I can hear it asking questions.
I can hear it staking claim to the fertile grounds of my mind
But I've been cheated for far too long.
A wrong has to be made right,
My mind yearns for the light that has been concealed by the branches of this dark idea.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
He was calm, cool and relaxed
In his Papa's old forbidden barn
His eyes hid a lonely happiness
It was a quiet summer afternoon
At first he thought it was a man
But in the heat, he couldn't decide
And his young heart felt haunted
So from a distance he watched
Then, the clouds gathered
And a mighty storm brewed
Darkness slithered into the barn
Rife with the venom of uncertainty
And like the darkness , she crept in
Her eyes haunted by a strange fear
Danced about the old lonely barn
But not one glance fell on the boy
He watched her and her thoughts
Settle down in the hay and into sleep
The barn was now dark and quiet
With the exception of silent sobs
Then suddenly they stopped,
In his minds eye they dispersed
Like the dark stormy clouds, then
He slowly crept up to her
But before he could do the ritual
Strange fingers griped his hand
They had the terrifying grip of death
And death was a man!
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 2:14 AM UTC
The perfect reflection of change
Revealing the illusory dichotomy
Of a present on the move
Fading into the past,
Approaching the future
Like a moving hyperbola
Casting a mysterious shadow
On things we can never know
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 6:23 PM UTC
What has become of us love?
What has become of us?
The good night kisses
The playful teases
Have all faded away
Nothing but memories
Reflections of a lost bond
There's no color
In our beautiful painting
There's no odor
In our ring-sealed garden
The birds still sing,
But the air is rife
With the sound of gun shots,
Bombs, and grenades
Our battles are endless
And tear at the core
Of our hearts
Have we become monsters?
Feeding on hatred, revenge and desperation
Or vampires,
******* love's blood
At the cuts of our bleeding hearts
What has become of us love?
What has become of us?
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 2:08 PM UTC
It's 3 in the morning
And he's by the candle light
The place is silent
Except for pencil sounds
And heart pounds
His eyes cold and strained,
Fingers creaking with pain
His back strong, his spirit unbroken
His head still, his mind open
Pouring out ideas, bright
By the candle light
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
He wields the Hammer
Yet sees no nails
So blindly he swings
Through space, through time
Untill they rust,
Untill they come lose,
Untill they fall,
His box open
The hammer is fallen
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC