Planting Death to make life Reappear

"Dedicated to all forms of forsaken"

I am a poet
In a mobbing world
Striving to get by
Through ashes and shrapnel
Of memories clinging to frustration

Seeing ghosts appear
Becoming a spectator, a clairvoyant
As the invisible become visible
From blood draped dormant
Cursed into seclusion
Becoming mere illusions
To the grasp of a forsaken catastrophe
As they cry for my soul

Lust is in
The living rage on
Poetic currencies
Slaves to an alluring cause
Where pity and urges
Unite into a society created by false hope

The Ghosts have turned me
Into a twisted screaming shrieking abnormality
Now it is up to us
To haunt those living in denial
Bittersweet disdain shall become insanity
As our dreams shall become one

Poetic death is the life
The dead shall inhabit
Into the depths of equal royalty
Thus finally becoming free

Now every tombstone
Have chisels worthy of publication



Written By,
James Darwin Smith II
11/2/10