Forgive Each Others Mistakes

I elevated you so high, and allowed myself to free fall.
I wouldn’t believe what I chose to become, as I hit life’s brick wall.
Do you remember looking into my eyes as we promised each other it all?
Feel nothing, as you watch me fall, and you stood there looking so tall.

But through my heartache I forgot that we can all make mistakes.
And even though you were the perfect girl in my eyes.
And even though I love what love creates.
In the end we are only human, and even humans can keep making the same mistakes.

So I’m pulling my last rip chord, and I’m saving myself from certain death.
I will hit the ground running, and moving forward with my every breath.

Now through the scattered pieces of my heart, I remembered that we can all make mistakes.
And even though I’m not fully fixed, this broken heart forgives an imperfect girl.
And even though I love what love creates.
In the end you were only human, and even humans can forgive each others mistakes.

poem by Midnight Writer
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Tearing the World Apart

We smile because we are told. They say it makes us attractive, stand out and even bold.
Read all those books learning how, when the authors don't even believe the things being told.

How does society function from this facade, vain things, and empty words?
It runs in circles on lies, how things should be done, when we don't know why.
It's all a thin wall of plaster, put your hand on the wall, and break through it all.

We release things of worth to the air, burning it in the fires from the ground.
We build temples to vanity, hate, envy and let pride abound.
Where do the young look for courage, role models there are barely none.

You may turn aside from my banter and keep your life's canter.
Gallop like a horse to the things you desire, but in the end you will watch them evaporate with fire.

What do we love? Will we ever love each other, instead of all these things that posses our hearts?
I am not able to see the way out for man kind, instead all I see is everyone tearing the world apart.

poem by Midnight Writer
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Stories

Everyone has a story, even the homeless man on the street, but do we care? How did your life begin, and what were your dreams?

Maybe you'd have a beach home, with a boat floating next to the dock.
Your life would be good in the sun, but now that dream is smashed on the ocean rocks.

Dumpster diving for your next meal, where did all the country's wealth go? Hookers getting younger, no parents to hold them, everyday someone different to blow.

Now the weather is getting colder, and Christmas is coming around.
Rich families gathering around their big pretty white trees.
A man who lost it all on the street, with nothing to eat, looking into their perfect life, his body full of fleas.

Fake laughs inside that gorgeous home, everyone pretending love is in the air. Grandpa sitting in the corner,401k gone, lost it all as the market crashed, life isn't fair.

Screaming woman in the hospital, pushing out her fifth illegitimate baby. Young eyes looking up at a mother he'll never know. His life story is gonna be the next slim shady.

Everyone has their stories, read them as you look into a stranger's eyes. Through the pain, we share laughter, a united body of beings.
Lastly, see the aged man dying, eyes dimming. He is going to make new stories now, as his soul begins to fly.

poem by Midnight Writer
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Memories Engraned in My Walls

Memories engrained in the Walls:

You were my first love, and my only love, the love I wanted to make last with you forever. I gave you my soul and everything within it. I held nothing back from you.
The joy we shared for so short of a time, why did you take it all away from me?

The ring I gave you matched the sparkle in my eyes, and each kiss I bestowed meant forever. But in one instant all of this you severed.

Now I sit here still a year later, and your ghost haunts the memories of my mind. I see you move to a wall, and that wall opens up like a Broadway stage. The scene replays in my head with you and me flirting for the first time, and me sitting on the bench desperately wanting to kiss you. And your ghost moves to the bedroom, where you and I made love.

Each time I tried to kiss your soul, and each time you engulfed me more. How could you walk away from me so fast, when I did everything on my end to ensure it would last?

I could take an array of bullets with a smile on my face, as long as I could look into your eyes. I knew they would make the pain go away. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, and I’m ashamed that there is nothing I still wouldn’t do for you. Because this was my first experience of true love, and I pray it is not my last.

For if it were my last, then these days are long and will be hard to pass, especially when everywhere I look there are memories of you engrained in my walls.

poem by Midnight Writer
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Hit That Freedom Bell, Let it Ring

Watch this trick, as the pricks pull the wool over our eyes.
Fool me all the time it seems, can't make no progress.
Aim the gun at you? Aim the gun at me? Pull the triggers and say our goodbyes.

I just keep flushing money down the toilet trying to get ahead.
Made the mistake of bringing too many women into my bed.
Now I'm working hard to stay fed.

You may not like my little rhymes and that is fine.
I'll tell you to stay home, watch the clock and its chimes, drinking that whole bottle of wine.

Let's let life pass us by, would it even matter. Maybe life comes around while we are standing still.
If the world has passed us, but the next train is still coming around, then who is left holding this expensive bill?

A young generation with a new heavy weight on our backs.
Expected to carry the corruption without a whisper of complaint, but they keep raising our taxes.

No longer giving the people what they want, I choose to speak out.
While other people may choose to sulk, ignore, or pout.
Grab your balls if you have any left, and shout.

[...] Read more

poem by Midnight Writer
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Soul Searching

I wish I had it in me to give you everything you need.
But the last girl sucked it all out, and now I'm risking making your heart bleed.

It seems like this evil deed keeps going round and round in circles, leveling everyone in the way.
I sleep most nights, but I spend the time thinking of how I use to be back in the day.

When nothing really mattered, and I didn't have very many cares.
Somewhere I lost myself and one by one they left me in tears.

I live for the day when I can make her smile for the last time, then my work would be done.
In my hands I hold her heart, guarding it prudently, because it's a prize rarely won.
A human heart rarely won because it is almost never given.

