s beautiful
With its wilt there comes pain,
nothing ever will be the same.

Its perfume kills,
Signs of wear and tear,
life comes down with each petal
that decay’s.

A rose left to rot,
The sun will change what I wrought,
my rose’s I did bring
yet still my grave seems
lonely and bored.

Oh Lord lay me down,
Where my bed of rose’s
perfumed my gown.

The cold chilled my bones,
It’s soft
It’s still
It’s beautiful
With its rot there comes a day
when heaven will open wide
ready for my arrival.

My rose’s I bring
a token for death and a kiss
with my last breath.

Rose’s soft, still, and beautiful
broke my heart and pricked my lover
with its thorny branches,
as I was left to rot.

© By Amanda D Shelton

Ghost’s In The Bed Post’s

He protested he could hear the ghost’s
pounding on the bed post’s.

He heard them scraping, scratching in his head,
he protested he could hear their screams,
pounding beating upon the night air.

Dreams became nightmares,
ghoulish and grim.

He protested the ghost’s were coming for him,
soon at midnight his screams echoed through the corridors,
by morning he was nowhere to be found.
Nothing but scratches on his wall were found it said: “Help They are under my bed.”

© By Amanda D Shelton

Poetry Contest Reminder

Take My Breath Away Poetry Contest Flyer

 



 

Beating Heart

Divider-1

I dug deep into your chest,
pulled on your heartstrings.

With each tug you felt my pressure,
my passion, and my breath.

It was a black lip kiss,
a beautiful monster gripping your heart
pulling you closer to my den,
there you became a cage for my empty heart.

No longer can it leak or fall apart,
for you are the stitches
keeping the pieces from falling away from me. 

© By Amanda D Shelton

pen-01

 

Under The Sycamore

Soon my love we will lay together under the sycamore
our ashes mingle making a beautiful mush.

Dirt covers our bodies
our bones become one,
like birds set free,
We will be black feathers and free.

Black lore, a beautiful death,
a beautiful beautiful love,
hearts become flea’s
sucking the blood of lover’s passed.

We become black
blacker still
and folklore speaks of us
as pages in a book.

A quill tattered
paper yellowed.

Time ticked
until our last hour.

The Shadow’s Have Secrets

One night in the depths of December,
all was silent but the rumble of the city below. A shadow sat on top a Gothic church, as if he belonged with the gargoyles that perched next to him. He glared down into the crowd’s that passed by the gates, watching the humans with their daylight habits. He pondered how they go about not knowing that death watch’s their every move from the shadow’s. Living like rats scarring about eating and getting fat.   “The humans have it easy”   he thought. 

Then a rush of people came dashing by, at least nineteen were all huddled together under a canopy of umbrellas, one woman stood out. With black silken hair trailing down her back, she wasn’t a human, with her dark crimson eye’s and pail white skin was almost translucent.   “Ah yes there she is my ravened haired beauty.”  The shadow’s moved with his leap, he landed in a smoky black coat that trailed behind his leg’s as he grounded his feet to the sidewalk becoming a solid form of a man. He grinned, his smile showed two sharp fangs. He’s a creature of the night, a vampire.   

Two nights passed sense he saw his ravened haired beauty. He’s been following her ever scenes she caught his eye while lurking around the churches gates. He felt drawn to her as if she loured him closer with her power’s. She stopped at a bar, Boozer’s Tavern. He went to follow her but as he swung open the door she say’s.   “Hello my shadow friend”.    She pushes him hard against the wall causing a loud thud.    ” Hey gorgeous how are you? ” he smiles at her like a Lion would.   “I’m good”   she then takes the time to meet his gaze giving a warning not to follow. In a gush of wind she was gone. 

© By Amanda D Shelton

Sorrow

Sorrow streams down my face,
in rivers of pain.

I stay silent because it seems that no one really cares.

I sit and wait for my sorrows to lift, yet slowly it gets  heavier the longer I wait.

I know deep inside that my light is there,
my shine is never not there.

Its just covered up
by all the suffering I bare.

I do hope soon the vail
will fade, 
and I will see the sun
once again in Its glorious gleam.

Never Make A Deal With A Devil In Blue

Stuck in a limbo here we go again.
Me and my woes here we go
toe to toe.
I played a vicious part
I broke an unfair shared my heart
with woe, woe, woe,
I’m about to blow
so if you come around
I should let you know,
I’ll tear you up leave you in two
dealing you your piece’s.

