Stacy Stiles

We live to die, we die to live.
Some amidst this life we give.
While others cheat, lie and take,
Deny their faults and mistakes.
...

I’m the soldier who defends,
I bleed red, white and blue.
Not for our local politicians,
rather I selflessly bleed for you.
...

Dancing
with the devil once again.
Drinking
the darkness of his domain.
...

Pitter-patter, thump, thump
goes the beat of my heart.
Rumple, rumble, churning,
innards feel torn apart.
...

I write this letter to bid you a final farewell.
and I truly hope it finds you well and fair.
You see I’ve based my life upon your being,
and every vain symbol and element you bare.
...

Trickling down, my soul passed.
Like a raging beast, declining fast.
Decreasing power, this empty core.
Descending desire; lust nevermore.
...

Envy eats at my eager overtone.
Airing aspirations of me alone.
Resenting ruse, requiring need.
Festering famine, for you I feed.
...

A new face to trace
Covet then embrace
Beloved thy trance
Diminishing glance
...

I cannot escape the ruthless reality,
of this sinister shadow now over me.
Lying safe upon a bed of rusty nails,
blanketed in a cloak of woeful misery.
...

A tidal wave of emotions,
have sent my soul out to sea.
Crashing currents submersing,
what once was you and me.
...

I write what I know, and know what I write.
I travel through time, every rhyme with might.
Ruminating the past; its wrongs and its rights.
Any time of the day, and any darkness of night.
...

Swoosh, whoosh a salty sea soars,
splish-splash colossal waves a roar.
Drip-drop, a leaky faucet spent,
trickle, streaming tears repent.
...

Does my face retrace the anger,
of a once distant love affair?
Do my curves exhaust a notion,
that at one time we kindly cared?
...

I’m in love with a vision, a mirage and disguise –
his name is unspoken, for his voice speaks lies.
I adore an ideal, of what could be,
I admire his weakness to satisfy me.
...

Politically correct I’m not; if you seek precision you ought,
find the time, to define the rhyme of perfection
in words you’ve sought.
...

I’ve watched the soldier give, crimson blood,
heroic sweat, and fallen comrade tears.
I’ve pondered at the ignorance of society whose,
stated they’ve wasted days, months and years.
...

I am merely an invert image;
inked within invisible pages.
This racing, rambling mind,
shelves semi-sadistic stages.
...

I stuff my pockets with misery and contempt,
overloading their contents, pleasure exempt.
I fill the dark spaces with sadness and dread,
overexerting the capacity, till all hope is dead.
...

The pines, they sadly sway the same,
softly whispering your name.
Your voice echoing through the trees,
with every warm subtle breeze.
...