Regrets for a Dying Year

At the end of the dying year
I kneel in my remorse-filled dreams
On the grave of somebody
That no-one ever knew

The roots of dead branches claw the gray sky
And I attend the funeral
Of the self that was never allowed to be

26 December 2008

Animal welfare drive

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Animal welfare drive

Please consider making a donation to this drive for animal welfare. When you do, please mention my name, Lily Strange, on the donation form, and you will get a free reading. Thank you!

The Battle Field

The Battle Field

Standing before the battle ground

Witnessing the carnage

Of a life lived in turmoil

Ended by the desperation of one self

Who could no longer bear the torture of his thoughts

The destruction that he wrought

Was only upon himself

But the aftermath is more wide spread

Than any one could know

The memory carried within the hearts, the minds, the souls

For perhaps a hundred or more years to come

A legacy unspeakable

Did he manage to put an end to the ugliness in some small way

Even if not the sorrow?

I hated you for years

I love you now again

I forgive you for the transgressions you make

Please forgive me for mine

My shadow brother

(Channeled from my co-author. The host personality of his soul speaking to the protector personality with whom he was at war for many years.--LS)

My New Social Network

Are you the open-minded sort? Have you ever been described as left of center? Are you possibly creative, potentially psychic, or maybe just psycho? Then come join my new fellowship! I created it especially for freaks like you and me.

Visit New Strange World

Sunset on my Life

The sun setting on the beach makes me to feel a little bit sad.
I go wherever I want to in time
But am not seen by those I knew
I am called away when I think it is too soon
But I am not the wise one
And so I accept my fate
And wait to understand
And try to do a little more
Than just lie down and sleep

I am a friend of the Lurker in Shadow aka the Undead Asshole
This profile is legion and used by many
And we're all ghosts
Boo!

Dissipation

My youth
My hopes
My dreams
Wash away

Like blood running
Into the gutter
From the gaping gash
In the throat of the murderer's victim

His voice and mine
Both forever silent now.

A loss invisible to most

Just feeling like I'm losing the real me
In the middle of trying to be
What everyone else wants me to.

Cancer of the Soul

Apathy
Born of disappointment
Bastard child of exhaustion
Infects my heart and mind
And metastasizes to my soul

The husks of lost tomorrows
The putrefying corpses of dead dreams
Litter the landscape of my psyche
My joy turns to dust
My hopes rot unburied on a hateful landscape of delusion
As the merciless sun burns scorches the dying world of my visions

The cancer of apathy consumes my ability to care
Love floats bloated and dead on a sea of filth
I want to care
I want to feel
I want to open my arms and embrace
Death

My heart would explode if I were to allow myself to feel
The cancer of apathy tightens about it like a vine
Chokes the life from all that I ever held dear
I am a husk
A shell
An appearance of something human

I am poisoned by the chemotherapy of normalcy
I stand undead
Enraged
Wishing to tear out the hearts of all that judged me
Wishing to feel something besides hate
Wishing to wake up and find something beautiful.

Lily and Shadow Lurker

The concept was mine but the weight of the embellishment is my spectral friend's. The style I use to express such things is different. It's pretty difficult for me to write poetry any more but he took the idea and ran with it. The medical references are from my mind--I've had way more medical training than I'd ever have wished.

He states that the death reference obviously doesn't mean physically dying in his case. He still gets depressed and wishes he could shut off his mind. Direct quote:

"This is the dirty trick on anyone that chooses to kill themselfs. Your thoughts will never shut up! If you think to shut up your unhappiness by dying, the joke is on you."

I try to keep that in mind because sometimes the temptation to give up is strong.

I also don't want to leave the suicide legacy to my son, who suffers from bouts of severe depression. If I was to yack myself, the message his psyche would hear would be "this is the only way to solve things." The world needs more people like him. So I want him to keep fighting.

Besides, the minute I showed up on the other side, the tall, gaunt dude would smack me so hard my head would spin around Exorcist-style in order to try and clear the wax out of my ears. He's always accusing me of not listening as it is. I'm listening--I'm just ignoring him!

