What a pity to be so undone
The greatest of tragedies to be unsung.
With each step weighing the weight of ten suns.
Finally I got the message; I’m done.
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 11:16 AM UTC
Can it be?
Can she be?
And me?
Can I see?
Quite as well as she sees me?
Or will it flee,
In some deep, dark side of me?
Or can she be...?
And me...?
Will I... finally be free?
Or...will I be the same old me,
Wondering what she can be?
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 3:58 AM UTC
I felt it leave that night,
The deep whisper inside the blight.
A tyrant voice with a song of reason.
hardy, bruised, and fiercely seasoned.
It left in the icy winter wind,
taking the last good thing a good man defends.
The last good thing that makes a man,
now a hollowed creature with an act to pretend.
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 2:08 AM UTC
"Your fate was made from the start," he spoke in a riddle.
Each word is alone and disorganized, as an undone puzzle.
And the knife in his hand, to the right, and the purpose it had,
loosely held by a man who had recently gone mad.
"From the start?" the victim could only reply,
with his only thought the contemplation of how he will die.
Fear had conquered him; bought him, and held him.
But that was not his final mad mistake; the man was already dim.
"Everything is for a single reason," the assailant fit the knife where it has always been.
"Fate is neither ***** nor is it clean."
"It is neither late nor is it early."
"This the one truth we know truly."
"Time is inevitable; it makes slaves of us all."
"Your death is undeniable. Rebellion serves nothing but to stall."
The knife felt like a sheet of ice over his old his heart,
and the last thing he whispered before he died, "From the start?"
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 5:52 AM UTC
Understanding sometimes seem like a natural destiny.
It seems something we are born of or born from, and shrouded in mystery.
Where the truth is rarely clear and the lies are deafeningly loud,
and all life is met at the crossroad, where they are bent or bowed.
There, a World Maker decides; a new world to be born.
And reality is stretched in two and, of course, torn.
One pulled to the left and the other dragged to the right.
But in you, a sure fear yours was made of untested blight.
And understanding?
Well, that's gone. Gone as suddenly as it was a kind of thing.
Love is maddening.
What we know of it is pitiful and saddening.
But a decision must be made.
So, again, I'll test my fate.
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 1:19 AM UTC
American whispers are clouding your mind,
denying you of that time when you were kind.
Now their voices are rising nothing but war
against the desperate and the desperately poor.
But even then, underneath the soaring wings of pessimism,
A new humanity is born right through the cataclysm.
It cleanses the old that is slowly and surely dying,
and shuts the ears to American whispers with their lying.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
I raise the sun in the morning,
and the moon in the night.
I sing the stars into being,
and chase the darkness out of sight.
I blow the wind that moves the worlds,
and forge the rains that falls ahead.
I do this all, alone and scared
that you won't know me until I'm dead.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 9:14 AM UTC
What is of a warrior wounded, defeated, and tired?
And define a soldier with no courage is a coward.
What names a bird forever banned from the sky?
And what says a wolf that cannot beg for the moon's light.
If purpose is the sure path to happiness,
what am I that I have so much less?
Where and how should the blame rest?
For the soldier and the bird, and even the wolf did their best.
could the message be ever so clear?
Could it be it be true we no longer belong here?
And that voice deep in our head that seems to know all,
what part will it play--to our victory or to our fall?
Enough... cradle your thoughts and let them not grow.
Now say your final goodbye, and take your leave home.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 7:23 PM UTC
I am known for a hundred thousand reasons to be hated,
This, a foretold punishment for denying what's fated.
Finally, you are better than me,
I say, and yield my sword and shield, and take a knee.
Forgive me, if you will, my only crime:
assuming I could live my way this life of mine.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 2:06 PM UTC
Would you trust me If I told you I knew evil?
Would you believe these words if they were spoken not by a hero?
No?
I dreaded so.
To the nature that holds so strong,
that fixes the compass to right and wrong,
I pray you peace,
and leave us be
so that a human is full and whole,
complete in mind, body, and soul.
So, yes, I've met evil. Though not in me,
but in the world I can only see.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 11:07 PM UTC