Go ahead, walk it off
if you know what’s good for you.
My woes know what to do.

I’m no good at playing the part,
This heart ain’t built on sand so
give it a chance.
‘Cause I’m woe, I’m woe, I’m falling apart with my woes in hand.

Give love a chance,
I’ll bet you loos to,
Fall away, fall hard too
‘Cause I’m woe, I’m woe over you.

I’m a love stealer,
a dealer of hearts.
I play the card’s,
lower than low, here I go.

Pick a card and deal me your heart
like a repo,
or if you choose right
I’m a redeemer of broken heart’s.

Low, low oh how low will you go?
I’m a stealer of heart’s.

You dug yourself into a shallow grave,
A pretty little mess that you made for yourself.

I’m about to show my ace in the whole,
For the time you’re gonna lose
By the time I’ve got the deal,
I’ll tear you up and pass around the piece’s.
Go ahead, take a walk,
if you know what’s good for you.

Don’t make a deal with a devil in blue,
She’ll give you nothing but
woe for two.

She bootleg your emotions
Bottled up your explosions
Intoxicated your meanings
leaving you bleeding.

Learning the truth
She’s your worse sin
She’s left you reeling,
feeling bitter for the lose of your heart.

Never make a deal with a devil in blue,
She loves eating leftover’s from past love affairs and makes it trendy
for everyone but you.

© By Amanda D Shelton

Artwork Related To My Poem Silence

Silence Never Screams

This is for my poem Silence.

I also wanted to say this. Never stay silent if someone is hurting you. You have all rights to scream and run.

Silence

Dear Diary, 

These are my shadowed thoughts, 
where I smear my soul onto your pages. 

Soon there will be nothing left of me but
ashes and ink. 

My soul has poured out of me
with every word that I speak. 

Only your pages will tell of my
silence and my muffled screams. 

Silence X

Dear Diary

Freedom I flew Away

Wicked me,
wicked time,
wicked,
wicked,
wicked is mine.

Floating above dreaming
on cloud nine.

A door to reality
opens wide for me.

No I do not enter,
instead I fly away,
like a butterfly that just
morphed from its cocoon.

My wings started out sticky and wet,
soon after I was dry and ready to take off and fly.

Reality can stick it,
leave me a note I don’t care,
I love breathing the fresh free air.

I am freeeeeee!
Though once again reality comes to steal my breath away.

Life’s Dancer

I lay on the cold floor
my face squished to its surface.

A reflection of my life danced
in front of me,
as my breath came out of me,
each one a laborer of mine.

Time lengthened over my body,
as life planned everything,
while my mind slept so very deeply.

Ticking time,
holding life’s dancer
inside its music box,
being held tightly by the pressures
of life’s ticking clocks.

Silent Movie

Silence follows the velvet tears,
The moving picture
is pitch and perfectly white,
The architects of our flaws and fears
I know, t.v. shows.
We’re nothing but servants
of black and white moving screens.

The movies portray the perfect scene.

Ash is pitch with bits of white,
scattered across my tattered movie screen.

Aw how to portray such devotion,
to a screen with immortality,
for the actors that give their life’s blood.

Like a vampire slaying its meat,
for media knows how to bite.

Abuse

How far, 
how deep, 
how bad you hurt me. 

I was torn down 
by your presents, 
My fears you fed 
with word’s you said. 

The closet was my friend, 
when no one gave me their hand. 

I feared for my life, 
never did I see a light, 
Instead it was the flash of your hand 
coming down like a knife. 

The abuse I suffered, 
never will I forget, 
but coping is all I can give, 
forgiveness is my gift to myself. 

Abuse and neglect come hand in hand. 
__________

A child should never have to face abuse nor neglect. If it was up to me I would have chosen a different way of life from the beginning. But I was too young to make that choice.

Imperfections

Spirit and mind part,
popping out from there seems.

Between the light and the dark,
crack’s are seen, visible for all to see.
I am learning.

Imperfections are mark’s of beauty,
that never fade out.

I am an old soul, with burnt edges,
I am crisp falling a part;
as time takes everything
that I own.

Nothing, is perfect.
These are but my imperfections.

Broken Heartstrings

Heart’s know how to break,
mine is covered in tears,
Yet never did you care.

You pulled at my heartstrings
until they broke.

I had to keep my pieces in jars,
so not to loss me.

Yet you found my safety
and took what was left of me.

I shattered at your feet,
All you did was kick me away.

You left a hole where
You use to be.