Only joking. I actually do hear. But my brain, which is made of lime Jello, works slow and sometimes things take a while to penetrate the coagulation. Besides, he's a little fucker that teases me about stuff all the time, so I have to make vain attempts to get even every now and then.

Doing this actually made me feel better. I hope it had the same effect for my friend. Yes, I give him shit, but the truth is, I love you, Dude.

There's some good vengeance. He ought to be cringing for some time now! >;)

Exhumed Soul

Debated sharing this. Am considering asking it to be included at the end of the new book, but do not know if it is good enough.

Exhumed Soul

Have care with the decision you make
You can never have returned
The life that you take

Six feet deep my body lies
My voice longs to speak
I am longing to weep
But have no eyes to cry

My heart ceased to beat
But still I feel the pain in my breast
Dead but not gone
Never to rest

Will anyone ever hear
The silent screams
Will anyone ever heal
The wounds upon my soul

My body cares not
But I long to live

(a note that I have help to rhyme my English now but do not care to do so very often, though once I thought it would be well if I could be better at it.)

Bits of Me

I watch remorsefully from above
As bits of my life tumble into the rushing river below
And race away from me forever

I am losing myself
Bit by bit
Day by day
To a world that doesn't care what anyone has to say
Or about the hearts of anyone who dwells herein

I still think I'm an alien
And I'm still waiting to go home.

Cie

Words from Heaven

The late "Dobro" was an incredible poet. I wish I could have "met" her while she was still living. She was bipolar and suffered from schizoaffective dosorder as well.
Read Storms of Madness here.

Missing

I've gone missing and don't know where to find myself
Wasn't I a girl last time I looked?
A girl with hopes and dreams and all her life ahead?

When did I become this thing
This bloated, hopeless, human lie
With every possibility buried in the dust of time
And nothing to look forward to
Except the grave

Forever

Forever is a lie a child tells herself

Forever love
Forever friendship
Forever family

Family members die because life is not eternal
Lovers lie
Friends leave

Forever is a lie that would be wonderful to believe

Snark Bite

I am fond of the word Snark
Which reminds me of the magnificent shark
The greatest fish in the sea
The one difference would be
That a shark's bite is far worse than it's bark

Paper Doll

Let me tell you
What makes me weary
I'm sick and tired of
Everyone who thinks they know better than me
What I should be
What I should do
What I should think
And who wants to dress me in pretty pastels
And wrap me up with bows
And paint a smile on my face
Because that's what a girl should be
And who wants to give me scented lotions
And mysterious potions
And push pills down my throat
To turn me into who they think I should have become
And who wants to tell me what I should dream
What I should imagine
What I should create
Take a scissor
And a big square of paper
And cut out the form of a woman
About 5 foot five
With the perfect measurements of course
Because a woman's hips shouldn't be this wide
And then draw a perfect face
Always smiling of course
Because good girls never get angry or frown
And you can name it after me
And then you can have just what you want
And it will never be sad
Or sick
Or disobedient
I've just given you the perfect woman
Now why don't you give me what I want
And leave me the fuck alone?

The Real Lily/Cie
Flawed as fuck
Angry as hell
Tired of playing nice

Back to Black

(a convoluted fucking poem that doesn't rhyme in the same way all the time and follows no fucking format, just tells that I am having a BAD FUCKING DAY and feeling very alone and friendless right now, and if you don't like it, fuck off. I don't need anyone's condescending attitude. I'm crazy, not stupid, and condescension does not sit well with me. So if you don't have something kind or helpful to say, don't say anything at all. And don't even talk to me about meds. Most of them make me very, very sick. I can't take them. Poetry that HONESTLY tells how I'm feeling is one of the ways I cope. So if you're only going to tell me I "need help..." Bitch, I already know that and am getting the help I can! This is one of the things that helps me. If you can relate, cool. If you can sympathize, cool. If all you're going to do is tell me how "sick" I am, then piss off and die. This is it, this is real, this happens sometimes. Roll with it or go visit some fucking celebrity fan page and leave me alone. That being said, here it is. And it's worth every penny you paid for it!)

The bleak has set in
And I'm back to black
Feeling the gloom closing me in its trap

I want to take a gun
To my head, to my heart
To just end all this shit
To tear this misery apart

I won't I suppose
Though it would feel good in a way
To have revenge on the gloom
That ties me up in this way

I'm sick of the people
Telling me how to feel
I'm sick of hiding my emotions
And not saying what's real

I'm not always like this
But some of the time
I'm trapped in the darkness
Though the sun shines outside

And there are some people
Whose lives are that way
Abused and confused
In a prison each day

And who is anyone to tell them that they should just be happy
That the darkness isn't real
That their feelings are wrong

Who is anyone to judge
The anguish within
Those who give up the fight
Feeling there's no way to win

I guess I'm still fighting
For what the fuck it is worth
But at the same time I'm cursing
The day of my birth

"Quit complaining," I'm told
"Or take some kind of drug"
The drugs make me more crazy
I'd rather just take a slug

Give me a bullet
Give me a gun
Give me a black day alone
And I'll make it done

Lily
The Frustrated, Pissed off and Crazy Bitch From Hell

Damned Gloom

The damned gloom
Settles upon me at moments
most inopportune

It comes without reason
Whatever the season
And leaves me inclined to curse

The Universe
Which allows me to fall
and to be crushed beneath

The unwanted spell
The unwarranted hell
Brought upon me at any time

Day or night
In darkness or light
By the damned gloom.

Lily

Into The Dark

I'm having a bad day
And I guess it's ok for that to happen sometimes
But it doesn't feel that way

I wish that I were beautiful
I wish that I were wonderful
I wish that I were loved

But are any of these things a guarantee
That the darkness inside of me
Won't close in and destroy my soul?

Not that I--at least in this lifetime--will ever know.

L i l y

Eating Disorder

My stomach is not hungry
My soul is hungry

But I do not know how to feed a soul
So I feed my stomach

And now I am fat
And my soul is hungrier than ever.

In The Dark Night of my Soul

I do not believe in anything.
But that's all good.
For I don't think anything believes in me.

For my Son

Today he seems in good spirits
And I bring him a quesadilla and a coconut shake
And laugh at his jokes
And feel sad and baffled
Because he seems just like a young man
Who is sensible, rational and intelligent
With a bright future ahead of him
Not like a troubled boy
Who ended up in the emergency room yesterday
With plans to kill himself.
And I try not to hate myself
(but I do)
For the fact that the genes that make his mind try to kill him
For no good reason
Come from me.
--Cie

For my son

I hope with any hope I ever had or have left that the counseling will help and you will be able to live a long, happy life in spite of the fact that you seem to have inherited my damn disease.

Me, Emo?

You Are 48% Emo

You're not emo, but you're plenty thoughtful, unique, and even a little angsty.

Are You Emo?

Emo was after my time anyway. Actually, so was Goth. I'm pretty damn old!

What if

What if I mattered
What if I were wonderful
What if I were beautiful
What if I were just good enough

What if I could turn something to nothing
Then maybe I would be
Somebody
Instead of just something
(really nothing)
Just a little bit of something

Worthless.

A Lame Limerick

Scarlet was having a limerick contest on her blog and I entered this piece of sh...I mean, wit.

There once was a troll name of Jim
Who harrassed female bloggers on whim
When he was pushed from a cliff
The chicks all thought it was spiff
And now Jim never will get any trim

It's based on a true story, Folks. Suffice it to say, there really are some grade A fuckheads who get their jollies roaming about saying disgusting stuff to people and then they tweak their millimeter while reading the nasty comments that come back at them because it's the only attention losers like them can get. We're better off just not feeding them but this asshat had me so riled up....GRRRRR!!!!

All right, enough. I don't want to have to reach for the extra strength Valium today. Instead I'll just reach for my favorite fix:

Fukitol, take me away!
xxxooo,
Loony Lily