Quote of the Day: Oscar Wilde

"Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future." -Oscar Wilde

Quote of the Day: Charles Dickens

"I only ask to be free...the butterflies are free." -Charles Dickens

Poem: A Satire of Pop Culture

A Satire of Pop Culture
By: Abbey Rutter

Pathological liar for hire, come apply.
Sarcastic, piece of plastic, will you buy?
Your ten pound shoes and coffee news
Can't make you high.
It's a new prescription for mass addiction,
So come on in and try.
It's the hardcore scene, with the badass theme,
It's the worst best time,
It's the one they call,"goodbye."

Poem: The Survivor's Suicide

The Survivor's Suicide
By: Abbey Rutter

Who am I?
I stand alone.
Why can't I leave,
This broken home?
I'm trapped inside
My own dark mind,
And it kills me.

Where were you?
When will you come?
For my salvation,
I'll need someone.
I'm losing will,
But endure still,
And it kills me.

What will I find?
I'm scared to know.
I've lost my mind
Nowhere to go.
I'll lose this fight,
And end this life,
If it kills me.

Poem: Please, From the Afterlife

Please, From the Afterlife
By: Abbey Rutter

Will you remember,
When my spirit sets my body free?
Preserved there in fond memory,
Will you love me still?

Don't cry for sympathy,
'Tis not loss, rather liberty.
Think instead of tranquility
Not of death's rumored chill.

Poem: A Prisoner Paranoia

A Prisoner Paranoia
By: Abbey Rutter

She buries her heart,
In the safe that she keeps
She holds it locked tight,
She muffles its beat
Like a drum in the night,
Unwelcome, foreboding,
It traps her inside,
Thus the door never opens.
She will never know love,
Never feel of its passions
Not to break in beneath it,
Or quake in its ravage.
She maintains she is safer,
But loss is her game.
For there is no victory,
With only envy to gain.

Poem: And the Shadow Lives On

And the Shadow Lives On
By: Abbey Rutter


It is dark where I'm from,
And wherever I go
The people don't stay
Where they flee,
I don't know.
But I wonder at this,
At the reason they leave,
Is it at my expense?
From myself...could it be?
Am I perhaps broken,
Not a way to be fixed
The antique of a person,
Without substance or wit?
Am I a problem to solve,
By the weight of a measure,
Am I lost to the world
When it gives me no pleasure?
I am unhappy here,
To be sure, it is true
But am I joyous elsewhere,
Or do I play the fool?
To keep me, these people,
They tell me their lies,
Yet still I'm the conflict,
A challenge to the wise.
I'm the darkness in night-time,
The storm of the cloud
The sun's darkest thought,
And the days coldest hour.
It is dark where I'm from,
Thus wherever I go,
I take blackness with me
And the shadow lives on.

Poem: I am Innocence

I am Innocence
By: Abbey Rutter

I am the dreams of day,
You are bitterness.
I am the beauty of grace,
You are prejudice.
I am the wisdom of the age,
You are selfishness.
I am hope.
You are hate,
And I am Innocence.

I am the youth that never fades,
You are loneliness.
I am the childhood way,
You are conformists.
I am the freedom saved,
You are insolence.
I am trust.
You are rage,
And I am Innocence.

Poem: Matters of Innocence

Matters of Innocence
By: Abbey Rutter

It's a matter of hope,
And I almost have none.
It's a status of honor,
And I've known it undone.
It's a notion of peace,
And I feel but disquiet.
It's a practice of patience,
And of it, I grow tired.

This isn't a tale I commonly tell,
It isn't for strangers, or anyone else.
It comprises the life of my personal hell,
To embody a soul that may never be well.
It's a story of childhood,
Though do keep in mind,
'Tis but a history of innocence,
And how I lost mine.

There was a time when I was strong,
When I feared nothing.
Now I feel so much wrong
So much suffering.
I have lost too much now
I know not where it's gone,
And I'm not quite sure how,
But it's been ever so long
Since I knew the sweetness
Of days without sin,
And I knew of the hope,
And where and how to begin.
But now I am lost,
I am bound lock and key,
And I am the temptation,
That's made fire of me.

Poem: There is a Park I Frequent Oft

There is a Park I Frequent Oft
By: Abbey Rutter

There is a park I frequent oft,
Where quiet solace find.
I wander through its grand expanse
Pursuing peace of mind.

Sometimes I sit and people-watch
To help the time pass by.
A story for each stranger here
Where the ignorant are mine.

Each day I go there to the park,
I seek the lonely man,
Who sits upon my bench sometimes
A buried face in callused hands.

I trust the long green grass unkempt,
With must, the oaks and pines I keep
Long hear I tales of this wood
This park sells secrets as it speaks.

Have you a place to whom you go,
When at loss, by sorrowed soul?
Do you frequent oft as I?
Or do you trust your roads of old.

Poem: The Deep Dark

The Deep Dark
By: Abbey Rutter

 I'm a danger to my waking mind,
Rendered safe only in sleep
Make hazard to my own surmise,
I'm the dragon darkness keeps.

Wanderer I am, in kind
I fought the battle raging, lost
The demon of my own design,
By tragedy, the infinite cost.

I know the depth of dark,
Have seen the ages of the days
To know this fate makes hard,
When keeps my mind by stranger ways.

Poem: Dawn

Dawn
By: Abbey Rutter


Amidst the morning mist I rode,
Down aged roads of cobbled stones.
As daylight breaks, the stars away,
I face this dawn alone.

I take this journey far beyond,
The shadows of my sword withdrawn,
This darkness takes, but I must save
My faster pace to carry on.

I take with me this parchment guide,
A scroll to map the darker side.
For here are towns, and there are grounds,
Wherein my tragic fate might find.

Onward, wooded path to take,
I leave a mystery in its wake.
They who follow, their folly know
By consequence of my mistake.

My journey ne'er appears for naught
This course not for a cause forgot
And I had not set out with doubts
For myself and I, alone, have fought.

Poem: Time

Time
By: Abbey Rutter


Up and down the hourglass
Dancing feet of Time
Slipping through the centuries
With sand dunes left to climb.

The ages pass away like fire,
Burning in the night.
They flicker while the young grow old,
And steal the fleeting light.

Then someone calls from far away
A voice to beckon on
And with it comes, a hopeful tune,
Renewed from once sad day.

We all live in the hourglass
We all will dance in time
To the beat of passing centuries,
And sand dunes left to climb.