John DeBona

When good and evil
are divided equal
There's half the hope
in which to cope
...

If I were to lose you
I think I'd lose my mind
so get some sleep
and something to eat
...

I want to breathe rain.
Feel the summer mist running through my veins.
I want to ride the clouds.
Soaring free on the edge, high and proud.
...

Blades of vengeance...
hammer striking...
Barbed in flesh... impaling spike.
...

Half girl, half woman.
Victoria Secret
and the Disney channel.
Roses and chocolate milk.
...

Every step full of pain, a step farther away from my home.
All I knew as a child, now memories and flames.
The fear of darkness weighs on my back.
I'm burdened with worry but I can't stop to cry.
...

Your nose is long and crooked, your hips are big and wide.
Your voice makes me nauseous, I want to run and hide.
Your hair is quickly graying, your skin is sickly pale.
Your body is full of problems, and your breath is awfully stale.
...

Twisted metal and acid rain
Scream out loud to kill the pain
Peeling skin and senses out
Fall before the next blackout
...

Death and Hatred
Poison moon
Evil vengeance
At full bloom
...

I want to sleep in the shade of a tall tree
next to a sunlit meadow
where flowers and grass sway gently
in the morning breeze.
...

Journey to the center
pulling, swirling
Energies anew
Vibration and colors
...

The dungeon walls reek of despair
Floors wet and bloodstained.
Darkness rules over night and day.
Empty chambers that echo with misery.
...

Drink from the chalice of death.
Swallow its bittersweet poison.
Struggle for your breath.
Die in a lonely prison.
...

A wildflower
The first rays of sun
The breath of day
the smell of rain.
...

Dripping blood, spewing hate
In my dreams, I can't escape
I see your face, what you've done.
I cannot hide, when the nightmares come.
...

I cried on the first day of school.
I felt like a fool, on the first day of school.
Dad made up words, a bit like Pig Latin.
The teacher held up a picture of a monkey.
...

Waiting for the fall, vultures circle over.
The smell of death, cries on the wind.
The accuser waits in ambush.
Hiding in its lair.
...

Clouds drift across a blue winters sky.
Wind blows, snow falls the solstice has passed.
The crocus sheds the bonds of silence
and breaks through the chains of ice.
...

The general scouts the battlefield
stone faced, hardened by war.
His blood is cold, an icy stare.
He listens,
...

The spirit is like a flame, dancing in the darkness.
The voice is like the wind moving across the meadows of thought.
The soul is like an infant, innocent and wanting to be fed.
The heart is like a chamber, through which all of these flow.
...