Thoughts At Half Past Midnight (My Sweet Summer)

And the girl of progression

Flicks her blonde mass

Adjusts her sweater

Winks at me

While she takes the hand

Of the Peacemaker

Who smiles at me

Knitted cap pulled over his devil ears

Nods to Queen A

Gives her the cue to banish me

With wind and shards of freezing glass

To the solitary silence

Of the cold blue walls in my room.

So I lie here

At half past midnight

Summer brings me salvation

I may have been alone

But alone wasn’t misery

Misery thrives in company.

I was never meant for winter

It beckons to me

Icy branches bow to me

Snow forms a path for me

Leading to cloudy skies

But it is only a glittering lie.

Dirt trails swirled with

Newly shorn meadows

And the hot sun and cool breezes

I belong in the mixture

Stars with energy and jubilation

Cold is just too complacent

We all know I can’t be complacent.

I need a forest

With a crafted plastic ring on my hand

And I need the beach.

But to get there

I cannot look to the past

It is 32 degrees Fahrenheit there now

I can, however

Put pressure on the glass

Cold makes things brittle

And if you push with me

The glass will break

And melt on golden warmed sand.

World War A

You think you’re                                          Ready
For me,
Cannons and riffles and knives;
I’m a war machine
Eyes like an atom bomb
I breath Agent Orange
My grenade heart
Pumps mustard gas.

You’re a nation
I’m just a colony
Corrupt and corroded
All I want is for you
Not bother me
But your sights are                                       Set
And you’re fighting to win
Now, which belligerent won?
Was it America or Great Britain?

I have my methods
My tactics and my wisdom
My head’s a battlefield
Where’s you head?
Against some boy again?
You may be the Winter Queen
But how trivial is cold,
When war is made of fire?
And trust me,
I’m full of                                                        Fire.

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Winter Leaves

I hate the cold

But I still surround myself

With plunging icicles,

The world does not melt around me

For I am not summer

But a pleasant autumn breeze

Unrecognized

In the present of extremes.

They believe

I am also ice

As I hide behind mirrors

They see only their own white

No maroons or marigolds.

I hate the cold

But I lay

In the Arctic

And pretend I can stay,

Where frostbite and flu

Weapons of hate

Threaten my bare

Peaceful trees.

I am under constant fire

From the Winter Queen,

For she sees I am the ruler

Of my own seasonal fortress

So she tears and chops

Ripped apart my personality.

I am freezing

Fingers blue

Lips white

I am freezing

I mustn’t stay

But I see no place for leaves

In the snow.

And So The Queen Rubbed Off On The Princess (Selfish Part II)

One day the African Princess

Escaped the English Queen

She sought a man

So tall, handsome, and pristine.

At first their romances was oh so bright

But the Princess had a tortured soul

Still full of untapped spite.

And so she constantly spit upon her love

With an arrogant sneer

And no care for consequences to come.

The man who once thought

The Princess to be perfect

Realized now

He no longer thought her to be worth it.

Her loved turned his back to leave

But the Princess began to desperately plead:

I need you to stay
Love me until I find my way
I need you to be with me
Until I am once more whole
I need you to stay
And heal my tortured soul.

And so the man did not leave

But the Princess knew

A new heart she needed to cleave.

Selfish

There once was an African Princess-to-be

Who lived in the year 1853

And was invited out by the English queen for tea

But when she arrived, there were no crumpets or mugs

Only men with dogs and whips and thugs

But do not be deceived

The Princess received

Her afternoon tea with the queen.

And the queen cried out

“I want her for my own!”

As she sat on her sparkling ruby-red throne

And the Princess whispered to herself

“Thank God, I shall not be sold!

I shall live in this palace until I grow old!”

So she worked at the royal court

For years that never felt short

Yet every day

The Princess did pray

To thank to queen for not sending her away.

Though the more she thought

She suddenly caught

The inkling that something wrong she had bought

For to the Princess the queen did lie

About that meeting with tea and cherry pie

“I was stolen away!”

The Princess thought with dismay

The queen did not save her

For she had still enslaved her

And the African Princess-to-be

Decided the English queen was quite selfish, indeed.