A Flood of Poems...

But for How Long

David S. Nicholson

Feb 7, 2015

Long and twisted desert road.

Faded photo with burned edges.

Clown that smiles and cries inside.

Voice screaming, fractured and tormented.

Desire to be happy and the reality creeping in.

Pain of the flesh hides the pain inside.

Distant memories so like yesterday.

Waters run for wild to calm.

The sun warms my face.

Flowers, not sand beside me.

Happy once again, but for how long?

Drinking Coffee

David S Nicholson

I sit here and drink my coffee. I look around and I see so many different faces with so many different lives. I think that would have been someone else, but by chance I am who I am now. The girl addicted to drugs selling her youth on the corner. The child who fears his father coming home. The young mother who spends hours looking at a razor and wondering. The thug who has never non peace or love. A trucker who has missed most of his children’s growth. The priest who hates in the name of a God who loves. But I am none of these. I am the watcher and I see it all and I see nothing. I am good at listening to you but I won’t remember. I have words to speak and you do not listen. Another sip of coffee then I move. A brush your shoulder on the way past. You look up at me but do not know me. Soon you will feel the chill of the grave. Soon you will be no more. I am death and I walk with you all your life. You will never know me but will come to me. All lives are a blink but I am forever. I whispered in the killer’s ear just before the trigger pull. I beckoned just before the thin red line on a mother’s wrist. I led you to the patch of ice on the road at night. These and countless more. I have no hate or love, but I do have time to wait. I work for all the Gods you have prayed to. I am there even if you don’t believe I am. Look away for a moment and I will take your child or you. Before men walked the earth and long after I will be.

Door Opens

David S Nicholson. Apr 5, 2012

Door opens

Wind blows

Warm sun

Cold water

Bell rings

Day starts

Dust blows

Angel sings

Wild cat

Loyal dog

Praise God

Sing songs

Stand alone

With many

Door opens

Walk threw

God smiles

Home now

Dust of Ages

David S Nicholson

The wind blows and howls like a hound from hell.

It drives the dust through the cracks and covers everything.

The eroding winds and dust of ages past remind me that we will be dust one day.

This demon taunts me to abandon all to the darkness and be the dust.

But I know my Lord and He has taken my hand.

I will be in his arms in the end.

The dust will be lost in time, but I will live forever.

Free Landers

David S Nicholson March 22, 2011

They tell us it is the land of the free. But you’re only free to be just like the rest. If you do not buy into the mass marketing of culture and religion, then you are one of them. If you are one of them that it is the job of all good free Landers to hunt you down and make you pay for your crime of individuality. Here love is something you buy and God is something you sell. The pusher man tells you what to think and the dead minds teach your children to listen to violence and drugs. We are the land of the free but watch your backs or they come in the night to make you vanish. If they think you know something, then water-boarding is the new hand shake. United in nations under the dollar they will fly over your lands and make you submit to democracy. A Starbucks on each corner is the price of your collective souls. You think the criminals that roam the streets are angry and full of hate; then you have not seen the cops yet. One man said once that one day a good rain will come and wash all the scum off the streets. The only thing washing the streets here is the blood of the innocent and the souls of our youth. The man on the white horse caries a big stick and will put it where he wants to put it. The leaders are no more than a side show to the freak show that is our way of life. The leaders are lead by the monster of greed and money. One man stands shoveling money into the furnace of corporate America while the other man tosses the babies of the third world in. We stick it in their face that we have it all and they have nothing. Even the poor here have more than a family there. God help them if they have anything we want; then it is holly war on them for all they have. We fill they skies with death and warm the days and cool the nights with storms of discontent. For the love of God, we tell people they are going to hell if they do not stand in awe of the power of a handful of men. Praise the Lord and then put your money in the plate. I know it goes to someone who does not need any more, but hell a token penny here and there will trickle down to those who have nothing and we will say we did everything we can to make them better people. We marginalize the radicals that yell God Hate Fags then we stand behind them and tell the Gay they can’t get married in the eyes of our God. Who is out god anyways, the last time I looked it was someone sitting at a desk in an opulent office pushing papers that will crush the lives of so many all in the name of the bottom line. If you can’t buy it, it is not part of the covenant of the corporations or should I say Gods. Those few who know what and who God really is will be passed off and condemned to eternal hell in the name of the dollar. Those who want to lend a hand or a kind word to all around them no matter who or what they are, will forever burn in the depths of hell. Look inside your book of magic words and tell me if it has not one line of hate; not one line of murder. No I did not think so, yet you scream that you are his and he is your master. The reality is you don’t even know him and when you die you will face him for the first time. All hail the war machine as we feed it oil and lives from the Middle East. All hale the downfall of humanity. If you think these words are mad, then you’re one of the many and you will never understand the very few of us. I pray for you every night. I pray for your children and the future of Mother Earth. I pray for this and not for more of what I don’t need. And all though you see us few as evil and insane we love you all. Hugs Free Landers and many prayers to you.

