Rally of faces gathered in groups
build a large crowd crying for truth
shields of black night forming a wall
blocking the protest from getting through
Smokey haze of poisonous gas
tossed from above where the bright white cast
soldiers march in with gun and knife
darkness protected guarding its mask
Meaning lost, forgotten in pain
arrests and murders let free to take place
a movement disbanded by merciless force
and invalidated by terrible names
"Terrorists and bigots all who align!"
none to believe it true, but all remain afraid
of the government's arm to silence questions
and the wrath of unforgiving puppets
The Revolution is coming
pay wound with war
enough to join us
and tyranny will fall
May 22, 2022
May 22, 2022 at 10:53 AM UTC
A parcel of life
wrapped in a red bow
lifted by the good
and left in our hands
how do you handle
the unwieldy gift?
And is it to be
opened where you stand?
Miracles will come
most unexpected
always unknown and
loved in their splendor
So how should i feel
when you hand me this?
A bouquet for one
naming me center
of your world
Apr 8, 2022
Apr 8, 2022 at 8:02 PM UTC
The robin sings its golden hymn,
the turtledove its coo.
While 'neath the spring of wet and damp
does life return anew.
The grass turns green, the snow to rain.
The trees bow to the sun.
As leaves sprout from their mighty boughs
where dewdrops drip and run.
Oh, how the old forgotten rot,
the sting of winter's wrath,
all melts away and heals in heat
as deer soon shed their racks.
A world rebirth so fondly sought
lest snows return again.
We seek the flower of new spring,
sweet solace such to send.
Mar 7, 2022
Mar 7, 2022 at 3:32 PM UTC
They say that you died peacefully.
I can only hope that was the case.
I wasn’t there when you needed me.
For six years, I haven't seen you face.
We had our good times and bad.
I choose a pink rock like the salmon you caught
after tearing me away from my dad.
You were there for me when he passed.
Some think that you knew all along.
The disease that he had given him by his dad
Was the same one he passed onto me.
You were there when they gave me the news.
How I'd never have children again.
Then, I was shipped overseas
for a job with little pay in the end.
It was my wife that called me,
my little boy that found you in the yard.
As I strike your name into this headstone
it finally hit me that you're gone.
Feb 16, 2022
Feb 16, 2022 at 8:32 PM UTC
"You can do anything you set your mind to."
What if you lost it along the way?
Is this just another fable I fell for,
a lie I've been told, or something more?
Does it ring true?
And if I've lost my mind,
then how do I know
I really love you?
Jan 22, 2022
Jan 22, 2022 at 9:58 AM UTC
Imagine a wasp
With no stinger, no threat
Would you still hate them?
Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 8:32 PM UTC
I used to be one, alpha and alone.
Then I met another and we became two.
A second pair of ones made us group to four.
Separate couples in love conjoined by the door.
I thought, "Yes, perfection resting in one place.
No single forsaken. No odd to replace."
And with the others I began to relate.
Between all my lovers, dancing figure eights.
Confusion was nowhere until one had left.
Disbanding impending, loneliness beset.
For what was I if not dependent on others?
And what was love if not so fragile to shatter?
An odd now, our pairs gone. Back to times once far past.
I should have known dancing figure eights would not last.
Creation, division, subtraction, addition.
Another number reluctant to submission
in hiding behind all these makeshift partitions
preventing us from making our own decisions.
I cast off my labels. I am not a one
because people are people and love is still love.
Whether odd or even, whether large or small,
partners will always forget about it all.
They care for the person and not for the name
which makes it my fault that they left all the same.
I'll still dance with numbers and laugh at their games,
but when sadness takes over, I'm the one to blame.
I'm not number but a person, a fraud,
and love is something of which I was never taught.
Nov 2, 2021
Nov 2, 2021 at 12:35 PM UTC
What is white?
The amalgamation of all color
combined into a pure beam of light
not turned a muddy brown
And how is this true?
A storm of emotions not resulting in chaos
but in order through
a single shade
White like the snow
White like bones
pure as holy
fair as just
What is white?
There is no real white
no truth, no right
All stained by some other color
because even the most beautiful, wonderful things
have a shadow
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 11:10 AM UTC
The rain fell like snow
A mist above the ground
Gentle as the flakes of winter
Warm as the last days of summer
echoing whispers of birdsong
permeating the air
What was it called again?
That quiet strength it brings
right the wrongs of yesterday
calico thoughts turned to grey
remember the happiness I once had
and form another memory
Sep 20, 2021
Sep 20, 2021 at 4:34 PM UTC