Awake we sit
Armed to the teeth and waiting for war
It marches through doorways
Ours is next.
I look at you and see blood.
From our forefathers and theirs
Lucky strikes his fortune
Mayhem behind, more ahead.
Woe to the unprepared!
Why didn’t you make plans
For something you couldn’t foresee?
Woe to the doomsayers!
Why do you make ready
Your homes for the impossible?
Aren’t you ready
For inquisition of the top
The scrutiny of the roof.
Responsibility lay there,
its little hands poke up
Out of the hay wanting
To be picked up and taken
Out of the shed,
The manger.
Aug 25, 2011
Aug 25, 2011 at 4:08 PM UTC
Twice the light burns heat.
Submarine finds the mind in a deep sea sleep.
If only.
Lie still and silently cry out to the dark.
Listen to the drip drip drop of the faucet.
A pocket watch.
You plead for the pulse thump to stop.
Agonizing over greenbacks and life plans
Paralyzing thoughts of What’s next? And where now?
Questions void of answers.
Answers crammed with doubt.
The red sticks re-arrange once more.
Bargaining with time declines result.
She has it in for you friend.
A million memories churn and wrestle
While each flickering moment blurs away.
Straining to relax,
Exhausting yourself to find peace.
And there it is.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Tomorrow.
Jan 30, 2010
Jan 30, 2010 at 7:07 PM UTC