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*God Sent Me An Angel From Underneath His Wing*

September-18-2000 
Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins

When darkness comes to sea 
There's light to save my soul 
God sent me an angel to be 
With a message untold 
To protect whats left of my heart 
And close to her my life she will hold 
To keep my life from falling apart

An angel so magical and so deep 
So very bright 
Up so high flying above so many feet 
I've never seen such a beautiful sight

Gods creation he sent to me 
To protect my soul my inner being 
From all evil this angel from my presence 
She will keep me safe and free 
She will help me keep my innocence 
My life she will give it a meaning

God sent me an angel 
From underneath his very own wing 
To guide me through thick and thin 
To show me the difference between bad and good 
A love my angel will always bring 
Forever and always next to me she stood 
Knowing she'll always be there 
Makes me strong enough for any situation to win 
Because my angel will always care

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*Dreams*

December-11-2002 
Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins

I a rise from dreams of the one i care 
The night of the first sleep 
I rest within the sheets bare 
A dream i must want to keep 
Stars burning their gases at night 
And the dream catchers are at my feet 
Soon will come morning light 
And every time i awake with a memory so sweet

So as i wake to greet the morning sun 
A new day is born 
For new dreams my way are to come 
For last nights dreams have been worn 
And may never in my dream world return

Anytime soon again i will be 
The prisoner of the dark silent stream 
And once again my dreams roam so free 
My thoughts will leave me to dream 
In store and ready for anything to see

Many directions the dream may go 
Where my dreams may take me i have no idea 
No one will really know 
Many dreams have no end 
Where others its not up to you where you they send 
To many people some seem so real not pretend

When i wake up to see what i wrote 
You to yourself have nothing to show 
Not even a short little note 
So every night you decide to just go with the dreams flow

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*All The Colors of Nature*

October-10-2000 
Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins

The color of all the leaves when they change 
For when they get ready for winter 
Where all the animals get arranged 
And you trying to get out that wood splinter

For the winters snow will begin to fall 
When the insects go into hiding 
You know they heard the colds call 
Watching all the animals deciding

All the colors of nature 
Change the look of everything 
All the leaves color the pasture 
All the beauty that nature has to bring 
In the kids hearing all their laughter 
A calm sound when the nature sings

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My Grandfathers Toys

 

Monday through Sunday at any given hour me and my cousins would be expecting our grandfather to drop by and give us some new toys. From water guns, to action figures that stick to windows, to light up pens with musical tunes, we could always expect to get a new toy from my grandfather. I could see him as a modern Santa Clause driving in an old white Toyota overflowing with games and toys of every shape and color on the back and front seats, on the floor and even on the panel. Every time he came over to my house, even though he knew the answer, he would ask me if I wanted a toy. And every time I would say “yes!” With an excitement that made my blood run faster. He would go back to his “magic car”, as I used to call it, and he would bring back two options from which I had to choose. He would have both toys in either one of his hands and had them behind his back. He would first tell me to choose a hand, I could hear the cracking plastic that would protect them from getting any damage, then he would give me the toy that corresponded to either the right or left side but then I would ask for both toys, because I knew he would normally give me both, and he would say I will give you the other one under the condition that you give me a hug and a kiss. Of course I would agree to the terms and end up with two new toys. I can’t remember a day that I didn't see him smiling, I had never seen him mad or sad, never with a frown, only smiles were allowed within his expressions. All of his joy was reflected on the quantity of toys that he had accumulated in his car. The funny thing is that the toys that he gave us would always break a few hours after playing with them. They were Mexican toys which meant colourful and fun but made with a very bad quality. Those toys were more than pieces of colourful plastic, they were physical demonstrations of love and care which he knew that they will make us happy. My grandfather loved to play with us and he was very good with his hands. He would sometimes even make wood toys for us like tops or rocking horses and in special occasions he would buy us fireworks or video games. My grandfather loves me and my cousins and he loves to give more than to receive. He is a great man and a better role model.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This prose poem was inspired by my grandfather go loved me and all of my family very much. 

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There was once a boy.

Waiting has never been my past time

But you arrived and kept my hopes up;

Everyday and every night,

My mind was running fast all the time.

 

I suddenly got tired,

Went back to the normal boring life before you.

Everything was running smoothly,

I’m ecstatic and free,

Thank you for making me wait.

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British Surprise

British weather is cold and windy,

One two three

He is like no other.

 

Accidents happen most of the time;

He is her accident,

He is her surprise; a wonderful surprise.

 

Thousand miles away,

Are hands that are yet to be touched,

Lips to be kissed,

And bodies to meet.

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The key to happiness

I would introduce myself but it doesn't matter who I am.

I am insignificant, like you. 

 

No one will remember my name or what I have done,

Or rather what I haven't done.

But to dwell on this thought would be like giving in,

Letting your insignificance stop you from living.

 

Do not focus on being who people want you to be,

Do not let success be your only option,

Do not fear disappointment or failure,

Simply live.

 

Never regret anything that makes you smile,

Never forget those irresponsible times that made you who you are today,

Don't let yourself be the picture everyone else has painted you to be,

Be you,

Be true,

Fuck the system. 

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Curses Too Kritic/ Invocations From The Soul- Part Four and Five

An hour pass midnight, my curse is

sleepless, mind weary, creative

thinking, imaginary vision; sleep-

walking in my dreams between

dimensions....Constantine!

 

Too walk in the dark one must

embrace the darkness, welcome

Moloch into your dreams, be aware

of the shadows that walk besides

you; often three shadows follow me

....nothing else matters once you

have sold your soul, enjoy the night

,and let the fire burn!

 

I met a lover in the shadows of the

night; her darkside is similiar to mine

, same interest, struggles, and

addiction....when all is quiet, stoner's

asleep, tweeker's hiding, and prosti-

tutes gone home, my lover and I get

naked and fuck at the crossroads

under dark skies, no moonlight....

only shadows!

 

Curse the damned, blasphemous,

heaven's abomination including me....

pale horse rider of the armageddon

with sinister ways; my name was

never written in the book of life!

 

Invocations to the dark, evil, and

unholy with sacrifice will open the

nine gates of hell; be careful when

evoking the spirits of darkness; if

your mind is not ready for what is to

come, your heartbeat will stop at

the sound of my feet approaching

your dreams, destroying your

sanity!

 

It is 2:10AM, invocations to the dark

side are becoming rituals, rites of

dragula, perversions, and manisfes-

tations; Lucifer speaks in demonic

tongues, no need to translate, I

understand! Invocations to Lillith

with ghost songs in cemeteries at

the witching hour; my soul possess,

the evil within bleeds over the tombs

of the dead!

 

SoulKritic 2014 Copyright

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Curses and Invocations....

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The Hoarding Song

Folder: 
Funny by Me

The Hoarding Song


Yes, I'm a Hoarder-and my life ain't complete..

   without boxes to the ceiling, and cat poop on my feet...

I wondered just the other day

what is that putrid smell?

I only counted 19 cats...it must be Jezebel!

Laughing

Oh, I'm a Hoarder-and the only space I have

is a tiny little clean spot on my cat stained mattress pad...

And I sleep pretty good at night,

and mostly through the day...

strangely my only plight? 

They wanna throw my stuff away!

Laughing

When Christmas time comes once again, 

I'll feel safe and happy here...

And once Jezebel stops stinkin'

come get yer presents, Dear!

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