My 2Cents Not Worth A Penny

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Queens, NY, United States
We live in a world full of certifiable, psychotic and derange crazies who are all on the verge of madness. Everyone is insane except me. I am sharing my rational, balanced and lucid knowledge in an attempt to save the world of total confinement in insanity. But this is just my 2Cents and it's not worth a penny.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Life through my eyes.

Breast Swollen in Pride.

 With the sun rising gold and orange,
against the soft blue sky,
you stood with your chest held high,
in pride.

On the smooth asphalt,
facing the fiberglass monsters,
racing toward you.
daring them to strike.

Were you really there?
Were you a mirage, testing my humanity?

I couldn’t see your eyes,
I imagine defiance,
Daring me to strike you with one final blow.
Your demise will not be at my hands,
not on this earthly land.
Around you I go,
leaving you standing,
 eyes you hide,
Your breast swollen in pride.

I pull in a lot, where I could see you.
What should I do?
Should I push you aside?

As I sat and tried to decide,
a car racing to who knows where,
took no fear and squished you with no care.

There I sat, my heart scarred,
my spirit marred.
Your spirit escaped.
A gory mess, left on the asphalt,
your demise not my fault.

Innocence murdered,
demon soul, had they saw you there?

Your breast swollen in pride,
Why were you there?
In defiance you dared.
small, yet a life,
what was your strife?

Were you thrown from your nest?
Left to do your best?

Was it defiance in your eyes?
Or a longing for a suicide demise?

In the early morn,
The world will miss your mating song.

Your wings forever in flight,
as you welcome death tonight.

There will be sorrow,
without you tomorrow.

I shed these tears,
innocent life not spared.

No respect for the life of a man,
how can a sparrow survive this land?

copyright 9/2008  K. Wilhelmina Floria

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Waking Conscious


The devil is amused,
by all the fools who lose their cool
        in the arena of shattered dreams.

Lost in the lust of want before the must.
Pleasing the greedy, that preys on the needy.
Concealed in the source, of freedom of choice,
        full of remorse.
Precious jewels, of no value, bursting with diluted morale.

It’s all about me, can’t you see?

Material gain, my private fame.
Family illusions, a future of confusion.

What is joy? An emotional toy?
        A paranoid schizophrenic void?

 Half pass the race of thought,
        personal existence is short.

 The clock of time slows to an end,
        a battle of amends.
Fortune accounts fill with selfish needs.
A chest full of guilt, regret and treasures of greed.

Praying for a cheating win.
Paying tithes, with hopes of liquidating sins.
A vanishing pass,
        And breath takes its last.



Final thoughts of waking conscious.

copyright by: K. Wilhelmina Floria 12/10/07




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FATE BE TOLD

Weeping sorrows,
full of illusions and dissatisfaction.
Stimulating anxiety,
a designer disorder,
yearning sedation,
requiring rehab.
Seeking amends
for a life
unfixable.
Really too tired to care.
Hiding,
deep in the shadows.
Invisibly trying to be seen.
Now.
Was it fate
that gave me this day?
Or,
was it the life I lived
that became my fate?
Once I tried to steal joy,
sure that happiness would follow.
So said,
that time is gone.
Today,
fires of hell are trying to engulf me.
Blinding my eyes
With oozing tears of strength.
Eliminating the dark flames of hell,
to a path where heaven  shines,
and warm my cold heart.

copyright By: K. Wilhelmina Floria 6/9/09
*************************************************************************************************************

Single Tear

A teardrop
spiked with salt
heavy with memories,
past and lost.

Living in despair,
hiding in fear.
Poverty I understand,
here’s my helping hand.

For those seeking more,
find an open door.

Love shared, given,
And not returned.
Lessons learned.

Tears filled to the brim;
daylight turns dim.
A child’s coffin,
abused once too often.
Mother’s bloody hands can’t defend;
an absent father can’t comprehend.

A twisted face,
a bitter taste.
Rolling free into tomorrow,
filling a river called sorrow.
An ocean of salty tears,
evolved over the years.

A single tear
spiked with salt,
no longer lost.

copyright By: K. Wilhelmina Floria1/06/08
*************************************************************************************************************

OUCH!!!


Lost inside a shell,
sometimes called hell.

Gorging on a diet of bullshit,
now I’m torn and sick.

Empty praises, false adornment,
tricks of torment.

Right from the start,
my blessings a bruised heart.

Gifted with endless pain,
to drive me madly insane.

Hiding inside a shell,
sometimes called hell.

Fueled by greed, it’s affection I need.
Constantly if you please.

I gave the best of my life,
and he took another wife.

To her he did wed,
me he took to bed.

I don’t belong here, there or anywhere.

Disappearing inside a shell,
sometimes called hell.

I believed in her affection,
thinking my heart would have protection.

Like a man it’s the same,
full of illussional game.

When she gets a call from Bacardi Le’mon,
it’s me left alone.

She lives her life and I live mine.
never shall the two intertwine.



Consumed inside a shell,
sometimes called hell.

Loneliness won’t you leave,
I want to breathe.

Ignorance is bliss,
spawn three from my pussy lips.

The children are grown,
and want to be left alone.

Stroke my delicate ego,
like a long ear beagle.

OUCH!!!

I got a boo boo.
Oh! Boo who who?

Crack that shell,
sometimes called hell.


copyright by K. Wilhelmina Floria 7/14/08
 

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