All hail the paper
cradle of a dreamy thought
we all crumple, we taper
for each poetic ambition fought

All hail the pen
the literary sword of might
fed by ink, hopes of men
the metal downpour of the mind

All hail the silent poet
he screams his words to you
squeezing out a tiny sonnet
from a vessel of binding glue

All hail Hello Poetry
our loyal parchment friend
a fortress of antiquity
a castle to defend..

I went to bake some cupcakes
I was in such a merry mood
I miss the sweet creamy taste
I miss the smell of food

Human food, Monster food
Oh, its just the same
What matters is how to make it good
I call this a cooking game

A cup of flesh, and mix it well
Those smelly rotten eggs
Light the fire, the flames of hell
Let's chop these human legs

Ahh, fresh flour - I stole from the store
A little bit of sugar, a little bit of salt
Let's knead the dough, let's fetch the coal
Surely, this is not my fault

For a sudden twist, I suddenly thought
Why not stir-in some blood
The jar of of red, I quickly sought
Where's that stirring rod?

So I baked it in the ancient oven
And waited for some time
Ping! It sprung open!
Now let's give it a try!

Nothing like a meal
For a hungry half-breed
Wasn't such a deal
It was just what I need

Nothing like a Sunday
When you're not feeling mad
Nothing like cupcakes
Nothing like fresh blood

Oh, human bones!
Ack! Ugghh!!

Finger-like shadows crept
The moon was a yellow gloom
I swear, I really wept
For I knew that it was doom

The tall black silhouette
Stood across the room
The knife was dripping wet
It was the Killer Groom

In a sleek black suit and tie
He cast a nasty grin
Those bony fingers doesn't lie
The corpse was very thin

He took a step, I held my breath
The nightmare of the century
In my house, where's my spouse?
Oh, he's over there -******

He strode and raised the blade
And sent it down, down
I let out a scream, a scream
I saw that his face frowned

He stabbed the pillow on my belly
The knife was stuck for good
Feathers and fluff, the made-up baby
I kicked as hard as I could

He was flat on his back
When I cocked the shotgun
Then, a thunder-crack
His miserable head was gone

I woke up from the nightmare
My make believe horror movie
But there was something that made me stare
My husband, lay there ******

I heard a laugh, an evil laugh
Shivers went up my spine
The bed felt rough, a little bit rough
I realized it's real this time

I pulled the blanket down
The horror was revealed
The baby, all ripped up
My baby has been killed.

Oh what a sight, a glorious sight
My knight has come at last
For ages, I waited for this night
We had remade the past.

The funny thing
I see
In myself

Is when
I try
To write

A poem
That I want
To turn out right

Suddenly
Becomes
A disaster

I cannot like
I hate
Reject

Then something
Like magic
Flows through

And like
Vivid colors
Try to paint

The wrong
I made,
The mistake

Oh
It was
My will

And the
Funny thing
I see

In myself..

Let me sing in a siren's voice
The songs of the unknown
To wail like a banshee
For the lost, I will moan

Let me sway with the wind
Toss me high in the skies
So I can search for the place
Where I can grasp my desires

Let me savor this moment
Let me nibble a piece
From this bitter ambrosia
A tonic of bliss, please?

Let me ****** my arm
Into that flaming portal
Take me to paradise
I wish not to be mortal

but most of all

Let me write with my muse
Til this pen spews no more ink
This fellow's insane
surely, don't you think?

Her voice is like the ocean
i love it
when she murmurs sweetly
to herself
and her soft speaking
would soothe and calm me down
But sometimes
She can get really loud
like the seas
roaring in a storm

Her hair varies
She wakes up like Bob Marley
brushes it
goes to work
wearing it like any ordinary woman
when she comes home
her hair reminds me
of dry fuzzy grass
during hot summer months

Her hands are always busy
Scrubbing, writing, cooking
It's almost rough
like sandpaper
but when sometimes
she holds me with care
They're like the
velvet palms I don't wanna let go

Mother's eyes
They are windows of an old dungeon
and a strong person
is locked and lonely inside
but sometimes
her eyes seem to sparkle
and sing
and I hate it when I see
beads of water
trailing on her cheeks

Mother
A powerful soul,
who molded and taught me
about life, about this world
with her voice,
her hands,
her eyes

Mother
who cared and scolded
I miss her tender kisses
her warm hugs
which I get often
when i was still small

I know I've grown up,
It's not that it's awkward
I hate that it has changed this way
but I also know
deep inside
that worn-out soul
still lies a burning flame
of love and parently care

I just know that.
Mother knows that.
Only time will tell.
Only time will show.

But I am afraid of waiting.
I am afraid it might be too late.
Even if they say, it's never too late.

Mother.
Whose heart and spirit has shaped
and formed
the person I am now.
Mother.
Who has been with me through all this time.

My Mother.
The one thing,
The one person,
I can be most proud of.

Mother.
My Mother.