Hope

David S Nicholson

I can very much relate to the longing for being something you are not and to want nothing more than a silent lonely death. But I overcame and am now what I thought I had lost. I found hope inside - deep inside. Now I wish nothing less than to give this gift to others. Peace and Love.

I am Glad

David S Nicholson

I feel pain, but yet I am glad.

I am not like the rest, but yet I feel glad.

I am hunted for how I was born, but yet I feel glad.

I am poor, but yet I feel glad.

For I know my Lord, and this makes me glad.

I held you.

David Sheldon Nicholson

Aug, 04, 2011

I held you when you where sick.

I held you when you needed a laugh.

I held you when you where happy or sad.

I held you for a short time.

Then I let you go only for the grave.

I will see you again some day.

I Remember Her

David S Nicholson

The soft rain over these bricked city streets, and I remember her.

The soft fuzzy skin of a peach, I remember her.

The faint hint of jasmine and I remember her.

I look over the fields filed with flowers, I remember her.

But is the really how it was?

I don’t know, but this is how I want to remember her.

I Turned Away Just to Find You.

David S. Nicholson Sep. 25, 2011

You demand that I love you and have taken so much from me.

You demand that I love you and have taken those I hold close to my heart.

You say worship me and I will lead you to riches and let me be poor.

I gave all I could and it was not enough for you.

I came to you on my knees and was ignored.

I gave all I had to give and nothing happened.

I turned from you in rage and anger.

I ran to the darkness of my own heart and was comforted by the silence.

There was only I and nothing else.

It was cold and dark and empty.

Then I saw your hand and took it.

Then I held your embrace and was warmed in your light.

The world was shown to me as it is and not how I wanted it to be.

You saved me from myself.

Now in this time of pain and suffering I have comfort.

Your people and your love hold me up when I want to fall.

I am yours and all I have is given to your glory.

Thank you oh my Lord.

I Will Never Say Good Bye

David S. Nicholson Feb 15, 2012

In a lifetime I have know you ever day.

In a blink of an eye you will be gone and I will never be the same.

When you smile my heart is warm.

When you cry I feel so much pain.

I would give you anything if I could.

I have little, but you have my heart and my time.

When I was a kid I did not understand and I sometimes hated you for it.

Now that I am a man I know it was what I needed.

Looking back there where far more good times than bad times.

I sometimes remember the long talks we had over a coffee and smile.

When you pass coffee will never taste the same again.

As I write these words I hear sings of joy and my tears flow from my eyes.

When I see you it’s who you always where that I see and not the confused person you are.

When you point at the dog on the floor that only you can see I think it’s an angle come to you.

As you fade away I die a little myself.

As the day grow short and the time so near, I think mostly of you.

The pain of seeing you die for so long is like losing you over and over every day.

I think of the says a summer when you worked in the flower garden and smile.

I think of the times you yelled at me for doing wrong and thank God you where there for me.

I think of God and want to yell at him for doing this to you.

Then I think of how many bad things there are in this world and know they are our own doing.

God walks with you ever step and he hold me up to be strong for you.

