DarkWind• Show poetry

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I'm mildly insane...at least thats what they tell me...i tend to write dark poems with a little hope at the end or just dark poems or very very rarely happy poems.
death is the only salvation but one should not seek death for that is to destroy all the knowledge you could have given to others....be happy just to spite the other people

if annoyed further i shall spork your eyes out....



my ap family is...
father: blackhybridillusion
sister: xsweetxbabex
crazy lil sister of doom: DelirousMuffins (muffy):^)

The History of "Taps"

It all began in 1862 during the Civil War, when Union Army Captain Robert Ellicombe was with his men near Harrison's Landing in Virginia. The Confederate Army was on the other side of the narrow strip of land. During the night, Captain Ellicombe heard the moan of a soldier who lay mortally wounded on the field. Not knowing if it was Union or Confederate soldier, the Captain decided to risk his life and bring the stricken man back for medical attention. Crawling on his stomach through the gunfire, the Captain reached the stricken soldier and began pulling him toward his encampment. When the Captain finally reached his own lines, he discovered it was actually a Confederate soldier, but the soldier was dead. The Captain lit a lantern. Suddenly, he caught his breath and went numb with shock. In the dim light, he saw the face of the soldier. It was his son. The boy had been studying music in the South when the war broke out. Without telling his father, he had enlisted in the Confederate Army. The following morning, heartbroken, the father asked permission of his superiors to give his son a full military burial despite his enemy status. His request was partially granted. The Captain had asked if he could have a group of Army band members play a funeral dirge for his son at the funeral. That request was turned down since the soldier was a Confederate. Out of respect for the father, they did say they could give him one musician. The Captain chose a bugler. He asked the bugler to play a series a musical notes he had found on a piece of paper in the pocket of his dead son's uniform. The music was the haunting melody we now know as "TAPS" that is used at all military funerals.


The words to "TAPS"; are


Day is done,
Gone the sun,
From the lakes,
From the hills,
From the sky.
All is well.
Safely rest.
God is nigh.



I am the guy who came out to the entire school in his senior speech and got a standing ovation for his courage.
I am the girl who kisses her girlfriend on the sidewalk and laughs at those who glare.
We are the couple who planned and studied and got a damn good lawyer and BEAT the state that wanted to take our child away.
We are the ones who took martial arts classes and carry pepper spray and are just too dangerous to gaybash.
I am the transgendered person who uses the bathroom that suits me, and demands that any complaining staff explain their complaint to my face in front of the entire restaurant -- and shares with my other trans friends which restaurants /don't/ raise a stink.
I am the mother who told her lesbian daughter to invite her girlfriend over for dinner.
I am the father who punished his son for calling you a fag.
I am the preacher who told my congregation that love, not hate, is the definition of a true follower of God.
I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.
I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.
I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.
We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.
I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.
I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.
I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.
I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.
We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.
I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.
I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.
I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.
I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.
I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.
I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn't have to always deal with society hating me.
I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.
I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.
I am making a difference. Hate will NOT win.
REPOST THIS ON YOUR PAGE IF YOU BELIEVE HOMOPHOBIA IS WRONG!!!

92% of teens have moved onto rap(money, sex, and cars?!). If you are part of the 8% that still listen to real music then put this in your profile.



|………..|
|………..| Put this on your page
|………..| If you've ever pushed
|…….O.| a door that said
|………..| pull on it.
|………..|
|………..|


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