PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

These curses I evoke are the

words spoken by angels,

toking knowledge and wisdom,

an invitation to eat from the

tree of life...become a God; the

difference between a schizo and

I, a schizo does not believe I

am God-

I cannot pray, the tongues I

speak are not angelic...my

language is unholy; time after

time temptation became a friend

too trust, my life balances on
different scales now; what I

knew and the unknown-

The end of my journey began

the day I was born...invocations

of death at my front door, I

welcome her in, stays for awhile

then leaves in an uproar; she
says I am conspiring to kill
her from my existence...she does

not know death/her is more alive

than me-

My curse is poetic, too narrate my

life with pain and roller-coaster

emotions; an empty feeling without

being empty...became a father only

too miss my daughter daily, if I sleep
tonight I will shed tears of sadness

before I slumber-

Broken, yet stronger after each fall

too stand tall again, take a few steps

and fall again...judges keep your jury
silent, throw away your verdict;

judge my soul, critic my efforts when

I am standing up...everyone falls!

Outside my window the wind blows

and whistles, tree leaves rattle,

whispering; no vacancy in the

gallows, fire away...my ammunition

are these words I convey, "While
you creep, your soulmate sleeps

with the poet unknown, daydreaming
unknown dreams, consciously lost in

lust."

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