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The Moonfall Is Coming


R.I.P | My Nakedness for all to See | Poetry | Poetry 2 | People of the World | Born in a Burial Gown | Chitty Bang Bang | Wank it, Spank it, Whack it with a mole! | Art | Us (Jealous?) | Us 2 (Still Jealous?) | My Music

Hello to all you non-preppies. My website is basically just a buffet of different stuff so enjoy!

This is where most of my poetry is...visit it.
It's a great site!

Poem time:
This one is called 17, it's a narrative poem that I wrote a month ago. This is to let you get to know me.
A tragical family,
Born from a loveless seed.
Driven by love yet destroyed by hate,
A sign from above shall decide them their fate.

An awful thing this is to see,
A beaten boy at the age of three.
Unable to call out for help to come,
Being beaten by his father; the poor little son.
Divorce happened early in this state of distress,
The father raped the mother, which had caused so much stress.
Yet the little boy didn't know why things were wrong,
And so he blamed himself for the things going on.

Destitute and embittered he went through life,
Living with his mother his stepfather's new wife.
He never lived with other kids until then,
And so he was never alone by this time when.
Sometimes he got in trouble like little boys do,
Yet he still loved his family that much was true.
He went to see his father every other weekend,
And that's when the mind games started to begin.
His father told him lies untrue,
Saying things like, "Mommy doesn't love you."
And so he went back home to his little bed,
Then cried himself to sleep while resting his head.
In the morning he would wake up cheeks stained with tears,
And let himself be tricked by his father's fears.

So the day came that by the age of five,
When he wished that he no longer would stay alive.
So he threatened to do so in his kindergarten class,
Knowing full well that this would not pass.
Yet he grabbed some scissors and threatened to cut,
But in his mind he knew not what.

At the end of the year he went to live with his father,
Not knowing this caused his mother much stress and bother.
But still he went on till the age of fifteen,
Always held back by his father's ill means.
Mentally, physically, and spiritually beaten,
Yet put on medication for some unknown reason.
Blood drawn four times a year,
And always he was forced to yet he shed no tear.
His father knew nothing was wrong,
But he kept it this way to beat up his son.
Always doped up by buspar or lithium,
Yet stopped taking the pills and no one knew then.
And so, he started to realize with much hate,
That his father always beat him in a drunken state.
Only hitting him where no bruises can be seen,
Calling him names like "fag" and "drag queen".
Yet the boy kept going and knew in his heart,
That everything was a lie when it came to this old fart.
They got in a fight one day,
He put his father through a wall they say.
But now nothing else matters.

And so he moved back to his real family,
So he and his mother shed many tears you see.
But now he's certain that he is okay,
And that keeps him strong day after day.


This is a reduction in our lives,
Fear reigns supreme without any of that peace jive.
Hearts stop beating something fierce,
While we let our bodies get tattooed and pierced.
Mothers milk isn't as pure as once thought,
Taking their newborns to the black market to be bought.
Superman lost his powers again,
And now we don't have anyone to befriend.
People's hearts have turned to stone,
Children lie in the alleys weeping all alone.
Preachers no longer welcome with open arms,
Instead they welcome young choirboys with their "godly" charms.
Kids used to play cops and robbers,
Now they go out and have sex without rubbers.
Pimps and hookers roam the streets at night,
Hoping to sell at the right price.
People running for office use empty words,
Yet voters wonder why they vote for someone absurd.
Disruption is the new driving force,
But once again,
No one cares of course.

So this is our future to be,
And sadly our past you see.
All these people with nothing to do,
In this year of 2002.
                      Boys & Girls
Cry the game if you wish,
I won't listen.
Call me names you hate,
It doesn't matter.
All this hate stems from my life,
Pouring out like blood from a wound.
Cancerous tumors reside in us all,
Waiting for the dormancy to end.
My children,
Those who sing so sweet;
Take me to heaven with thy golden wings of purity.
Let me become one with the clouds,
Fly away with wings of glory.

Old man sitting on a park bench,
Feeding the birds that come to him.
Pretty girl in a swinging limb,
Always free of reality's whim.
Little boy left alone,
Lifeless body no one's home.
Pretty girl runs away,
Rape victim thirteen they say.
Little boy slowly rots,
Lifeless body on a cot.
Pretty girl cannot see,
Too much acid ecstasy.
Little boy finally dies,
Over dead body mommy cries.

                                                       A  Mother's Sacrafice
Drip, drip, drip...
Goes the droplets of blood,
Splattering onto the floor,
Rolling into the pattern etched there,
Filling it slowly.

Fuimas, Draco, fuimas...
Chant the voices,
The dead language of latin holds power,
We have been, Dragon, we have been,
Is the translation,
Winged creatures stare down at the sacrafice With blank eyes,
Gargoyle statues with mouths open and teeth Bared,
Emit soundless screams.

Wailing, screaming, useless...
The newborn gets weaker,
As it's blood is drained away,
It's life force weakening,
Draining slowly,
From the chest,
A tube attached.

Drip, drip, drip...
Goes the droplets of blood,
Splattering onto the floor,
Rolling into the pattern etched there,
Filling it slowly.

The mother looks on with sanguine hunger Eyes,
Chanting all the way...

ill nino
What comes around...


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My life is caught in a downward spiral...