When you go to see Dad in the great hear after, tell him I loved you both more than words can say.

All the times I suffered pain that I can’t describe and hid it from you are worth it.

To be with you as you where for one more day would be of greater value than the world has riches.

I will never say good bye but only so long, for I know I will see you again in heaven.

New in Town

Dave S Nicholson 2013

It was an empty echo of the town clock chiming 12 noon that woke up from my half slumber as I walked down the empty streets. I stopped and looked at the store window; there was this child sized mannequin in there with a dress just like Amy had. How I loved to see her on the swing in the back yard. But the world was dead and we who survived fared so much worse than those turned to dust. I remembered the last fight I was in. It was a fight for my life and all I got out of it was a pack of smokes and a bottle of cheap bourbon. I hated the days when my wife dragged me to the mall. I wish to God or the Devil or whoever is listening, that I could stand there holding her purse one more time.

The dogs came soon. There are always dogs. They hunt in packs and are a drain on my resources. In the beginning they would run when you shot one. Now that food was in short supply they did not run any more. That is to say, not from you but at you when you shot one. Lucky me there were only 3 this time.

First place I checked was the gun store. A few extra rounds and a nice new knife, then the church. They always went there. They always died there. Clustered on the base of the alter. Looking for what? For who? Did they think they would be spared somehow? When they came they took most of the young ones, and the rest where laid to waste. The sinners like me the ones that had the darkest desires once; we survived. Or was it that this all changed me so much I cannot remember the past? I must have been good once. I had a wife and a child and a dog that did not want to kill me.

A sound of foot falls, I turned and shot. I always hit my mark. This time it was a woman. I have not seen another alive in years and I just shot her dead. She was holding a cross. Did I think it was a gun? Did I care? Did I think? This is hell and the day is only half over.

Of God Death and Tears

David S Nicholson

I was watching Gran Torino and it comes to the part where he is told he has cancer. I started to cry thinking of the long and sad death of my Mother. I said to God, “why do you allow so many terrible things”. I think of children with cancer, birth defects that disable for life and war. I think how much I have and how little most of the world has. I think how the money we have in the west could feed the world. I ask, “Are you blind or are you not even there”. The pain of loss still pushes me down in the dirt. The pain of all that is wrong in this world rises me up in anger. I want to grab some rich guy and beat him in the face and say, “why do you have all this when children in your own city are hungry”? I ask myself, “Why when you are extra money do you do for yourself and not for others”?

I have no answer to any of these questions but the last. I am selfish and I will justify my actions just like everyone else does. I think of God and I feel a warm hand on my left shoulder. God is not of this world he is of the next. We are of this world and we are the ones that are supposed to be helping each other. We are the ones that stand beside the dying and the sick. We do it for our reasons and in the name of God. In the end we are selfish and even when in the name of God, we do it for us in reality.

I know God is there, I have felt him and I have seen his hand work wonders. But he will not stop the pain of this world that is our job. We are the ones that go to war even when we do it in his name. We are the ones that feed the poor even if we do it in his name. We are the ones that steal and kill and we are the ones that protect and serve. God is a light that we look to for inspiration. To quote Babylon 5, “We are grey we stand between the light and the dark”. To expand on that, “we are the ones that chose our path”.

We all need to shed tears and we all need to yell at God and ask why. The answer can only come from inside however. For in our pain we do not hear the gentle whisper of Gods voice. All we hear is the torrent of our pain. So he uses others to show us the path. It is our job to pick that path. And it is our task to know we will always think of ourselves first.

When Mom was sick and I went to see her every day I told myself it was for her but half of the task was for me. I could not let a day pass that I did not have her in it. I needed her as much if not more than she needed me. In the end when she lay was close to death and it would come any moment, I was there because I did not want her to die alone. I was also there to close the chapter of my life that was her slow death.

I do not know if the pain will ever end but for now it will come back now and then and I will cry.

Of Sadness.

July 11, 2012

David S. Nicholson

What do you know of sadness?

