where the writers are
Poetry Contents
Escape

Contents

Deception without correction, avoiding conception, but accepting penetration
even without satisfaction in a faction, anything but sanctioned for the
duration of our time stationed in a nation only seeking elation through
degradation.

So be my patients, and I'll be your physician, and make the decision to get
us out of this position by giving you a new prescription.

Take the word diet out of your vocabulary, because your problem is that your
sedentary.  Here, eat this, it's called a berry, try a cherry or an apple,
and don't be fooled by Snapple.  Your new enemies are refined sugar,
pollution, and the government.  It's time for a revolution, because at this
rate there is no debate that by the date of my demise it will be too late to
create a world without hate.  By that date it will be too late to change our
fate of living in a crate, your mate sick and crying.  It'll be too late
once we're all dying.

Radiation, explosions, lawsuits, unemployment, large consumption of
aspartame, global warming isn't a game, step back far enough to see the
whole picture including the frame.

Have you heard all the words I've spoken?  These are the reasons why I'm so
broken.  But my pain is only one token, educate yourself, hear all the words
that have been spoken:

    Feel the Fire and the rage, turn the page, the desire and the Intimacy, the One Spark that might have all been a lark, My Prince before the wince, Hood Relations in times of desperate creations, Lessons Learned in times of the burned, Can’t Relate so I continue to debate the new rate at which to sedate, Teach Me if you can reach me, beseech thee, and leech thee clean of blood, step out of this Teenage Bull, and move at full speed to The End that’s just beginning over again, Maybe, Beyond Reality we’ll find the solution to all this world’s pollution and delusion before we pass this on to Our Children.  Immaturity, insecurity and impurity, not to mention the inferiority complex have made a delay in The Way I Want To Live, but I’ve decided To See And To Be Simply Me, which is often an Attention Whore, I know, quite a bore; and it’s left me sore.  Satisfy Me in this Torture Chamber I’m lost in, help me step back through the Mirror and find My Motto, because I’m Following You because I’m The Little Train That Can’t that went right over The Edge.  And this collection is just a little scant, but feel the pain inside the Rain, and you’ll look upon it all without disdain, and I think you’ll be able to refrain from saying it’s all been in vein.

Poetry by Raederle Phoenix An Atara Lydell West