Though today feels like tragedy,
I still have tomorrow
to let go of my suffering.

_______________
The Broken Hearted Never Die Do They? ~ Amanda D Shelton I lost my love today, this poem speaks for me.

Love Pitch Black

When I fell for love,
it fed off my sorrow,
ate my fear
and drank my mind,
like a doomed monster
inching its way
through my life.

I bloomed in the night,
as the moon cried for me,
my roots drank the tears,
as the heaven’s above
opened wide for me.

My moon developed all of me,
as I fell at his starry feet,
Our love became lost
and pitch black.
It poured out of me,
creating a black hole
where my heart use to be.

Asylum

Bloody and torn,
I am living in my head.

Not a care in the world,
no feeling but dread.
A fear coming up,
creeping from my head.

Pills are on the floor,
water by my bed,
nurses with needles
Doctor’s galore.

Welcome to the Asylum
where everything
is not what it seams.

Sanity grins,
creepy it seams.

Everyone is ill in
the Asylum’s dream.

Comfortably Numb

So can you hear me?
Am I coming in loud and clear?
Is this not a static free zone?
Here I am feeling nothing but like a stone.

The air is so cold,
the chill has made me numb.

It’s a welcomed feeling,
I’m so comfortably numb.

Nothing but the warmth of fever
burning from within my heart,
keeps all from falling apart.

I’m so comfortably numb
setting in the dark,
waiting for my vibe,
to strum on my strings.

My heart bleeds but no pain I feel,
because I’m so comfortably numb.

Raven Wings

A weeping rose
smeared its black tears
all over my wicked dreams.
My heart beats faster
as my feathered friend was heard scretching
at my door.

Fowl or beast,
I took a look inside
its heart,
though I knew it was made
of blackened ink.

I saw nothing but an ink smear
from a broken quill,
plucked from the same Raven
I once called a beast.

It peeked at me
through cracks in my wall.
This room I once called sanctuary,
but my beast transformed
into a fiend,
a lost soul.

This Raven is found
scratching,
smearing my thoughts
onto these walls.

I soon will leave this darkened room,
to venture out on Raven wings.

Recovery From A Broken Heart

Do you believe in love,
after a broken heart?

Is it possible to pick up the pieces,
put back together with stiches
what tore at the seems?

Do you believe in love,
in a lonesome heart?

Is there a possibility of recovery,
from a dying love?

I think it depends on you,
all you need to do
is learn to love yourself.

Nightmares

I’ve been held down by dreams,
paralyzed by it’s fear,
like a demon
feeding off my fears.

I soon flee,
like the moon
a few minutes before the dawn.

I fought nightmares,
along side my shadow.

Leaving now as the light streams
through my dreams.

Thirsting No More

It is a night of darkness and desire,
a breeze blows throw of ethereal sounds,
wolves bay at the moon.

The darkness stirs,
a dark form approaches.
night shrouds her brooding form,
of eternal rot.

Her ebon hair cascades over
pale and tragic shoulders,
her full crimson lips part slightly,
to taste the blood streaming
from the pale flesh
beneath her.

Now a night of shared vitality,
She thirsts no more.

A Phantom Pain

The shadows gather in this room.

My dread grows
as the dagger of your words
falls against my naked soul.
It mutilates me,
and darkly my essence drips
to the wicked earth that is my visal.

In agony I hang my head
while pain’s shadow hovers closely.

Now alone, In silence
my supplication falls upon blind eyes.

No one can hear my cries,
for this is my doom,
a phantom pain.

Vanity Of The Vampire

Vampire’s Love Poetic’s

Vanity Of The Vampire



Never an image shown
in the reflection of a vampire’s soul.

The Vampire’s vanity
is not vanity of image,
but is vanity of their soul.

A shadow creeps,
as the door creeks open,
a misty form approaches,
as screams echo in the night air.

Soon all is bear,
silence is in the air,
the shadow has left
bloody footprints on the floor.

Screeching sounds coming from the windowpane,
a bat banging at the windows latus,
scratching to let it.

Vampires know nothing of human living,
nor our food,
our morals,
and believes,
They know only of blood,
and bedding.

Bloody vampire’s love their sway,
their food,
and hates the heat of the sunny day’s.



Vampire’s Love Poetic’s  © By Amanda D Shelton

e1d87-vph

Reality Had To Break For My Freedom To Be My Choice

I use to fear my reality
would run off with me.

Like the plate ran off with the spoon,
My brain wanted to run away with my mind.
I know nothing is mine,
even my mind.