Have you felt the loss of all you held dear?

What do you know of sadness?

Have you seen the flood of your children on the boots of anger?

What do you know of sadness?

Has the winter taken your father?

What do you know of sadness?

Has the sea taken your brother?

What do you know of sadness?

Your smiles have torn my heart from my chest.

Your glitter blinds me to the joy of this world.

Your song is like a whip on my back.

Your lips spill the words I dare not speak.

What do you know of sadness?

Have you seen the fires burn their flesh?

What do you know of sadness?

Have you longed for the grave?

What do you know of sadness?

Has your crop rotted in the field?

What do you know of sadness?

Has your mind turned on its self?

What do you know of sadness?

Your bells ring of spring.

Your fingers touch the morning sun.

Your eyes sparkle with delight.

Your children sing of heaven.

What do you know of sadness?

What do you know of me?

On A Winters Day

David S Nicholson. Apr, 04, 2012

On a winters day in the summer of youth she passed into the land here after.

On a winters day I can still remember the smell of her hair.

On a winters day in the fields of snow and the bite of the cold wind, I hunger for her.

On a winters day there is a glimpse of what she must have felt.

On a winters day I will light a fire and remember her.

On a winters day perhaps the wind will carry an echo of your voice.

On a winters day my tears will turn to ice.

On a winters day there will be a warming feeling.

On a winters day I will pray that God took you in his arms.

On a winters day the summer beckons once more.

So long but not goodbye.

A Poem for Billy

David S Nicholson

The morning breeze makes me think of you.

The love in my heart I wish to share.

My bones are tired by my spirit is young.

With Gods hand on my shoulder my thoughts are of you.

To give your heart is not easy I know.

In the light of the moon and the stars I know there is a way.

So many things bring my mind back to you.

On this day of love, I give from myself.

On this day of love, I send you my heart.

Right Now

David S Nicholson

Right now someone is stealing a something.

Right now someone is making their first dollar.

Right now someone is starving to death.

Right now someone is eating in a $500 a plate dinner.

Right now someone is begging for change.

Right now someone is making money for almost nothing.

Right now someone is being buried.

Right now someone is being born.

Right now someone is making love.

Now why do so many care if it is with someone of the same sex?

That long night.

David S Nicholson March 20, 2011

I held him as he cried that long night. I told him he was going to be alright and it was will be over soon. Before that he was crying out to God to make the many demons go from him. I could see his pain and wanted it all to end. I wanted to make him know he was loved and God had not left him. He yelled out that he was lost in an endless plague of pain and suffering.

The voices told him to do things that he knew where wrong and he asked me why would they not be quiet and where was God in all of this. I told him he was right with us and he loved us. I told him he would not abandon any of his children. Then he told me that God was telling him to hurt himself; to do unspeakable things. I told him this is not God talking and it is not a demon. I told his this was his own fears and dark feelings that we all have inside.

He cried for help many times that night and I was there for him and so was God. In the end it all came down to the fact I was alone and he was me. If God did not allow me to see myself from out of my own perspective I don’t know if I would be here today.

Later when I was out of the hospital and alone. I questioned God and thought he did not exist. I pushed away and knew for a moment that there was no God and only I was there that night for myself. Then when I was OK with the thought of no God – it happened. He reached to me once again and showed me his everlasting love. People quoting Jeremiah 29:12 all day – it was everywhere. I went for coffee with a friend and there where 12 people all with wooden crosses around their necks sitting there – a 13’th man came up to them, looked at me and said hello to me – then sat with them. I came home and someone from my past called me. We talked and he told me he was now a pastor. In the day he was one bad ass person. We talked for a long time and he told me many things.

When I was alone I looked into the darkness and said out loud, “I hear you lord” and it felt like I was floating. For a moment there was no pain and I was at peace completely. All I can say now is thank you for being with me when I needed you. I know your hand was on mine and I know you have changed me in many ways. I don’t know who I will be when I am done looking around at what you have to show me. But I know you will never be far from me. Thank you Jesus and I understand so many things now.

