knock,knock?

They came a knocking on my door,
I said I have more then what I bargained for,
They wouldn't hear,they ignored.
They came a knocking on my door.

The pastor told me they will heed,
All through the sermon he said they would stop.

Pray to the lord!he said,
in the name of the father,son and holy ghost.
Read every chapter and every verse in the book,
committed them to my memory if I could.

Believe,trust ,hope and pray
Stopped and searched for that Amazing Grace!

God-Hope or Insanity?

I pledged to break the seven deadly sins,
or go as far as my conscience could.

The pledge now seems  pointless to me
A waste of life and energy
I think Iam fated to be on my knees
ardent and oh!so sincere.

Can I go back to the time when the pledge was made
but neither can I stay in the dirty maze
of name calling,image and who gives a damn?!
I'll stick to my original plan!

I'll stick to my original plan!

MY ROAD

 Iam tired of this
I want to stop
stop being so stupid
so emotional
what and where does it get me?

I want to run and never stop
where theres a road
or create one
tired,frustrated of lifes constant punches time to punch back
I dream of catching a road and never getting off it
meet people I never met
go to plains I never would
don't want  to find my soul want to loose it
and never discover her again
old me begone by the spirit of recklessness be gone
never come to this body again

hitch a ride to this place
a place where smiles don't have baggage
and opinions and actions needn't be justified
where nothing but you just you matter
Neon lights pave the sides of these roads
cheap and unhibited
laying there untouched but conveying romanticism to the road
come with me hitch a ride on my wishful-thinking bus
I got plenty of room
laughter is frequent and loud
dreams are  many and uncensored
life is a cricle or a straight line
its a video game only you are the creator
my utopian road oh!my utopian road
where music and freedom are not just lyrics
where money is not a road sign
love,lust,innocence is not mocked
cynicism and sarcasm are not needed to guard yourself
the road has potholes
potholes of inspiration
my utopia,my utopia!

All the questions I dread?

Am I a conformist by not conforming?
Do I or we make choices or just choose to name them so?

I heard somewhere once that there are no "mistakes"in life am I not making enough of them?

Am I too scared to go with the flow?
will I jump at the first sign of love,but then again is that a bad thing?
Will I repeat the mistakes that my parents made or will I invent something new for my kids?
When my hands are just a mangle of nerves and hair as white as snow
and when I look into the mirror will I like what I see or what others see?
I 'am having a great ride or is the ride having me?
and most importantly will I die young/old?

THEY TOLD HER

"You  have to be the wise one" they said to the little girl
You are not  allowed to cry
you are into the fortress they said while stopping her mid-twirl
You are ruining it ,you cant fix it,you are too shy

She waited outside the door of every storm
she waited out the blues
she waited for happiness in its old form
she fooled herself,she waited for the promises to come true

she walked on like they said she should
she felt responsible for every success and failure
she clung to memories of yesteryears ,they said she could
dolls,dresses and chocalates had no place here

she was the only responsible adult
she was the only responsible kid
she soon discovered she was a seperate cult
a cult for those who were stuck between their adult and kid

she did know if she could be anything but her
so she became her now
she became the cults only survivor
knowing not to define herself now

swirling stars,candy and laughter are gone
a suffocating silence takes its place
the participaticipation of feeling is not allowed
 emancipation is forbidden lest she is relieved
how can she then punish herself?

every feeling is drained every dream is forbidden 
every blame is taken
every word is remembered yet

EVERY moment wants to be forgotten.

reminiscence

lazy hot summer afternoons

they seemed endless and short

wish they come back soon

a time when ice tea would hit just the right spot

adults slept like the beanstalk giants

the beanstalk roared adventure

when a warm breeze was welcomed by our capes

and our skates lifted off the ground

afternoon cycle-hurdle-race a big event

an ice cold popsicle the crown

gashes and blood was no excuse

it didn't matter if your cribs were pink or blue

the sharp glint against the sun

our trusted silver papered swords

protected our land from the unimaginative giants

kept safe the world of little people- Excalibur in our hands

I have lost my excalibur

my world is safe no more

Iam myself too big for it

my men in arms are too, no more

The hurdles are getting bigger

I can't get through no matter how unique I thought I would be

The crown has lost its glory

The cape doesn't seem a must anymore

My skates are always on the ground

"stay grounded"seems to be "in"

should I stay grounded?

aren't I  already "out"?