|The Little Red Bedtime Book .com
FREE Funny Short bedtime Stories
& Poemish Poems
One bright day while sleeping in the dark,
I awoke in the middle of a dream.
And as I slept,
I was with my favorite pet,
whom had died the yesterday of long ago.
We romped and frolicked through the fields of mice and rain,
taking for granted our time together,
Still we played and played,
until the very last day.
Pretending it was here to stay.
Wondering about the places we had never been,
Even though the years have passed,
I still see him pounce,
and jump through the grass.
My love for him tomorrow will last longer than today,
and I only dream,
we could go out and play.
Remember, Thou Art
Cogito Ergo Sumthin'
First they came for Logic,
and I did not speak out,
for I did not think logically.
Then they came for
and I did not speak out,
for I did not think
Then they came for Thesis
and I did not speak out,
for I did not think
synthetically. Finally they
came for me,
and I could no longer think
The Power of The Pen
Woe, behold the power of the pen.
For now it is mightier than the sword.
In Government hands,
it can change,control,or even kill.
In a poets hands,
it can create words of love, joy, happiness,
fear, sadness, anger or regret,
in the form of a poem or story.
In a writers hands,
it can tell wonderful tales of
beautiful things such as princesses and kings,
the birds, the bees and dragons with wings.
In a screen writers hands,
it can create horror and blood galore,
tell a story behind a war,
or a movie,
that is just a total bore!
But when it is in my hands...
It is never known,
whether it will be words of wisdom,
a letter home,
or a simple creation all my own!
The pen is a wonderful thing of which to write what you
as long as it remains full of ink!
of the pen.
Never hold me down,
never let me go,
and never run away!
you are my everything,
you are my heart,
You are my soul,
You are my life,
You are my wife.
Until death do we part,
And only then do I wish for a new start
and another life,
with you forever,
In my heart.
The pain, the pain...
Oh god the pain.
I can't feel it,
so why is it there?
only mental health.
Fear of what is not there.
Discontentment of what is.
Longing for what may never be,
dreams of what we fail to see.
Melodramatization of the brain,
only to refrain from acknowledgement
of the pain.
Sad attempts to fulfill
what is not there.
Blind to what is.
Epic debauches of life's past,
run through and trough,
of what, why, when,
and who is who.
The pain only gains and gains,
the emptiness is the same.
The less the more, the more the same.
Slowly becoming emotionally poor,
wondering what life has in store,
yet not wanting anymore
of what life perpetually
gives and takes.
Most of it
whether it is physical, emotional, or
| Why Must We Cry
Why must everything that lives,
or is loved, die?
Why must we feel the pain of utter despair,
Hopelessness and emptiness to follow thereafter.
Only to fill the void once again,
with something or someone, that is temporary,
or will also die.
Why must we only find content
within external input of feelings and emotions?
And how can you love yourself,
if you do not export or share the same,
knowing that you can and will also die,
leaving some one else in pain.
To love is to be loved,
and when that external side of you is gone...
You may once again fill that void,
and move on.
But it may never be complete,
for fear of separation anxiety
Or at the very least,
it may never be the same as the one you once chose...
So go ahead and cry.
|Standing in fake light
watching the happy families drive past,
on their way to memories,
I am the ghost in the night.
I see allot here.
The ebb and tide of my existence,
going unnoticed by the masses.
My physical youth
has long since past,
it feels that my mind grows fresher
and more curious each day.
What IS this, this life?
I hold myself close within the
tattered tresses of my shroud.
I walk and float to my final resting place,
my final waking.
|When you get what you want
in your struggle for self,
And the world makes you king for a day,
Just go to a mirror and look at yourself,
and see what that man has to say,
For it isn't your father or your mother or wife,
Who's judgement upon you must pass,
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life,
is the one staring back from the glass.
Some people might think
you're a straight shootin' chum,
And call you a wonderful guy.
But if the man in the in the glass
says you're only a bum.
If you can't look him straight in the eye.
He's the fellow to please.
Never mind all the rest,
For he's with you clear to the end,
And you've passed your most
dangerous and final test,
If the man in the glass is your friend.
You may fool the whole world
down the pathway of years and life,
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But your final reward will be heart ache and tears,
If you've cheated the man in the glass.
