Money Poems, Bitter Bullet, Rosy Garden and Done Poems by Teresita Blanco
http://phistars.blogspot.com/2012/10/money-poems-bitter-bullet-rosy-garden.html
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by Teresita Blanco
Though
it be a mortal sin,
I curse
you
From the
bottom
Of my
heart.
I cast
you to hell!
Oh!
Preacher of death!
Survival
of the fittest
You say?
Nay!
Those
with riches
Are
never the fittest!
They are
cursed genes,
Envious
and green.
They rot
the self
Made by
man!
Who are
they
But grim
reapers?
Birds of
prey,
That
steal the chick
From
both the falcon
And the
white lark.
Editor's Note: My brother told me to do a little intro to my poems. He said that it would increase their God powers. Frankly, by now I already forgotten the emotion that inspired these bitter poems. I see them as milking the fangs of a snake. This one in specific was inspired by something I heard on TV. A weird kid, said that we should let die those that do not have health insurance. I thought that was really evil. Thus, here we have this chibi poem. The preacher of death thing is an anachronism. I my Literature teacher was having me read Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra. I like his preacher of death line. Thus, here we have it.
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by Teresita Blanco
by Teresita Blanco
The
times we live in,
Are all
so dreary.
Never
where
Harsher
words
Spoken
today,
By a
mortal man
Who
calls himself Christian!
“Let him
die…”
The good
Samaritan
Has
rotten.
Oh! A
curse upon
All who
look
At
wealth as a sign of grace!!
Who
convenient for them,
The sin
harvesters.
Remember
the width
Of the
needle!!!
You
cannot pass
Through
this sacred door.
Nay! You
would buy
Your way
into heaven,
If you
could !!
But
alas, the dead
Have
their own
Unique
currency!!
I have
my two gold coins.
Where
are yours?
Editor's Note: This one is along the same lines. However, I went a bit Catholic around the middle. It is best not to over think things. As I said before, the pictures are just decorations. The poems are mine. The needle refer to the parable of the rich guys and the needle. The golden coins refers to the fare for Charon.
Bitter Bullet
by Teresita Blanco
by Teresita Blanco
This
bullet tastes bitter,
I have become a quitter.
Even in
death I remember
My old
life’s ember.
With a
haggard face,
I take
my place.
My back
is bent,
My heart
broken.
The life
I led
Has met
its end.
All I
see is despair,
I fallen
from this stair.
No the
abyss
Swallows
me into its mist.
I tasted
this bitter bullet,
Yet
again!!
Editor's Note: I don't know what inspired this poem. Sounds cute though.
Rosy Garden
by Teresita Blanco
by Teresita Blanco
Never
knowing the answer,
Failure
awaited you.
You fled
from the open door,
Opportunity
wasted, it’s over!!
Yet
again, you must choose.
Opportunity
beckons you.
Now it’s
time, to step forth.
Do not
flee
Into the
rosy garden,
From
there you
Cannot
escape.
Enter
the open door,
The
future calls you.
Break
these chains
With
your sword.
Do not
enter
Into the
rosy garden.
Inside
every fountain
Lies a
snake.
Inside
every bush
A bee’s
sting hides.
The open
door calls you,
But you
do not heed!
Why do
you flee
Into the
rosy garden?
Are you
afraid
Of the
rising sun?
Do you
flee
From the
coming storm?
These
glass shields
Will not
keep
Away the
rain.
Listen to
it!
It
roars!
Do not
flee
Into the
rosy garden.
Go
through the open door!!
Done
by Teresita Blanco
by Teresita Blanco
Tired of
waiting
For a
tomorrow
That
never comes.
I feel
betrayed,
Distraught,
harmed.
Behind
this mask
Lies
untold horrors.
Perdition
is weighing,
Beckoning,
calling.
I cannot
let it drown me.
I cannot
let it harm me.
Despite
this naïve resolution,
There
comes bad luck’s contribution.
My fate
is sealed, set, Done!
Editor's Note: I think I was just tired or sleepy when I wrote this poem. Ion rhythms are pretty easy. Also, the "ing" sounds.
Copyright Teresita Blanco
No way in hell do you have permission to use my poems without my express written consent.Hell knows no fury as a lawsuit from me!!!
