I made a mug of coffee
I made it very strong
But when I took a sip
It tasted, oh so, wrong
Page 206 of 274
Self-Respect
For every wrong thing you did
For every unkind word
I made an excuse
For you
It took awhile for me
To realize
I really do
Love myself more
Naked Reality
Last night you kissed me
And caressed me and undressed me
I was the most beautiful woman in the world
This morning
You do not know me
Caress
I felt a touch around my waist
I turned to feel your lips on mine
Gently, as you pulled me into you
Midnight
It was so cold that I needed you to lie beside me, warning me as you did
I fell asleep on a night too young
Only to be awakened by the sound of
Your breathing and the comfort of
Soft falling rain, it is midnight and
I am awake
Painting with Words
Crimson paint is splashed across the crisp, clean fabric of a nation’s flag – the last works of a man before being tied to a cross and shot – the dripping of wet paint as red as the blood that flows through veins paints its picture without words, and as the canvas dries, the pumping of the blood throughout the body slows, until it eventually stops.
Painted Rainbow
The faintest of rainbows
Is painted across the sky –
Gentle reminder that a
Higher power is in
Control, we are never
Left alone
It is Done
When our lives are taken
Heart stops beating
Mind stops thinking
Nerves stop feeling
It is done
Eternal Home
My heart feels heavy
For lives that can be taken
So easily
My heart feels the pain
Questioning why we are born
Only to die alone
I question, I ask, I pray
And the only whisper I receive
Is to trust not in this world
But in an eternal one to come
Execution Night
In the next few hours while some of us are asleep, nine souls are going to be tied to a cross and shot. Dead. Amongst them, brothers, sons, husbands, fathers, a daughter and mother.
People will say they did the crime, now do the time. They are going to be doing the time. By paying with the rest of their lives.
Myuran Sukumaran, a reformed man (if only because he was caught), will refuse a head mask. He will be facing his executioners until he can no longer see. Hands and feet bound, there will be nowhere to go.
Nine cheap coffins have been delivered. White coffins to match their white clothes. White clothes with a target sign to mark their heart. Their dying day has already been engraved on a wooden cross to mark their lives.
They know the date, they know the time, they know the manner in which they will die. And now all they have to do is wait. Until their hearts are peppered with bullets. Ten shooters for each soul, three with live ammunition *so that no one knows who fired the final fatal shot*
And those that refuse mercy, will have dinner, and sleep, and live their lives. Perhaps watch with satisfaction the agony of the mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and children left behind. Content with their hearts untouched by bullets, and untouched by mercy too.
Poems and Petals 