The Balance of Power

David S. Nicholson Aug. 18, 2009

There is a balance of power in this world that we are not readily aware of. It is the balance of positive and negative energies that we ourselves as human beings produce. This shapes humanity in ways that we cannot normally perceive.

It is a struggle between good and evil if you where. If that is how you would like to see it. We can, by our actions, the way we interact with each other; the way we go about our lives; the way we communicate with others; we can change this world for the good or for the worse. We can destruct or we can build.

We can, by simple actions; like when you are at a restaurant and someone brings you your food, thank them. This brings positive energy to the server and to yourself. You receive more positive energy back than you give out. Thus driving you to give more positive energy to other people. But if you want to be negative, you draw more negativity to yourself as well. It is a self fulfilling need. Whichever you decide to give, you will get back.

We as a people, as a society, have the ability to descend into anarchy or ascend into greatness. It’s all up to us. Live the way you want the rest of society to be. If somebody treats you badly, treat them with kindness. Perhaps it will change them; perhaps it will not; most likely not. But you never know. It is the positive energy that we need to culture, to accumulate.

In this time where there is so much greed, so much want for personal gain; so much negative dark energy. We need to take hold of what is around us; say no to the conventional ways, and say, “I am going to make a difference, I am going to change who I am and I am going to influence as many people as I can in a positive light – while I have the chance.”

Death is always around the corner and you don’t know when you will make that final turn. So make your life count. Make it the best you can be for everyone you will interact with. Have a good day all.

The Day They Took Our Son

David Sheldon Nicholson

July 23, 2011

We were playing games on the lawn like families do on a sunny summer day. A van pulled up and then a car. A man came out of the car and then others came from the van. The first man told us that they were taking out child away. We stood up abruptly and one of the men reached into his suit coat and gave us a look. The man from the car told us that people like us where not allowed to have children anymore. I asked, “Like us”? He said with disgust in his breath, “Gays”. We tried to fight it in court and spent a lot of our savings. We went all the way to the top and it was in the news for weeks. But nothing could be done, the courts where on the side of the government.

A while later, maybe six months, we noticed that the store belonging to that nice Arab man was closed. We saw him on the street and asked what happened. He looked around in fear and told us his business license was taken away as he no longer met the regulations. I asked what regulations. He told me the ones on immigrants. Once again we were angered but nothing could be done.

In spring of the next year we woke to our door being kicked in. They had come for us and this was the end. As we waited for extermination, we thought there were things we could have done, but we were not brave enough. Next to us sat the shop keeper we liked and his family. On the wall was a poster of the American eagle and white men in black uniforms holding guns.

I woke and remembered them taking our son the day before and I was scared.

The If Then List

David S Nicholson

If you see a lot of people want to fight, then you are looking at yourself.

If there is always some kind of conflict no matter how hard you try to avoid it, then you are looking for it deep down inside.

If you need to be known, then you don't know yourself.

If you need to feel some kind of power in your life, then you fear being yourself most of all.

If you think others see you as ugly, then you think you are ugly.

If you think being a man means you have to always be ready for violence, then you are nowhere close to being a man.

If the thought of giving your life for others is too much to ask, then you do not deserve to be free.

If you need to prove you are in control, then you never will be.

If you always have to win, then you will always fail.

If you like to hurt others, then you must hate yourself.

If you think I am talking about you with this list, then you need help.

The Small Flame

David S Nicholson

Looking into the naked candle light I start to see things future and past.

I hear the sound of people long gone whispering quiet joys.

I know that all is as it is going to be, we are only a moment in eternity.

Somewhere water will always flow clean and life will always follow mother earth.

We are one with the flame, we are one with the drift of eternal time.

Sit and listen and watch with me.

The quiet is our door to the spirit world.

White Picket Fence.

David S Nicholson

June 24, 2010

A rum and cola in my left hand, a barbecue fork in the other hand.

Checking the steaks and looking to see if the lawn is just right.

The latest jingle for my favorite car company in my head.

