The Rose that Knew no-limits.

As the rose tells me of the struggles it faced, yet succeeded.

The rain dripping, the wind challenging; as she blow’s in the wind,

Her root’s, her family of flowers. never cease development;

always amounting to success, strength. She appears the strongest,

Her root system, strengthens those from “beneath”. and the pedals one day, will reach the heavens.

As a well guided team, under the commandment of the “largest” head of the rose; within the traditional themed garden.

Bringing the less strong up, with nutrition. They’re bringing the ground with the team. Nothing gets left behind. As the ground lift’s,

It spirals with the rooting system attached. The angel’s shine the sun, to lift, the mass of soil.

The ground, shall never be without its beauty. They need one-another, the humbleness of the “grounding”

needs the beauty of the rose garden – they’re as a separate society, within the mass of society.

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Drugs.

The pipe warm’s; dream’s half dreamt, take ahold – What they’re shooting for became what they’ve cried about – a sea of empty dreams flow from out the eyes. In the pursuit of money, to fill their habit, but the habit had taken hostage of the mind. Their empty chest, containing their blackened heart pumps, but for how long?  For the white – they’ll lose sight – a snowy winter day, chasing eurphoria. They’ve chased a dream; their “dreams”, firing from a handgun, strikes their throat, and within the hand, holds a rocky ounce. Once proud wolves, taken by the pipe of regret – their heart was a rock, attached to their mind – Redirecting the strings, to play out, an unfulfilled life and an early grave. Their negative memories play within their parents mind’s.

Walking Down a Lonesome Path.

Walking down a road, within an isolated community; i know it’s for the best. My boots feel heavy, the heaviness weighs me down, I can feel the water splashing from within, i feel blister’s on my feet… The breeze feels cold within my hair, my hair casts to the sides, as her’s would have, memories pop within the mind. And seemingly my boots feel heavier, more full. I notice leaf’s of the trees, they’re ending in their time’s – feeling hopeless. I tell myself it’s for the best. Flower’s are dying, the clouds look full, and needing release – My eyes feel heavy, my soul beat, my face flushed – i don’t cry, i don’t hope anymore, i continue down my path – My energy depleted. I see a car buzz by me in a mocking manner. A white owl, is within the tree taking notice of my struggles. I stop, look towards the bird. another owl goes towards, and sits beside. I figure it’s a female. I pay attention to the colour’s – The feather’s look warm, full. i begin go onwards down my path. I notice the heat coming from towards the home’s and lighting my path, I begin to stumble, my backpack begins to feel more full… more tight around my shoulder’s – i envision her hugging me, like she had… The difference between than and now, is she was intoxicated – i was her drinking buddy, her supplier, rather than a true interest. I understand victory, i understand defeat more so. The houses begin to look, more solid, more beautifully designed in appearance – i figure it’s the sighting of a better community – A better future.

Crackhead

Men that grew up like concrete, became liquified.

Hard time’s hit, they were’t prepared, they were immature.

Their soul’s got black, their eyes hallow, their posture wrong.

They search, the darkness of the streets, for the future that was once promised.

They found a white rock instead, sent by the devil himself, wrapped in a future, that will never arrive.

streets take ahold, the crack pipe warmed, their eyes drip.

their lungs ache, their heart need ease, but all they see, is what they came to believe.

Within the future they see narrowly, at the end of this vision – there’s a door, key hidden out-of-sight.

The future within the rock, the door that has been locked.

One miserable time, and they soon became a slave, to what they’ve been desiring.

For their dream, their life fades, winter shall never be over.

Death by Overdose

The rock forms around the water – individuality is dead, society became duplicated – the printer, prints; never slowing to decide on its ethical stand – conformists. Living within a world we look to television for our fashion – the personality doesn’t blossom as it previously had, the pedals drift in the wind – negativity remains. strong hate stays, They’re marching in a  single-fashion, their one size boots hitting the ground with vigorousness – the blue jacket stands out in the darkness. The soul, searching for different, never quite finding the spark; they see dead frowns mass produced; eyes appear sad, overworked, overused, their face is old, and hungering for another fix. Time continues and shall bring change, the junkies die, the dealer’s find a bullet – their organs, fail and their bodies shake – A pipe falls to the ground, hitting the ground with a sweet release, the shadow comes out, and sinks beneath -Danced with the devil, He overcame their mind with ease, and destroyed the GAME. One by one, they met their fate.

Soaring as a narcissistic Eagle.

I soar like an Eagle, gliding right; dabbling in lefts. My mind fixates upon an immense goal and my bleeding, large feet grasp the barrier; first scrapping off the dead corpses of the lesser – quickly eating the others , in a vigorous manner – this massive barrier, has multiple chapters, and worded paper – to me, this is the greatest of the my nutritious meal – money, knowledge and i symbolize freedom. Each barrier is taken upwards, taken for myself, those around, gasp in disbelief, ponder perfection, yet i keep flying upwards, increasing in speed, until i find my nest…

Forgotten Play-ground, Hears laughter.

In the playground we once played, the swings became rusted, the ropes knotted and old. The slide broken. The screams we once heard became vivid memories we once enjoyed. Our iPhones become new and heavily used, the screen high definition, the processor fast. Our brains became unused. I still go to the ‘ground i once admired, nothing appears the same, the generation is regressing to their device. around my eyes become drenched because i pray for the day’s where the man was man. and the slide was usable, the swings swung. and the ground printed with happiness.

The Deer That Had a Wild Passion

I stand among the other beasts, i call to the others, let’s move. let’s progress upwards onto this hill, we need to find a deer, a possum, anything to feed our stomachs, to provide us with strength and power… The other animals were less excited, lazier than the deer… we eventually entered the same page… We began to chase down a deer, and the deer progressed out of the premise, our quick steps were no match, we accelerated faster… But the deer was PASSIONATE about his surroundings, he understood the area much more… The next day we saw the deer. And we set our trap, we circled the deer and began to munch on his body, ripping flesh, destroying his caucus. And we learned from then on that sometimes talent beats passion.