We can’t buy our sanity, nor our reality.

Once I admitted that to be true,
reality opened wide,
I entered it’s darkened world.
My shackles broke,
my mind I had to stroke,
to strengthen myself for the truth.

I Will Never Think Like Normal People Think

For me my shadows
once were real people,
They walked and talked
like you and I,
Their realm was a breath away
from my sanity.

A day came when the wall’s fell,
my shadows became nothing but smoke,
an illusion lost forever.

I mourn for my lost
realm, of shadows and smoke.

I learned the value of my reality,
what normal people value and think.

Though no matter how I fake,
I am not normal
nor do I think like they,
because I suffered through
none reality on it’s blink.

Dark Visions In The Night

Shadow’s dance on these wall’s,
my thought’s are like crumbling paper,
crunching with every word
my mind makes up.

My breath becomes a labor
of time and passing thoughts,
that I scribbled onto my paper.

Time becomes like the moon,
soon nothing will be left
but shadow
and visions of last night’s
dark plots and writes.

As always my muse passed away,
like a dark vision of blacks and gray’s.

Nerve Pain

Be of wane to my pain,
stings like a dulled needle
on my skin.

Pain rushes through my spine,
like a lightning storm rolling down the valleys and canals
of my arms and legs.

Wind grows and growls,
as each of my moans
slowly groan. 

Each tingle is a sting,
each roll is a stone under my foot.

Nerve pain slowly causes
me to go insane.
Although I am not sure
what tomorrow will bring. 
For now I will be here
and now.

Life Is Hard

Life is hard,
it’s full of thorns,
hateful people,
and sickness.

Death is always waiting in the shadow’s,
feelings are always waiting
to lurch forward
when you least expect it.

Memories of past regrets
always know how to bite you.

Your order turns into
chaos.

Life is hard,
though tomorrow maybe better.

Creation

A gasp of air escapes my lips,
as life leave’s this vessel,
which is my body.
My soul breathes out,
as the Angel’s cry for my loss.

This soul,
never left alone,
for there are many more
than just this one.

We live on a breath,
one gasp,
one bodily form
called the universe,
which is our God, the creator,
and might king of the stars.

Vampire Poetic’s Heartbeat | Death’s Sympathy



Tis a night of darkness,
mist clouds the valleys below.
Spirits vent their outrage,
to death’s demand. 

Life had no regrets,
nor needs for revenge,
yet the people cry out in fret,
that death would show sympathy for their friends.

Still death has none,
for he does his job
as it is his sway.

Every soul will bow to his demands,
like before.
For none is beyond his grave,
nor the gazing of his sway.
Death always gets his way.



The Carnival Of Rust

Breaking glass,
skin,
and bone
the carnival of rust
is built on trust.

Be a freak,
be real,
be you,
be proud,
the carnival lives within
your skin.

It’s rusted, crusted,
and crumbling within
the freaks are coming
to a city near you.

The carnival of rust always leaves their dust.
We the freaks
know how to live,
24\7 the certain never goes down. 

Sadness

With cold tears
that stain my cheeks,
a kiss from sadness
turned them into lost dream’s.

As I am lost,
walking these hall’s
of forgotten memories.
I became like the rose
on a winter’s day,
I froze.

With sadness as my friend,
he sat and cried with me.
Sadness was there
when no one cared for me.

I stand for freedom and liberty

I think I have seen too many media lies, so I wrote this poem about what I read. I disagree with a lot of things that I see and hear from news and Facebook. This poem is my opinion nothing more.

We the people,
by the the people,
for the people,
stand united
as one nation
under God.

Though this is what I think.
We should change the meaning to the colors of our flag.
To…

Red is for,
the blood that was shed.
Blue is for,
the sea’s we fled.
White is for,
pure Government’s
over our rights.

I am ashamed to call
the United State’s free.
When every moment
that goes by
that our Government
spends our money,
we the people,
lose jobs,
homes,
lives,
war,
and control over our lands.

I will not stand by
and watch,
as The United States rots.

I will fight for truth
and freedom of rights,
for all men and women,
not just who live in
the united States
but the world.

From sea to shining sea,
from lands green and brown,
with purple majesty.
From me to you,
and you to me,
I stand for freedom
and liberty
not Government
and their rights
to take away our liberty.

Be free,
be you,
be proud to be human.
Fight, live, love, and share.

I feel sorry for my Government
they have a big job.
yet maybe,
too big for them to handle.