Down the street oh so perfectly groomed is a man beating his son half to death.

His wife sits in front of the TV in a prescription drug induced stupor.

Ah yes all is right with my little world and I can’t see past my white picket fence.

One of the boys calls me on the cell about our little trip this weekend.

We intend to spend a little money on the girls that hang out in the cat club.

No one gets hurt, that is if the wives don’t find out.

The woman on TV said they are exploited down there, but we don’t think so.

After all they hide the browses and the needle tracks well with makeup.

Then we will retreat to our perfect homes safe behind our white picket fences.

My kid is listening to some guy named Manson and dressing dark.

I chuckle and remember the days I spent listening to Alice Cooper.

He chats all night to his dark friends and talks about death.

I don’t listen, as I have more important things to think about.

After all, my job has a lot of responsibility and I can’t turn my back on that.

Oh how nice the flowers grow threw my white picket fence.

I see on the news that the boy down the street is dead and his dad is in custody.

What a shock me and the wife tell each other then we say, "you never really know people".

My sonny boy is late coming home, but he is most of the time so I give it no though.

I plan in my head for the next week end with the boys, and smile to the wife and tell her I love her.

A cop comes to the door and tells us that our son and his friends have taken their lives.

Now my perfect law is not so green and my white picket fence seems to need painting.

Youth Pastor

David S Nicholson

Reaching for God.

Looking for an answer.

The fire in my heart.

A leader to look up to.

Alone in his house.

He shows me his gun.

He takes off his shirt.

I know what he wants.

I pretend it’s OK.

But it’s only because of who he is.

Then I run and I tell.

Next week in youth group they look at my strange.

One won’t look at me at all.

I turn away for many years.

I hate myself because of him.

I wanted to kill him.

I wanted to die.

Then I learned to forgive and the pain vanished.

Pizza Poem

David Sheldon Nicholson

November 23, 2009

The midnight mist rolls around my feet like the raged hand of the grave.

I look up to see the moon struggling to come from behind the broken clouds.

I think to myself, I could use a pizza right now.

I See His Mask On Video.

David Sheldon Nicholson

Nov. 19, 2009

There is this man on the internet. He is out of place with his mask. With a hint of pain, he tells funny stories. All that he is he has told us on video, all he feels and desires are there for the viewing pleasure of any of us. But his mask is always there and so out of place.

He tells of many things done and dreamt of. From behind the pain he speaks of love and harmony. Soon he may come to a place in life where he can no longer walk in the sun and enjoy the world as he once did. He will always create in any way he can; it is the way he was born.

In his mask we see what we want to see. It reflects many of us as we see his videos. On here we all have this mask. Showing desire, we hide the world we live in. We know so little of what we talk about. At the end of the day we put away the mask only to see it in the mirror anyways.

He's a man of many sides and many colors. He wants the world to live as one with no trace of hate; yet he knows that this will never be, as we for the most part we see the world for what we can take. If it where up to us the world would have no hunger, war and walls. But at the end of the day it is as it always was.

Some times in the night when we cannot sleep he talks to me. He speaks of many things and many places that may not be real. He gives me hope from behind his mask and lets me know we all have one as well.

But now I think is it him or me that I see.

Will you remember me?

David Sheldon Nicholson

April 12, 2009

Will you remember who I am when they find my blue bloated corps in a river of red blood?

Will you remember who I was or what I became when the tides of reality changed and I stopped being able to live?

Will you remember me when I am in a jail cell for talking an ar15 to the mall and culling the endless herd of seep?

Will you remember me when they come for me in the night because I am screaming at what is not really there, but it is tormenting me all the same?

Will you remember me when I take a hot knife and burn the word fag in my arm after years of Christian guilt over who I want to fuck?

Will you remember me when I go and cast off everything I own and live on the streets because the voices in my head told me to?

Will you remember me when the cop shoots me for running at him with a knife and screaming "die demons"?

Will you remember me in an hour after you have read this and something catches your eye on YouTube?

