A little prayer

Though many claim to have walked with God
Does not Satan posess feet as well?

When self-righteous followers turn to the clouds
Who should then look towards hell?

Each of these people spread the word of their Lord
And condemn the remainder to burn

Shedding blood for the cause of supposed love
Minds closed tight and unwilling to learn

For their sake I imagine a desperate prayer
That heaven or hell do thrive

Though I'm sure this prayer is in vain
For they'll waste death as they have time alive

For saying such things I've been scorned many times
And been told inferno is my fate

But I'd rather be cast to the hands of Hades
Than live in their 'holiest' hate

---

Right after I posted this, these ads popped up in the margin. I just thought it was a bit ironic. I guess the site picks out random words from whatever you last posted for the advertisements it shows you?:

Boom Boom Pow.

Your presence is that of an oncoming storm

As lightning you bring a brief yet blinding light
Only to vanish as suddenly as you came
Leaving scars wherein you fell

As an ominous cloud you roll unhurriedly across the horizon
Casting shadows in your wake
Sapping the feeble remnants of sunlight as you pass

As rain you drench everything in your essence
Soaking into each thing you touch
Soiling the earth with your acidity and grime

As thunder you announce your presence
Instilling fear to those within your path
And crazed paranoia of the inevitable

And your departure is that of a storm's aftermath
Innocents lay broken and forgotten behind you

The atmosphere clears
But blue skies remain too weak
To creep within the crevices
Of your slate gray walls

And a silence rings, ominous
Waiting for the moment that your charcoal tendrils
Will relinquish their grip upon the horizon.

Annie Boryk Korba

After reading my grandmother's journal, I decided to write this. The first line is an excerpt from the journal text.

"The impressions and feelings of one Annie Boryk Korba, to alleviate the many moments of loneliness"

Her perfume still lingers upon the page
Graceful scrawl with the flavor of wit

Tells the tale of a woman deprived
Craving to stand but forced to sit

Dreams too grand for her social stature
For the times, her hopes were too vast

Aspirations for the future had soured
So she turned her thoughts to the past

Her husband a traveling salesman
Forgotten, ten months of the year

And she, left at home with the children
Had to raise them upon contrived cheer

Though her years were numerous
To her each day was a dull game

For, when dreaming of fame and legend
Playing housewife just isn't the same

War, again

This is a subject that often comes to my mind, and I detest it. War. This is an incredibly short poem, I just wanted to get out a thought.

Every human
Is of the same
Blood
Flesh
Bones
So in war
Killing another
Resembles
Suicide

Alternate reality

Mother, you asked me just last night
To describe my friends, to shed some light

I shed the light, but cast shadows too
And the things that I told you were only half true

First there's friend A, star football jock
Drunk driving crash, now he can't even walk

Then there's friend B, top of the class
She's a heroine addict, can no longer pass

Next is friend C, best of all in the choir
Took up smoking last month, now her vocals tire

Then comes friend D, cheer captain loved by all
Pregnancy positive, she's not seen in the hall

Finally, there's friend E, painter of acclaimed skill
Starving artist indeed, bulimic and ill

Are you pleased with the perfection you see?
And if shaped by one's friends, what must I be?

Diagnosis.

A racing heart
A sickened stomach
A dizzy head.

Weak knees
Weak grip.

Restless nights
Restless days.

Sweaty palms.

Symptoms of some feverish disease?
Close.
Symptoms of love.

Chispa.

That simple spark
Begins a quest

For lust at least
For love at best

That simple spark
At times repressed

Sometimes missed
Sometimes guessed

That simple spark
Cracks open doors

New rules to break
New vast shores

That simple spark
Sets feelings free

To live life blind
To learn to see

That simple spark
Sets its own claim

If a spark proves love
Then what of a flame?