Souls skimming the sand, longing to dive into the cold waters being called to the peace where we all belong.

Follow me as we try to change the world, and try to only sing love songs.
Cupid's love arrows feel so good as they finally pierce and go inside.
But god forbid you ever have to pull it out, because you will bleed out.

Now, let's slow the pace down, take a moment to see the entire world's frown.

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poem by Midnight Writer
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Mankind's Brewing Storm

I see everything clearly now. My tainted soul, saved only by grace has allowed me to see through the fog of lies. Men have conspired and won, or so it would seem. There is a terrible storm brewing overhead and will sweep many lives away. We had a select few giving warning to change our course before it becomes too late, but the masses didn't hear. Blind, deaf, and dumb like zombies walking over a thousand foot cliff, falling…falling…falling to a brutal death.

I write these things as if I were a spectator witnessing the greatest play performed of all time, recorded forever in history. I am powerless now to help stop the storm's course. I can only try to save myself and ones I love.

Devised by men, straight from the pits of hell, God has allowed my murky soul to see things many men do not. I dearly love my fellow man, I love human kind, and I wish the children afar did not cry from their stomach pains. This expression of love is foreign to me, but from the nature of God divine.

If God should not return after the storm has cleared, I pray the remaining victims would become vigilant and never allow such a tragedy for all human kind to ever occur again. Death is for old age, but lives cut short is the work of Satan.

I am unsure of what will become of me, or the ones I love. I think about everyone that has ever entered my life, my parents, my friends, lovers, and even the people I've passed on the street corner making eye contact for only a brief moment. What will become of them? Will they ever smile again? Will I ever hear the sounds of their voice anymore?

My strength is limited, my resources few. Of this lack, I am not sure if it can carry me through. However, my spirits are confident knowing that God will give me the wisdom to navigate this terrible catastrophe.

And in the end, when the clouds clear, our faces will look to the skies with tears. The sun will return and shine upon us, and its rays will wipe away every tear, and heal our sorrows. Hope will be restored once again into our hearts. We will go on, and birth a new generation. We will teach them the ways of our folly and arrogance. The only requirement we instill into our children is to never…never…never…repeat our mistakes ever again, but only leave our past as our history forever.

poem by Midnight Writer
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Eternal Love I'll never know

Your body lays in the coffin stiff as a board. I only knew you for a glimmer of time.
I heard you passed away the other day, my heart sank, like the day you left me.
Before you were gone from my life, now you are gone from this world.
I sit here and wonder where your spirit is floating now. I hope it will be pleasant and in a place I would recognize. A place where I could maybe wander and find you someday.

Your beautiful white face, that use to be caressed by the love of our Sun, is expressionless.
Just like the day you crushed my hopes and dreams of being with you.
Sometimes I feel like I've let those days go, and some days I don't feel alone.

Today I'm with someone new, years have passed us by, but I feel dead to her and life on the inside.
Maybe it's in my mind, so determined to be with you, the only one I let myself love.
Or maybe it's just a simple fear and I don't have enough courage to just let go.

This bond I feel for you is beautiful yet so sadistic. It has controlled me ever since that day, and I'm not sure how to help myself. Everything I look at now lacks color and is seen in black and white.

The angels are flying over my head, I'm lying here thinking of you in bed.
Your dark brown hair is spread through my finger tips, I can feel every crevice in your lips as I lean in to mend them with mine.

And now your dead...I don't know where you have gone, but search for me okay? Like I have searched for you. I'll know when you return, I'll know when you are there. If I could breathe the breath of life back into your lungs, I would. If I could give life back to what we had I would try. Because is those short moments, I've felt more alive then all these twenty five years.

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poem by Midnight Writer
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Freedom to the People, or Death. America's Decline.

Can you smell the smoke? Do you even see the signs? The burning flames? No, you only look away and pretend it will go away. This world we live in is burning up, burning through resources that were created for all, not just the rich, greedy few.

Are you feeling helpless? Are you afraid to move? Will you stand up and shout out for freedom...freedom from a government that demands efficiency, but is fatter then an un-milked cow. We are weak by ourselves, but if we come together, we can lean upon one another.

Do you fear loosing it all? Americans are not comfortable without their over mortgaged homes above their heads. Americans are not content unless they are driving a more expensive piece of plastic. The funny thing is, you have already lost everything, even before you began to seek these material possessions. Now the things you desired most, actually control you.

And this is how the big man upstairs, controls the country, no...even the entire earth. Like a puppet on strings, we dance around thinking we have rights, but what rights can a puppet ever have?

Do you question what you are told? Can you find that inner strength to be bold? Even when you are standing all alone. And the rest of the world is shaking their heads at you. They shake their heads...but if you listen closely you can hear the rattle of chains wrapped around their necks.

Welcome to the New America. The land of over spending and greedy indulgences. I don't know about you, but I'm starting to fall out of love with this land that I use to love.

Is it too late to change? Does anyone even want to bring back a land filled with character? Maybe being accountable is too hard? Or maybe being accountable actually exposes what evil lies in this land, over shadowing the people.

So where do the men of integrity sit? Where do they partake in their daily meals? They are no where to be found. Look beneath the earth, their bones rot like the diseases that crawl the skin of our people lacking medical attention. They are starved, behind bars, and made examples of, and demonstrated to the public that they are the enemy.

This isn't how it was suppose to end up? The fire that consumed Rome, as the senators fumbled naked in affairs with anything that would satisfy their ungodly lust. Do you really think those fires won't consume us? So I boldly say, 'Freedom to the people, or death.' What do you say?

poem by Midnight Writer
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