Will you remember me when I become yet another face in an endless sea of hurt and anger; lost in the wilderness of poverty?

Will you remember me when you start to feel depressed and think, "hay he was here once"?

Will you remember me at all?

Or better yet; do you even know me?

Live Life.

David Sheldon Nicholson

Jan 11, 2009

We strive to be heard in this world.

We see the life before us and try to be relevant.

We want to be known and remembered.

We spend a life time trying to be someone we are not.

We spend our precious time trying to be immortal.

Yet we do not see what is real.

We do not see what is to come.

We do not see anything but our mask.

The world is but a flash in forever.

In time all will be forgotten.

In time there will be no trace of any of us left.

So we need to see what is important.

We need to see that we only have now.

We only have each other.

There is nothing else.

So is it a waste of time to do anything for this world?

No - for time is our greatest gift.

What little we are given must not be wasted.

We must spread a bit of life to all we encounter.

We must be part of all around us.

We are not immortal, so now is all we have.

Don't waste it; give all you can for it.

Live life!

Our Little Wall.

David Sheldon Nicholson

Jan 05, 2008

My mask speaks as we talk on the phone. One comment I did not share with you and fire licks from your words. You speak of things you did for me, but what of the things I gave up for you?

Anger lives inside the mask of calm and placid nature; burning to strike back. Fire, clay and bits of what I may have become once? all these make up the bricks I lay in the wall I will never see over as long as I live.

Your words form an axe that rips the flesh off the bones of this damaged life. 20 years away from you and still your hands control my movements. I did not lie, I only left out what would have caused you worry.

In the endless conversation I imagine striking you from my life. To have nothing more to do with your words of razor cuts. If only once I could have some time with not the feeling of inadequate bonding.

I take up with a stranger in the night to forget what I know. The two of us mix and mingle with the lust of the dammed. This brief pleasure found, stricken down by your memory.

For what I wanted to be can never be, for there is always you inside me mind. The happiest times are tinted with what you speak so sharply of. And such a simple thing you cause me pain for.

Your words of God make me want to strike you! Your cold hands upon mine fill me with dread! You do nothing but want of me; yet give almost nothing of substance back!

Anger drives my mind to turn upon itself. Rage blinds me from what is real and what is not. If it where not for the mask, you would be dead by my hand.

How can you call this love, when you have killed my soul and taken my dreams? How can you call yourself a part of me when you drive a spike threw my inner child? Ashes are what are left from what I was and you hold the torch in your hands.

I have given you everything I could give you and there is always more you want of me. I have taken the best part of my life and handed it to you for your needs, while forgetting mine. There is so little of me left now that I could never share with another again, in any meaningful way.

And all I want to know is why? Thank you for building this little wall. Thank you for all the time it took to take the best of me.

Cyber Stalkers.

David Sheldon Nicholson

April 13, 2007

If it where in the real world, he would be a loud obnoxious bully that always demands his way. But this is the land of cyber where all is just words on a monitor. The incisive chattering of his keys in the act of flaming others must be a thing to witness, but not from the end we are looking from. Does it make him feel good to try and spread his hate and muster others to think ill of someone in hope of driving them out of the chat room? Or is it that he sees more of himself in his delusional view of the others he talks about?

Could it be that he wants total control over anyone that will not give him the attention that he seeks so badly? Does he really want to drive all that oppose his limited view from the chat room? Yes, he does want this and with a passion never before felt in his limited life, he tries to control every last thing he can in the chat room. After all he has very little control over his life.

He lives in a small house on the bad side of town; the only place he has the money to reside. He gets his money from the government and anyone stupid enough to trust him in a financial venture; no matter how little he makes from doing so. All too many people in the real world see him for what he is, so he does not want them to invade his realm of illusion on the internet.

He tries to hide his past from those who wonder into the room. After all they may look on him as being human like the rest of us. But then the new person is from the same city as him and he can not stand the thought that he may be discovered by all in the room. He must try and chase this person from the web with any lie he can; and yes even attack them in the public window, with a vengeance we would all like to forget he is capable of.

