I Tell You Now I'm Not The One Who You Think I Am

Being of the top I never wanted
Take it, and be gone satans son
For I am not who you want.
Of great intellects I'm not
I see my self as a hack
Because someone says your good
This is not what I do
Only as a hobby I keep telling you
But know one listens.
No one ever listens.
In time it is something I shall not be missing
Let them be the poe's
Let them be the blake's
Let them be the shakespear's and frost's
For I am not them and care nothing for the fame
I hate it, as Bob Dylan hates his fans
I tell you now I'm not the one who you think I am
I most of all hate the censorship that comes with it.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Sinking Laughter

A faded dream comes to me.
I can see the fickle irony.
What is it that we believed would truly happen?
Were we lying to ourselves the entire time?
Is it in the laughter that it becomes contagious and we suddenly forget?
Is that the intention?
Something we prefer not to mention.
With the lord gone, have we been abandoned?
The ship sinking we should soon get off.
Into to the life boats it's the only way to survive.
The water is to cold to just jump off.
Still some will with a fear of dying.
I can still hear the children crying.
Oh mercy me, In this laughter please oh please let me forget.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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A Letter To His Replacement

Harsh is a loss of love, and to replace its stead is not as easy as slicing bread.
Especially when one is so selective.
An elective not of your choice, but of his heart.
A caressing start.
But time over that which one obsesses.
Faults are created and can be easily agitated.
Gentle one says as if your capturing a butterfly within your hands.
Once damaged he will never be the same.
His vulnerabilities are not to blame.
His weakness is his pain.
And her hands have become stained.
He will loathe with an oath as a promise he takes to his grave.
A distraction is what he needs, that is what he craves.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Underneath

My easy heart follows
I'm not but the way I am
A symptomatic urge to please
I just love this disease
Let the arteries bleed
Let me fill the red sea
Let me do this in your company
A presence of happiness and laughter is all I need to see
An existence to breathe
This is my desire
With my soul lighting the fire
No need to rewire
Their is not a god damn thing wrong with me
So stop acting like you my cure
Rest assure you don't you won't
To personal for my taste
So much negative energy
Its just a waste
Can you relate
Drama shoved right your tehe

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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My Angel (In Response To A Poem Called My Knight)

Sometimes what we love the most will never see the light.
Not in a way most people understand.
A occasional midnight cry that is only heard through words.
A plea for help and understanding.
A calm steady hand in need of a little bit of mending.

That angel still whispers to me on a scarce night.
One where the wind blows a certain way.
As prayer for a better day.
With the stars glistening under the twilight.
And the flames burning bright.
I don't need her.

When the stars dim and the fire fissile out.
When the darkness engulfs my own since of being.
She is my angel and she is always there waiting.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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My Northern Lights

I am happy of who I am.
Their is not a alternate fantasy.
Emotions swell inside me.
I know what my purpose and goals are
And they don't reach that far.
In my mind I think I'm fine.
When they think I'm not.
They try get me to sit on the chair as they listen.
To tell them of my problems.
I'm sorry but will not.
Writing is my therapy.
Writing is my solution.
I create another world.
Please don't try to tell me to stop.
For it will destroy everything.
Just listen as my heart explodes.
Sends all kind of colours shooting across the midnight sky.
This is my northern lights and I want them to shine bright.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Nigerians

In Nigeria oh the constant sadness it brings
scam after scam
oh how they love wealthy American men and women
oh how dark desires brings so much dismay.
with a photograph and the perfect speech
they fall one by one hook line and sinker
in only a couple days
oh they preach
tho are the poor Nigerians
the men behind the women's mask
faceless is the task
money is what binds them to you
with words like glue
their plans fall through
I'm sorry but you have just been screwed
And you might ask by who
oh tho are the poor Nigerians

~ Don't believe all are this way because of one.
Any prejudice can be undone.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Those Who Will Continue On

Tossed out on the street like filthy hogs.
Jumping from shelter to shelter.
Another lost mother.
Another lost father.
Another lost child.
What is it that they now call home?
How do you get a hold of them.?
Bouncing from place to place.
Such a disgrace.
Humiliation with not an ounce of pride,
Humble and brave.
But still they try to survive.
Rather then committing suicide.
A forever a question of why.
But they know it doesn't matter for the facts lie in front of them.
They can't wait for change.
They have to make it.
They have to create it.
In a world so dark their are those who will continue on.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Do You Know What's Behind That Door?

Well no, I'm not exactly sure.
Tell me good sir, what is behind it?
Is it the land of make believe and fantasy?
Or a harsh reality that makes you feel as if you are still standing out in the cold?
Upon entering the door is their some kind of transformation that occurs?
Wisdom gained with patiences endured.
A magical cure that lures.
An entrance to a completely different world.
A view point that is not so obscure.
Suddenly you can see across the horizon as the sun is setting you see all your previous hope and dreams.
And come to a realization that can be still be achieved.
Wow what a philosophy.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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His Mystical Powers

Go ahead bite me.
All that you will taste is flesh blood and skin.
I am human as human can be.
I'm no demon underneath.
And I beseech you to stop acting so.
Hey look it's the alien from out space.
In all his glory.
In all his disgrace.
His mystical powers we can devour by the hour.
I feel like a mix of sweet and sour sauce.
I'm frequently accosted like freak not of this world.
A dabble in all the paints look at all the colors as they swirl.
It is a pearl by any other name.
A unique flaw that can never be of the same.
So the comparison that is made will just never due.
Deny it, but I still hear you.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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