Holy Blood
By: Katelynn A. Moxon ©

I take but one more step
The rocks bite at the open wounds upon my feet.
My blurry vision distorts the crowd
Now they all become wild creatures mocking me in vain.

I collapse and cry tears of blood
Yet no one is listening to the fear that marks my pain.
The whip lashes at my skin
Kissing me softly with its venom.
I stand unsteadily as the blood pours from my open wounds
Mingling with the dirt and sweat.
I scream in agony as the wood digs deeper into my back
A crown of thorns marking me a king, but mocking me in death.

Restless Sinner
By: Katelynn A. Moxon ©

Restless sinner dry those tired tears
Those aching hands are stripped of faith
No longer folded in a prayer
Your shadow slips away

Restless sinner fades to grey

Restless sinner rise from your broken knees
Those long nights of seeking redemption are gone
Your world now mixes in shades of dark and light
As the cross you bear is cast to the ground

Restless sinner you’re not lost or found

Restless sinner tread your path astray
Forget your Father and the Holy Ghost
Find yourself cloaked amid confusion

Scattered Reflections
September 29, 2007
By: Katelynn A. Moxon ©

The anguish that I feel
Festers away at my broken heart
Where once there was light, now only darkness can be found.
The memories claw away, like talons ripping at my tainted soul.

Everywhere I turn there are people watching me,
Waiting for me to fail and mocking me as I go.
The blood begins to spill
Pouring from my open wounds.
It coagulates in a pool at the bottom of my aching feet.
You have broken me and I can no longer move.

I feel your presence and it haunts me-
Taunting me into a fight;

© She Never Knew Him When...
By: Katelynn A. Moxon
For Him.....

The city darkens to silence
Deep in slumber it lies
He stalks the alleyways like a black cat
His long raincoat bringing him shelter form the storm

He merely protests the winds intrusion
An insightful but fickle friend
He fingers a half forgotten cigarette
As he wanders through the rain

A million memories ago he lived here
But now he’s just a ghost from Christmas past
His blue eyes search from the darkness
For a warmth he cannot find

A right turn on 47th street

© In the End We Stand the Same
By: Katelynn A. Moxon

The poor dream of salvation
In a land of liberation
Fuck the wars of politics
Damn those who see the difference
In the end we stand the same

Color, race, and creed
Just words that pollute the air
Weapons that wound the soul
Nations rise together
Dream this world to freedom

Weapons kill humanity
Politics mar the soul
Belief has fallen away
We are doomed to forever roam

Rise above adversity
Speak the world to silence
Freedom rings in the distance
Peace is on the horizon

Fuck the war of politics

Obsidian Darkness: By Katelynn A. Moxon©

Disembodied figures
Sleepwalking
Through the doors of life
Their voices obscured with the city’s obsidian tinted fog.

INSANITY.

The handprints on the wall-
Our feet FAIL to meet the forest floor.

CLAIRITY found in the cult of the Star.

Oblivion seeps into the West.
Desires become our opiates-

The rubble of SOCIETY faded into D E C A Y …

Understanding has become ephemeral
(Like the transient colors fade).

Oh Night, Sing Me a Midnight Hymn
By: Katelynn A. Moxon ©

Oh night sing me a midnight hymn
A melody of stars
Harmonized by the tones of moonlight
With a rhapsody of wind

Oh night, sing me a midnight hymn.

Patchworks of silver light
The sonata of the night
The hushed tones of the air
Echo through the sound

Oh night, sing me a midnight hymn.

The sky crescendos in colors dark and bold
The loudness of the moonlight
As it sings its song of old

Oh night sing me a midnight hymn
Dressed in tones of blue
A melody of stars
Captured by the sound of silver

One Man’s Dream
By: Katelynn A. Moxon ©

One man’s dream fails to see its end.
The hands that worked so hard cannot go on.
Tired, he slumbers underneath the cardboard box
With a stray dog who finds in him a likened soul.
Kicked aside and unwanted
Like the candy wrappers that blow aimlessly in the wind.

One man’s dream finds its success.
The long hard days and nights of endless manipulation have worked.
Tired, he celebrates with a bottle of Dom Pierragon
And a secretary who knows more than just the size of his suit.
Held in glory and immortalized