Swords clashing as knights swing
The sharp daggers create an obnoxious ping
The knights are only a small piece of this fight
People fighting for what they think is right
The evolution of war begins with the gun powder
Small particles, creating explosions getting louder
Once gunpowder was used, hand to hand was rare
More national armies used after westernization’s appear
Nowadays, the deadliest weapons ever created
With the nuclear bombings, making populations deflated
Killing off people who are defenseless from these killers
Fighting war for not freedoms as much, but for oil drillers
I think of honor, and pride
And the clashing of swords
The Heart that beats inside
Master my weapon, an art form
I will protect my land and master,
At the cost of my own life
Arrows and katanas only come faster,
And I'll slip in to the light
The code I've lived by, do or die,
sadness touches everything when it comes,
dawn is darkness
light is a fire
kind words are swords
in the moments of pain there is nothing,
not even nothing
it can not be explained
i see from behind my mind,
like watching tiny cars moving from the air
as passing thoughts
waves of emotions
we are not our feelings
we are nothing
not even that
like murder driven samurai's & cerebral poisoned psychopaths we slay each other with words.
i choke you with my words and you hang me with yours, but we don't die.
instead all that pain lingers at the back of our eyes and it causes us to see red.
like sharp blades running through bruised skin from an injured soul, we silently dissect wounded minds. every one fights a battle.
s(words) are potent, carefully wield yours.
like lost swords in the wind.
im a samurai poet. i use words as oxygen to help you breath and by reading these words you breath again.
i use words as medicine to transfer positive energy to you, samurai reader.
im a samurai thug. im a lost blade in the wind.
i use words like Martin Luther King and set free, i. i set myself free with my own words, i can because im a writer.
words are freedom. words are captivity. words are destruction. words are peace. the tongue is mighty powerful.
i use words to tell dispirited women that their beautiful because they grew up with the idea that beautiful is factory made products. the idea of beautiful is you.
i use words to tell hurt men that they can cry because they grew up being told tigers don't cry. crying is human, and i was told tears are wisdom distilled.
i use words to tell the youth they can be themselves because they grew up thinking acting like a fake gangster is all there is to life. the world is bigger than that.
im a samurai poet. a samurai thug. these words are blades. thug life.
stay samurai cool.
It’s okay to be alone
To stand on your own
Even when standing means
kneeling with arms throwing
prayers to God
Even when standing means sitting
and looking through memories
Even when standing means crying
making yourself lighter in the tears
Even when standing means stepping
and putting one foot in front
to brace your desire of
It’s okay to be together
With hands held tight
Except when hands are swords
thrown more carelessly
than insulting words
Except when hands are lies
beckoning false hope to set up
camp in broken homes
Except when hands are eyes
pulled away by naked screens
crushing bones and hearts
Except when hands are pocketed
because being together
isn’t all it’s cracked up to be
It's okay to be brave.
(We smell like kindling driftwood)
(We smell like pagan victors)
Lashes like weeds planning their battle on my wept, wet cheeks.
(We smell like newborn foxes on a bed of blooming baby dandelions)
Blistered toes and explosions in the sky.
(We smell like red skies and flesh cooked dry)
Cool drizzles on bare skin bike rides.
(We smell like damp reminiscence)
Sex and sweat and minimal frustration.
(We smell like beachside bonfires on breezeless Labor days.)
Walks that crumple autumn death.
(We smell like warm apple cider)
3 am coffee in the middle of November.
(We smell like toasted socks)
Holiday cookies and midday oral.
(We smell like cinnamon Schnapps)
Morning mimosas in cotton bathrobes.
(We smell like candied inebriation)
A chance of more snow.
(We smell like waiting patiently)
Pollen romps in tulip beds.
(We smell like newborn babies)
We smell like every ending I watched as a kid
andwhen you said this will never end
I rolled over.
We roll our own cigarettes
with a water bottle full of Merlot,
chase the gulls,
(no credits roll here)
watch the worms flood the streets,
feel the Category Five sweep the cicada shells right by us,
take cover in snow-covered sheds,
I wear headscarves, your sweaters and sometimes
nothing at all.
I ride bikes, the crest of waves
and storms that take coasts by inimical force.
I just hope the seasons never change
You said this will never end
and grabbed me by the gruff of the neck
like a tom with a kitten
licked the cream from your seeking hands,
laid down my swords
nuzzled in your coarse brown fur,
and I smiled and I
This is victory.
(We smell like God’s best laid plans)
Its the small things that go unnoticed
And the strong people that are left without credit
Not like they'd accept it
These people - they get it
Get that people need kindness to get by
Understand that not everyone can keep their spirts high
These people are the ones who do the most
They are the ones in the background
The ones who do the little things
Small compliments spoken to a nobody
Because if they didn't say it
No one else would
Genuine smiles passed to those
Who might not otherwise see one
Let alone have one themselves
Everyday super hero's
Use no swords, no bows and no arrows
But they are fighters
Fighters of depression
Starters of succession
Because they can't stand to see society send any more people to heaven
These people are heros
Because putting a stranger before yourself is heroic
and to be an every day hero
is no mere miracle
Because these people make life bearable
I am tied to you
Bounden to this
Love it or loathe it
I'll not leave you here to anguish
The girl's mother told her that Mammy was God
Gourmands hate to be groomed, don't ya know it?
Rheya, I've loved you so
And clutched you through the dead hours of night
Sulfur blazes in my field of view
Sartorial elegance, haute swan motif
We made up this game
Where we would go around with swords abreast
Asking people to raise their hands if they were either a Republican or Christian—and for those whose hands were extended toward the sky—it was off with their heads
And the rest we let live just to tell about it
All in good time
All in good fun
My face must've grew today
As my mask did not want to fit.
'So nice' they say she is
But they don't really know shit.
They tell you you're one way
But you feel another
For the benefit of others.
The biggest of smiles
Everyone using teeth for their mirror
What do I want?
It's always unclear.
Those wars we fought,
No one came out alive
But my card read medic
Somehow I chose to survive.
Everyone had half a mouth.
I had only half of one too
It's hard to pick sides when blinded like that
Or hard when both sides want you.
They only needed a moment though
Her niceness was overstayed.
The others all stared with swords in their sides
Feeling as though they had been betrayed.
How can you be such a pinball?
Such a spineless, cowardice tool?
What makes you think you're alliances to all?
What the hell are you trying to prove?
I was just wearing that mask I had once.
It was more like a helmet I guess.
I don't have a civil duty to any
I'm just trying to stay abreast.
But no one can trust a man who has no enemies.
For he stands for nothing at all.
I was dead all along in the trenches,
For the mask/helmet I had was too small.
Everyone will tell you your strengths
When it's something which they desire.
It's disgusting at best but I never act up
I know you can't fight fire with fire.
So let all the others wave the white flag
See if they can lay down their weapons.
I'm at war with myself but you all are too
One day again, we'll be friends.
~Inspired by a Special Lady~
A damsel in distress
should certainly watch the signs,
it’s what will keep her alive
when those rats talk their jive.
But sometimes Darling,
pushing the envelope
ain’t such a bad thing.
Cross swords with this pirate,
you won’t get pillaged,
you’ll get ravished,
the best fling
a maiden ever had.