CONFUSION
---------

Once more,
- confusion -
it takes control.


It take me r e a l slow.
it creeps up from within;
each time I see her face.

She is that person.
She; the one who confuses me.
Who stirs with my emotions..

She plays with my heart,
and yet pain not,
would she inflict.

Love, she does bring,
mixing with her love;
it's like a poison..


and confusion comes
again.

Written by Luke(y) Skinner,
created November 2002, last edited 30/8/06.

SADNESS

My hearts been broken
beaten; twisted and chewed.
Spat out and rejected,
its painfull; its rude.

Down the path,
around the road;
across the never ending feild.

Follow the the path
which leads to pain.
Cross that pain,
which follows love;
which thrills; enlightens, relieves.

On to the fire of the everpresent
to the depths of emotion,
to pain and memory.

So many the paths have lead,
So maany soccumbed to,
defeated by,
outwitted,
unwanted;

by that one girl.

Thrown around and thrashed,
dropped down and defeated;
in her eyes you saw love.

Written by Luke(y) Skinner early 2003
last edited 15/8/06

(Survival; not perfection)

The statements of fear
the thoughts and pains.
The tears they are crying
their fists in the rain.

The waters above houses
it's the tides of change.

The smell of rotten bodies
their fall, their reign.

People are fighting
but not dealing pain.
Inspiring and climbing
towards peace again.

Donations and volunteers
all kinds of the same.

Reporters reporting
and people are moving.
Revolutions beginning
with a flood and a drain.

Clothing and shelter
candles and protection.
It's just survival;
not quite perfection.

Dedicated to the victims of Hurricane Katrina.
Written by Luke(y) Skinner 05 shortly after Katrina,
last edited 15/8/06

Less & More

There is east, there is west.
There is rich, there is poor.

There are nations, there are races;
yet there is so much more.

There is hunger, there is food,
there is greed; while at war.

There are mansions, there are huts,
there are boots; but feet are sore.

There is water, while there’s thirst,
yet no bottles for the poor.

There are people below poverty-
with no shelter from the war.

How long do you really think
that they can take this for?

By Luke(y) Skinner 5/4/06,
last edited 10/8/06

Those Things

Unfortunatly there are those things,
of which I will not speak.
They slow my life but give me more,
and prove I am not weak.

There's some things you can never see
they once fuelled the bad in me;
But sometimes I think they are the key,
to why my efforts ended successfully.

The biggest problem; yet also productive.
It made my world spin round.
It forced changes with in my life,
but it kept me on the ground.

It excluded me from competitions;
not yet sick of the heart break.
Now the problem with this poem is
I had no point to make.

By Luke(y) Skinner sometime 2002/03
last edited 9/8/06

A Fly on the wall

There’s a boom!
There’s a smash.
The man falls.

There is glass.
There is screaming.
The man bleeds.

There was TV.
There was couch.
The man cries.

There was son.
There was daughter.
Both died.

TV playing,
in the front room.
The front window,
the mans wife.

Their children.
A bomb.
The glass window.
The man’s life.

By [olivebranch]
(inspired by riverbend)