Sun, 04 Dec 2011 08:35:39 -0800WeeblyMon, 31 Jan 2011 17:47:25 -0800http://www.edwardvalpoetry.com/8/post/2011/01/fed-up.htmlCan’t hang on any longer
Been blown over the edge
Use to paint in colors
Now everything’s soaked in red

Canvas litters the floor
The curtains stand torn
Into the broken mirror I look blankly
Cursing the day I was born

I hate this passionless feeling
The absence of hope inside
Razorblade to wrist
It’s a good day to die…

]]>Sat, 11 Sep 2010 16:32:20 -0800http://www.edwardvalpoetry.com/8/post/2010/09/all-i-gave.htmlSecrets hidden
            Deep within
Water boiling
           Over brim

No more theories 
           Only facts
Honest truth
            Something you lack

Friends no longer
            You’ve betrayed
I regret only
             All I gave

]]>Mon, 14 Jun 2010 16:27:32 -0800http://www.edwardvalpoetry.com/8/post/2010/06/is-it-wrong.htmlIs it wrong that I find a certain beauty in death?
Is it wrong that I can’t wait till my last breath?
Is it wrong that I Romanize the darkness,
And that I long for the night?
Is it wrong that I don’t fear damnation,
The nightmares or frights?
Is it wrong that hell strikes no fear within me,
Nor makes my heart skip a beat?
Is it wrong that death I wish to greet?
Is it wrong that I bow before the reaper,
And long for his touch?
Is it wrong that I hate life this much?


]]>Sun, 04 Apr 2010 06:13:02 -0800http://www.edwardvalpoetry.com/8/post/2010/04/a-wayward-journey.htmlBurning
Slowly
Turning
Yearning
For escape from my dark twisted cell
Why did I ever voyage to hell?]]>Sat, 27 Mar 2010 15:04:42 -0800http://www.edwardvalpoetry.com/8/post/2010/03/reflection.htmlLost in thought,

pondering

all the choices

made,

distressed by many

reactions…

but the past can’t be

changed.

]]>Sat, 27 Mar 2010 15:03:47 -0800http://www.edwardvalpoetry.com/8/post/2010/03/lifes-a-revolving-door.htmlEvery day’s the same,

nothing ever changes,

just repeats, again and again,

a continuous,

repeating circle

that comes and goes, comes and goes.

Like playing follow-the-leader,

marching to the beat of the same drum,

twenty-four/seven,

there’s no exit ramp to freedom,

just bumper-to-bumper traffic

we must follow always,

much as the hands of a clock

make one complete round after another;

we’re stuck in the constant round and round,

like the earth we rotate on our axis,

the sun and moon rise and fall,

up and down, up and down…

Every day’s the same,

nothing ever changes,

just repeats, again and again…

]]>