Six Strange Poems by Teresita Blanco

Martyr by Teresita Blanco I cannot bear This cross anymore! My body, worn and tarred. Flinches beneath his whip. ...

fantasy,poems,wallpaper


Martyr
by Teresita Blanco

I cannot bear
This cross anymore!
My body, worn and tarred.
Flinches beneath his whip.

Woe stricken and fallen
Beneath my pollen.

No longer a saint,
Today I die
My final death.


death,fantasy,poems

His Name is Death
by Teresita Blanco

Despotic, Neurotic,
He brings us all, heartache.
Forget him, bend him,
We must all
Crush him.

Take the sword
And shield,
Discard it.

Raise the guns
And all our heartache.

Bring it forth,
Offer it, it’s a perfect
Sacrifice…
To make us right,
To make us ripe.

Crazy, despotic, neurotic,
He brings his goons,
He brings us doom.

Crush him, discard him!
We must raise
The song of war.

See the rivers
Burning crimson!
For he wears  
The stench of death
Beneath his name.


too,sad,weep

I am too sad to Weep
by Teresita Blanco

Sometimes my eyes
Are so filled with sorrow
That I cannot weep.
At night their phantoms
Haunt my sleep.

If I could,
I would discard
This shell.

This suffering
I cannot tame.

Runaway,Muses,fantasy

Runaway Muse
by Teresita Blanco

Escape, sweet Muse,
Leave behind
My abuse.

Take from me
All your inspiration,
Its wasted, wasted.

Is best for you to flee,
Oh! Muse, since I lost
My will to speak.
Seek fertile grounds
Beyond this desert.

Escape, from me, Muse
Let us end, this ruse.

fantasy,Obsession,poems
 
Obsession
by Teresita Blanco

His trails fade
The closer I get
To his shade.

Soon our shadows
Will become one.
This strange fascination
Knows no consolation.

My obsession grows stronger
As his eyes grow colder.
This disdain I cannot take,
Nor live with this mistake.

“Forfeit, let him go”
No!

7,deadly,sins

Sins Unforgiving 
by Teresita Blanco

Sometimes I forget
How to breathe,
Sometimes I forget
My own name.

It grows harder
And harder today
To make some
Miserable gain.

As our pockets dry
And the bread hardens.
I see them drain,
The last drop
From our veins.

Their sins cannot
Be forgiven by
The few crumbs
They throw in
Our empty plates.

 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!!!

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