The saviour is You

Who gives the morning sun

To light a million smiles?

Who writes the suites of passion

To turn joy from a peasant’s cry?

Who blames himself

When doubts deafen the soul,

And overcome sadness

To escape from what people mould?

Dawn, sweat and dusk,

All ways lead to one

That an end is must

For those under the same sun.

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Rectum of the Uranus (Dark Poem from the Humour Vault)

Thunder, lighting, tremors and rain

A silent losing battle inside my brain

No one seem to understand quite

The isolation and end that I desire

Contempt and grin behind their eyes

While I succumb to their laugh and whine

A secret memorabilia of an old friend

The Darkness in me never seems to end

 

Wish that I could run away from it all

find shelter under an angel’s breath

Question my courage and I will not refuse

to answer your crimes in hell’s due

What awaits there shouldn’t bother me now

Because I know good people end up how

No more Mr. Nice Guy to you

I have always found joy in solitude

I hare crimes, Lord!

I am a beggar of justice

And if I’d overdone my pleads

Believe me when I have over done my deeds.

Gentle commotion – short on anxiety

Gentle commotion in my brain

Tearful extravaganza down the lane

Hearing things believed to be true

Finding naught left me mute

Cold showers and comfy lies

My company through the night

Wondering where I will end up was my thought

At first I seemed to be on course

Sore eyes, red and bloat,

Don’t mind when I shut the door

Imagine eventual calamity disengage

I stumble on place and panic and shame

Of all the things I wish not my friend

Gentle commotion never seems to end