melissa fox

Rookie (Albuquerque)

My Pen - Poem by melissa fox

What does the word mean?
The seas inside the tyrant
That stir, stir
Faster, faster making her
As tyrants say what they often feel
Through words of hurt,
words of pain,
words of gain.
The seas they created
Windy still
Stirring the
Commotion doesn’t explain
Seas, tyrants don’t compare
To my internal battle
To my internal despair
Maybe if I just let you feel.

Feel like the toddler you once were
Feel all the innocence rush
Back inside you
Remember how you felt
the first time you ever
deliberately disobeyed?

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be…

This my journey
This my burden
Cried the maiden
She is a muse for the
Unseen, undriven, and unwise.
In all her faults, a self proclaimed ruse

O false O false
Dost thou see the mask inside the
Burned rose
She sold to him?
Forever blackened it will stay
Does my pen not bleed her thoughts
As though they stab you in your minds heart?

Why the ravens, the crows she sees?
Her love of sweet strawberries
Has led her here
But never had she thought,
It would be that sweet taste
That engulfed her, betrayed her

So now I lay me down to sleep
I pray for you, pray for me
I pray to Thee Lord and Jesus Christ my savior
That you will forgive me as I am not
Of this faith or that
But I have sinned

Bless me father for I have sinned
The word itself proclaims my ruse
A maiden no longer from your abuse
My rose I have sold, but I beg you
And the Lord to
forgive me

I repent

‘O that you would kiss me with the kisses of your mouth’

a wicked devil I repeat

‘For your love is better than wine’

Tainted wine that lusts for change

O daughters of Jerusalem

“Salvation belongs to our Lord who
sits upon the throne and to the Lamb”

And all the angels
Stood round the
Throne and round the
Elders, and four
Living creatures and
They fell on their knees
Before the throne and

And so the maidens tears dry up in a sense of nothingness
Until she knows, she sees,
Her angels
Have been there all along
The ones who pray,
Shall be saved

Save me
Save me
Save me

Says she who is no longer a maiden lost as a muse
Or salvaged as a ruse

Her mask remains but only as a reminder

How do you measure the Temple of God?
How do you know He is there?

When you are numb
That mislabeled feeling,
That emptiness
So far from any truth born on this world of
white clouds,
blue skies,
green trees,
and red suns.

Let me put it this way,

Rejoice not O Israel,
Exult not like the peoples;
For you have played the harlot
Forsaking your God

Rejoice is far from my mind
I have forsaken,
My Lord
My family
My friends

My Lord I hold these truths to be self-evident
But still I write them

One: He who built me up with every detail so perfect
and so in tuned to all the stars falling and capricious moon.

But he said
“As the Lord lives and as you yourself live I will not leave you”

but he did, he left me.

Two: After falling many flights down the stairs of pain,
He who came out of no where and carried me
As far as a sack of sorrow can be carried

“Let no one decieve himself
If anyone among you thinks
That he is wise in this
Age, let him become a fool”

And so I become a fool, once again.

Three: This one cannot be found in texts known yet,
for they have not written a book of the Devil

Hold my body
My shattered body
My tattered soul
Ease my pain
For your personal gain
You don’t know
you don’t see
How sick you
Really must be
For you to

Four: A mighty figure with all his stature
that once rained down upon thy faith.
A prince of music and guardian of musicians

Little drops
Of rain
Little drops
Of hope
Thanks for the pain
Leaving me to

d t
e o
k y
o o
o u
l u
I n

Five: A solitary reine, vanished in the bed
Of cherries, anguished over truth
She cannot hide

Your dark
Has caused my pain
Lack of self devotion
Only past the walls
Has created for it
Remaining for all it can,

Six, Six, Six:
Worship not the temptation,
But not knowingly you worship the

Not the worst by any means
Only luck, chance, fate if I may,
Marks you here under this

I love you, but you worship the temptor

My seventh truth

Truthfully, this is my last.


A missionary in training using personal experience and real life to help others.

Help others, every day

You are perfect in all
Your imperfections
You found me and
You gave me what
You could not give

Release your guilt my child for the Lord
Smiles down upon the
Beauty that resides
In your
Red Rose

My blackened Rose can never be polished
I am still Numb
Still a tiny maiden
Lost in the strength of the wind
Still a tyrant of my past
Still a toddler of my future
This my journey
This my burden
As I tell it so it is

Still a muse
Still a ruse
Dependant on my seventh truth
The ravens have poured their blackened blood
into my tortured soul,
An omen apart of me
Never again
I ask your forgiveness for I haven’t a right to have it
I am sorry I haven’t the time nor the care to end my term
And so my pen endures my pain,
My joy

I give my Temple to my God
I cannot rejoice for as my Lord knows,
I have not confessed all my sins, yet.
I have forsaken,
I have forgotten,
I have looked in all the wrong places.

One I love
Two I miss
Three still lingers here
Four is forever a lie
Five will die
Six will live
Seven will know once again how much I love thee
And once again know
that I couldn’t stand within the perched walls
Of fate without your

Thank you

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Poem Submitted: Friday, May 12, 2006

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