A face pic is what he wants so if you find him to be offensive in cyber land he can go after you in the real world. After all, his unbalanced mind is always looking for the enemy that he sees. It is never enough and someone must always be the enemy. If he runs on person off, he will then turn to another at random. He is a hunter and we are his pray.

Yet still he finds the need to be seen as a gentle and normal human being. When in reality he is more of an animal with only his twisted delusions of being persecuted to keep him company. Yes, there have been those who would talk him into their lives for s time, only to find out that he can only feel for himself and no one else.

Should we feel angry and aggressive toward him? No we must pity his sad and lonely life of self exile. There is help for him, but he will die alone and thinking the world is out to get him. There are hands still willing to reach out to his aid, but he will stab at them with hate and despise. So sadly he will always be alone, even when he is with others he pretends to like. After all, no one can be trusted in his mind.

In my house of dreams

David Sheldon Nicholson

September 1, 2006

In my house of dreams there is love and no war.

In my house of dreams we all have equal ground.

In my house of dreams color is not a problem.

In my house of dreams terror lives no more.

In my house of dreams cancer and aids are a memory.

In my house of dreams money is a thing of the past.

In my house of dreams we all have homes.

In my house of dreams evil is only a concept.

In my house of dreams God is part of everyday life.

In my house of dreams we are at peace.

The elements.

David Sheldon Nicholson

July 29, 2006

In the wind I hear my soul,

In the wind I see the future,

In the wind I find hope.

In the water I see myself,

In the water I feel new,

In the water I can dream.

On the land I can grow,

On the land I can be,

On the land I can pray.

In the fire I see the world,

In the fire I hear the past,

In the fire there is no future.

The walk is long and hard.

David Sheldon Nicholson,

February 7, 2006

Night bird sings of the day,

The light of morning is dim and cold,

We find our way to the frost of winter days,

The walk is long and hard.

In the still of the night I think,

In the light of day, I hide,

With a breath of truth, I find courage,

The walk is long and hard.

It is the light of a higher power that I walk,

It is to my vision of what I must become that I strive,

With the many wrongs I have done and plead forgiveness,

The walk is long and hard.

I read of things long past and to come,

I read of the light of man and of his darkness,

I read of what I am now and what I once was,

The walk is long and hard.

This is the day of my beginning,

This is the way I need to be,

This is the way I am told to be,

The walk is long and hard.

What I am becoming is better than I could have hoped once,

What I am to be is a child of the Lord,

Where I am heading is to a new life in the day not the night,

The walk is long and hard.

Of The Spirit of Jesus

David Sheldon Nicholson

January 07, 2006

I have walked a path in a field,

I have seen the day break over the nights last stand,

I have felt the breeze on my face,

I am moved of the spirit of Jesus,

I have been tempted to the dark of night,

I have lasted the long night,

I have looked into the face of evil,

I am moved of the spirit of Jesus,

The rabbits danced and I knew hope,

The waters cool and clean ran over my feet,

The dirt of my life it washed off,

I am moved of the spirit of Jesus.

We never stand alone.

David Sheldon Nicholson

November 28, 2005

In the light of this world's anger I live.

In the light of your madness I survive.

In the time of hate and greed I pray for you.

In his light we never stand-alone.

In the days before the Lord returns I stand.

In the time of judgment, you will understand.

In the darkness of your world you must stand-alone.

In his light we never stand-alone.

For the Lord is my light and I will not fear.

For the Lord is faith and understanding.

For this alone I feel for you.

In his light we never stand-alone.

For all of time you must pay for your sins.

Just a word to his ear and all is forgiven.

Too look upon you is to see the darkness.

In his light we never stand-alone.

To be alone is such a loss.

In a crowded place you find no love.

Among the light of you are in shadow.

In his light we never stand-alone.

One day of reckoning will soon come.

One day your pride will be your loss.

The word is there for you to see.

In his light we never stand-alone.

In hast others are lost like you once where.

In life you have no glory.

The word has changed you.

In his light we never stand-alone.