I pray that someday,
the Government will loss
their need for greed
and gain
their need for love,
and respect
for their fellow man.

For The Moment

The warmth of the sun
slowly moved through the room,
this chamber smells of heat.

Emotions pine,
as time passes
with each dying breath
of the sun’s amber glow. 
My time is that
like sands in an hourglass
smoothly sifting through its hole.

Mingling poetry
with thoughts
and ink smears
dripping with plots.

Aw yes, with a poetic high
I give off a sigh.

My ink spilt and
I became like a wonded animal,
I became wild
and ragged
in my deep thoughts.

Perfectly Fine

I am going for it
If I don’t do this
I’ll never have a chance to try again.
If I don’t do this
I’ll lose my chance to try.

It’s the same old sound
same old familiar sting.
The same collapse
of every thing that I failed.

It’s the same slice of meat,
same rusty nail,
The same old lies,
same old vein
that bleeds every time.

It’s
My shin
My face
My height
My rights
My time
I make so many mistakes.

My shin
My face
My height
My rights
My time
I’m such a disgrace,
time laughs in my face.

I’m perfectly flawed
I’m perfectly incomplete
Like cracks in the wall
and faded photographs in broken frames.

I’m perfectly flawed
I’m perfectly incomplete
Let them condemn
the imperfections we keep.
Be proud you’re perfectly unique.

Nothing left to lose,
your perfect as you.
Nothing left to lose,
your perfect as you.

Its the same old doubt,
The same old dream’s
It’s the same sabotage
cause my shadows my enemy.

It’s the same parasite,
feeding on the betrayed.
It’s the same business,
taking from the poor.
Their the mistake
their such a disgrace.

Nothing left to lose,
your perfect as you.
Nothing left to lose,
your perfect as you.

I’m perfectly flawed,
perfectly fine,
just like a shinny new dime.
I promise I’m perfectly fine.

Strife

My anxiety starts to crawl
out from deep within my soul,
within its depths starts to burn and cauterizes my insides.

Such strife,
it strip’s away at my life.
Slowly I chip away,
My clay slowly dry up as,
I wonder off the beaten path,
when I meet myself along the way.
A reflection of my past
and my unforgettable experiences.

I a deep thinker
sat awhile to drown in my life,
in my strife I find breath
and lacking none in creativity.

Feathered Muse

I flew in from the cold, 
my shadow a fluster 
sat up on this frozen bust. 
A gaunt of a man 
stood down below, 
yelling obscenities 
I’m not sure at whom he’s cursing.
I just stood there minding my own, 
then a rock was thrown. 

This human keeps cursing, 
keeps bursting with frustration. 
I decided to move a little, 
he didn’t see me coming. 
This stupid human, 
knows nothing of a ravin. 
Aw he thinks me to be a craven 
or a ghost from the past 
coming at last. 

If only he knew, I am lost. 
Nothing more than a flustered thing 
with a broken wing. 
Yet he took me in, 
Helped my wing. 
I leave him alone 
and confused. 

I see this man from year’s past, 
he welcome’s me back. 
Aw with such poetic finance, 
and respect 
for I am his feathered muse. 

The Raven I am.

The Shady Rose

The roses are always shady,
you think their friendly
but then when you pick them
their thorny.

Shady are we
beauty lays close
but our roots are deeper yet,
and our thorns now they,
they are known to bite.
thorny
thorny are we.

Roses a perfumed bed
for a drowsy head,
thorns will prick
but dreams will slip
and the nightmares will take grip.

The Shady Rose

Writer’s Block

One block at a time,
all word’s became empty
and meaningless.

Road block’s never undo unless you get rid
of the blockage. 

Writer’s block really sucks ink.

Salvation

Weeping Angels bow their heads,
the dark memories gather in my dread.
My shadow grows
as time thrust me like a dagger
into this doom.

It’s darkness falls against
my naked soul.
It slays me,
and darkly my essence drips
to the wicked earth
that is my salvation.

In a strange
and terrible glee I dance,
while Death’s shadow approaches me.
Now as darkness declines,
my application of light
falls upon the Angels darkened eyes.

This is and was my salvation.

No More Mercy nor patience

There’s no mercy,
nor patience
within the world today.

Maybe we all have lost our way,
somewhere in between
our selfish ways.

I feel sorry for us all,
for the love
and support
we give too none anymore.

No more than weeping children we’ve become.
Complaining on social media,
all we think is wrong.

When maybe that is what is wrong.