Consuming Thoughts

There are thoughts inside me,
But I can’t seem to let them free!
The thought of not letting them out is frustrating me!

Its like all the feelings are stuck inside,
I try to let them out oh you have no idea how hard I’ve tried,
And still they stay hidden inside!

I have no idea what I feel,
Whether I am happy, sad, or even if my feelings are real,
I just can’t tell what my emotions and mind feel!

I want to scream out,
And let go of all doubt,
Yet I can’t even describe what there is to let out.

I wish I could tell you,
Could explain how I feel and what I want to do,
Although with everything in my mind my mouth has nothing to tell you.

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poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Six Feet Below

Past the fence is where they lay,
This is their home, this is their ground,
This is where they cry,
In this place they rest and are never found.

Here he put them when he was through,
Here is the place he comes when his work is done,
They all lay and watch, they used to be few
Now it has become his hobby what he does for fun.

They want to tell you, they send you dreams,
Yet we block these dreams for we are scared,
We shall never know what it means,
And so we shall be in darkness and the pain will never be repaired.

In this hidden graveyard they lay,
They watch people walk past unknowing,
They watch them day by day.
Being the only ones that know the truth, they hold the knowing.

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poem by Bethany Maxwell
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The Grave You Dig Is Your Own

The tears of our ancestors fall upon our graves,

In which we have placed ourselves by our own decieving hand.

We are to be hung by the gallows, of which we build ourselves,

With jelousy and pride our noose has been woven.

The winds of time gone by, and time to come, blow past our funeral’s march,

Attended by those who also attend their own,

Generations to come wait in wonder of our knowledge,

Lies and deceit we have written and call truth.

Dreams of dreamers, whose lives have flowed past us, create a parallel reality,

An impossible event like that of a circle encompassed in another whom touch.

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poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Unbroken

Tomorrow is another day,
So don't let today stop you.
Tomorrow is unbroken,
Even if today is shattered,
If you want to know how this day could end,
Look upon tomorrow and you will see profection,
Tomorrow is unbroken.

A child in the womb is another heart,
So don't let them fall before their time,
The unborn are unbroken,
Even if the people here are wrong,
If you want to see who they become,
Look upon everyone and you shall see change,
Unborn are unbroken.

Teens are another body,
So don't let them free before they are ready,
They are unbroken,
Even if some are lost,

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poem by Bethany Maxwell
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In Dawns Light

Grasped in his hand
The source of ones life, ones self.
On the mans grave is where he stands.
Raising lifes container high a glint of lust upon his eye
Everyone chanting, a thousnd bands.

He smiles his risty smile, he blinks his bloody eyes.
He watches as blood runs down his arm, to its pooling lake.
For he knows that on this night it signifies all who will die.
The will die innecent, young, by his command.
And they know he means what he orders, for he never lies.

He opens his mouth as if to speak,
Yet he does not say, he only raises the thing to his mouth
As he pours the blood into his mouth the sun starts to peak.
It is dawn they shall attack.
As he stands, in his hand he holds his drink.

He thrusts his arm up and the battle shall start,
He looks over the man, and he grins, a grin of hate of power,

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poem by Bethany Maxwell
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The Game Of A Life Time

You walk through the battle
Watching for the people for a kill
You sit high in the saddle
You are here still

You walk bast the tank and to the rest stop
You watch them move around you and you raise your gun
Two guys at the side, one on top,
You aim you gun, and the battle has begun.

You slowly moe to your right watching all sides,
Yet someone sees you and trys to hit you,
You turn around and just barley out of the way you slide.
As you lay in wait you ponder what to do.

They people come closer and one comes from the rear,
They hold their gun to your head as you turn over
You look in their eyes as the shoot you, to the end you are near
You lay there dying and it all goes black for you it is game over

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poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Redemption

I sit in a world that is my reality,
As I ponder the meaning of mortality.

It is my destiny it is my fate,
To leave behind this world of hate.

Today I wonder a world of perplexity,
Tomorrow I dance in a being of no complexity,

I will have no fear I will have no insecurity,
As I walk through the fields of purity.

I will leave all the hate and pains,
And I shall live in a world with no chains.

I will live in peace and I will live in serenity,
And I shall gain my full identity.

I shall not die I shall merely fade to a world of fantasy,
I will fumble with the perfect existence and living in a state of being like ecstasy.

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poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Book Of Days

Your life is as a book
Written on the pages are the weeks
For you would give anything to take just one look
Into the next chapter, the next page

Each page is a new thought, a new dream
Sometimes it takes so long to pass that page
And sometimes nothing is as it seams
For you know you can not go ahead or back

You know you are where you are
You know you can't change that
As you read page to page, so near to fear
You write the chapters as you go, with each turn

Each turn, each move changes what's to come
And you know each moment could be the last
With this in mind you go so mumb
So numb to the touch, to the thought

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poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Jumping Horses

As you step into the arena,
Your heart rushes,
Horse following close behind,
Giving you steady nudges.
You mount yourself slowly into the English saddle
You move toward the jump.
Faster, faster.
Your feet ready in the stirrups
In jumping position,
As you grow closer to the jump
You are overcome by a weird sensation,
A sensation of happiness, nervousness, and excitement
As you post you feel the heart rate of the horse.
You are both one.
Faster, and faster still,
You feel as if you where flying,
Your horse raises its front legs,
You are flying!
Over the jump you feel relaxed,
You feel great.

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poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Music Of The Night

In the night the music plays,
I lay alone in the covers hidden from the dark,
I do not turn I do not look, I listen to the music play,
The horror of reality has left its’ mark,
On my soul, on my mind,
I am alone in the truth, in the past.
I know what they have seen, as others are blind,
I know the cast,
Of their play, of their lives,
Yet I still lay here scared, weak,
It is on my knowing that they thrive,
So I am left, weak.
The music plays over the sounds, all their goodbyes
I do not hear them, yet I feel them,
I see their faces, their eyes,
I know they hold onto life by it’s hem,
Trying not to let go, to hold to life,
They hold onto me, my mind,
I am their source of life,
And so I lay, waiting for sleep,

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poem by Bethany Maxwell
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