Under the full moon light,
Dancing shadows in the night,
Clouds passing through the milky way,
And a star Shimmers in the lonely night
as the bats wings flutter in flight,
and only you in my sight.
things I see
by the light of day.
|Two lost souls
dancing in the wind
upon shadows of the night.
Epic debauches in a life's wake.
Perhaps it is all life has to give and take.
Like a teaspoon of salt, in a endless sea of hope and dreams.
We must eat from within the plate
when it is full.
Waste not a single pea, For it may be the last that will ever
Celebrate each day and night, Knowing you are cherished
by life, love, and all the human emotions to which we are
in endless flight.
The bats fly round and round feeding on
There are billions of them,
flourishing from the darkness of which they
they fight each other for selfish woes,
Until there is nothing left but salt and sea,
they too perish from their needless greed.
|Soon all wild animals will sit in social
and wonder what happened to their
For man has invaded and destroyed
to make their own.
Soon there will be no such a thing as
a wild life,
for everything will in a cage of sorts.
No matter how big or small,
wide or tall.
Nature means natural and it is
best when left alone,
or it isn't natural,
and SOMEBODY has disturbed a
|Wish I may,wish I might,
wish I could hold you,
in my arms to night.
A star shines bright,under the cool
Your hair resembling that of wispy
feathered clouds riding a warm
Your eyes dark as the shadows
of the night,
glowing with love as we feel the
warmth of each others touch.
Softly kissing lips on oh so tender
and the swaying of our hips,
as we dance to the tune of our own
|I thought of you today, but that is nothing new.
I thought about you yesterday, and days before that too.
All I have are memories and a picture in a frame.
Your memory is a keepsake, from which I'll never part.
God has you in his arms I have you in my heart.
|Hidden behind cloak and dagger I live by the light of night.
I do not wish the world to see me for they seem to think that I am of
The general population of society works and slaves by day for
their quality of life and thinks they are better than I.
Little do they know I too must work and sweat for the life style
I have chosen to lead and enjoy. Only those who get in my way
become my prey.
To most I am but a ghost in the thick night air for they never see
me, only the ripple effects of my actions.
Like the ones who live by the light of day,
I too work hard to live,to love, and pray for the day my children can
go out and play with the freedom of will by day or by night.
I call it peace, they call it criminal.
Who am I ???
I have many names...
BT year unknown
|I am the light that may only exist in darkness...
For I am nigh but a moons shadow dancing upon barren rock of a dry river that is laden beneath walls of
sand, created and trapped by the illusions of time in an unforgiving world.
I promote the healing of broken souls and wounded flesh so they may continue to follow distorted
reflections of the water that once was and is now confused by shimmering light.
Others become lost, relying on primal instincts of survival only to continue their endless search for yet
another like illusion in time.
Some take steps upon dry,cracked and bleeding heel, whilst others crawl blindly, reaching out with
callused trembling hand to feel the way of which they do not know.
Some ride above on sunken mount, looking down upon those with out. Yet, it is they who stumble, falter
and fear that which they cannot see, hear or feel anything more than twisted wind,
and perceived illusions of ... Time.
BT- Late 2008
|Torn between two pages of tattered and beaten books.
I read each page over and over again, not sure which to turn first.
One says riches and the other fame, each of which has its respective
I wait to read which will reveal itself as a chosen path yet to be decided
Many have turned these pages before and many will again.
One page will lead to a heightened elevation of consciousness, a less
traveled unknown or forgotten path.
If I turn a page in haste, it may well be in vain and ignorance, but if I
hesitate I may lose that of which I never had, nor learn of
which it was meant to be or should have been.
Torn between two pages of tattered and beaten books that rely on
The stories yet to unfold, will be told to children grown, with stories of
their own creation, only to be revealed in their finding.
Between the pages of each divine life, each as significant as the next,
each with their own page, all within a common binding,
and a single tattered cover of that which we call life.
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It was one that insured me that hell on earth was coming with all its glory.
As an earthquake shook Japans world apart,
I knew then it was only the start.
It is the end of the old and the beginning of the new world
in which only the oceans and the fish will exist.
Fire lights up the sky and burns the earths crust above
leaving nothing but ash and dust.
Bt ~ year unk