Pitter Patter
all of this natter and chatter and splatter
you’re still running through me all pitter and patter
how do I get through this dark void
all alone
when you’re heavens away and I still
hear your moan
I cannot imagine life without you
for our love always was
so pure and so true
The ABC’s of War
Attacks, atrocities amplified
Advancing animalistic aggression
Blitz and bombs and blood and bones
Booming, blaming, blazing battles
Combative character corrosion
Conflicts cracking cages of conformance
These are the ABC’s of war
Prowling
By T. R. Phillips
It’s late at night he’s on the prowl
he hears the shuffle of a boot
and quick as a flash he turns to shoot
but as he turns he smells the foul
sickly stench of sour sweat
he recognizes the odor awful
and knows this man is much less lawful
he can see the steely seamy set
he knows in strength he’s equally met
he means to kill him neatly now
just like he’d kill a squealing sow
Midnight
By T. R. Phillips
from whence did all
this darkness arrive
all brightness gone
am i even alive
i can’t help but cry
as i keep asking why
Falling
By T. R. Phillips
Is love less true
when it comes from one
who loses his heart
with ease?
Does the love of one
who loves only once
have more meaning?
Does it matter not
how many times you fall
as long as you fall at all?
By T. R. Phillips
There was a dog
Who loved me
A dog whom I adored
There was a dog
Who trusted me
I promised her safe love
There was a dog
Who didn’t learn
Now I’ll forever yearn
That I’d been able to keep my promise
Instead I snuffed her out
There was a dog
Her soul I miss
I felt it fly far away
There was a dog
Who loved me
A dog whom I adored
The Price
By T. R. Phillips
STUCK in the head
not crazy
never sane
SICK in my head
it’s my crutch
it’s my bane
LIVE in my head
try it just for a day
if you don’t go deaf
well, you know what they say
It has cost me so much
but still I must pay
SICK in my head
god please take me today
Did you ever wonder if life was about more than just the hours between life and death?
Did you ever wonder if life was about more than just the happy moments?
Maybe it is about the time in between, the not so happy moments.
Perhaps they are what matter, what makes us who we are.
The times that shape us, mold us.
They say that we are the sum of all our parts, our experiences.
Both good and bad, but maybe the good is not so important, maybe they are just there to keep us going with fruitless hope.
Hope that keeps us from jabbing ourselves in the throat with the closest thing at hand. Hope that keeps us hanging on so that we can go on to suffer for one more day.
Flow
our love is like a stream
it ebbs and flows
it dips and grows
and tests our strength of seam
