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Alex Jul 23
From time I lay in bed and listen to the Shindler's List sad violin music and stare at the ceiling...never been much of a religious man but if id believe in anything it be to whatever higher power that lets man create music with such honest, real, raw emotion at that piece of music.

The picture that comes to my mind is a bird in winter exhausting looking for the blanket of snow covers a once green field now lays dead...I see myself as that bird...ever looking...ever hoping...

But because its simply a bird and its understanding of the severity of its situation is as oblivious is as its innocence...will it succumb to the cold bitter world and lay in that in peace my little friend...for you and I are one in the same...
Alex Jul 22
With fingers from behind the bed that reach out in the dark
The wrinkled skin, and sharp chipped nails...reminds you that shes come
You hide underneath the blanket, with little to no hope
As if standing upon the gallows staring at the rope...
Death comes in many forms...its unclear...which may come
But know that when it picks your name it leaves your body numb
It whispers your if in a prayer
And if it takes you early, it leaves you...with no heir
Don't ask what it looks like for none that live will know
And if you go searching its power will surly grow
Jul 10 · 25
Alex Jul 10
Like Meadowlarks upon the wheat
Who's songs speak of truth
I lay upon the field of gold
I lay there as if mute
Their songs can be heard from miles around
A sweet song they sing
For the memories of lovers lost
Is a...all to familiar sting
I reach out to grab the sun which leaves me in despair
The memories of what has gone is to much for one to bear
The breeze bring a simple touch...a kiss upon my face
But quickly does it remind me of this vast empty space
I lay here upon this field...that dirties my clean shirt
The stains of which I've earned... remind me of the hurt
Dear sweet meadowlarks sing me your songs of joy
For all that's left of me... is a lost little boy
Apr 14 · 1.6k
Hallowed Ground
Alex Apr 14
I find myself upon hallowed ground...
Amonst a courtyard of marbled stone
Whos touch is as cold as the winter night
Whos names are as blurred as the morning fog
That blankets the truth from unfamiliar eyes...
The leaves blow around me in a dance as if rehearsed
I find myself lost amongst this peace...
Never welcomed...never forgotten...
For what lays here is but a memory and a promise...
A promise that I shall return...and never leave...
Will that day be as cold as today?
As empty as the freshly dug graves?
Who will fill them?
All this quarantine and death has made me fall into a pit of despair so immense and deep that I have forgotten the warmth of the sun...its gentle kiss upon my face...
Alex Jan 3
You make me feel as small as a single grain of sand... that falls in an hourglass as dark as the corners of a unlit room and lost forever like the secrets of children unborn to mothers buried from a short-lived life unloved and forgotten.
Alex Dec 2019
“Where lies the final harbor, whence we unmoor no more? In what rapt ether sails the world, of which the weariest will never weary? Where is the foundling’s father hidden? Our souls are like those orphans whose unwedded mothers die in bearing them: the secret of our paternity lies in their grave, and we must there to learn it.”

― Herman Melville, Moby ****

One of the most raw and emotional things i have ever read and or heard be read.

I love Herman Melville may his words forever be available for future readers and writers alike.
Dec 2019 · 56
Lost in love.
Alex Dec 2019
Where does the sunset go?
With orange fire to lead its way
And I a bird upon a tree
To gaze upon the sky so free
Where do the stars begin?
On horizons deep and true
And what reflections do we see upon the morning dew
What truth is spoken upon our wake
What lies are worth a word
A box hidden that holds the ground
For where my love is found
My love for you is surpassed by none
For its true, pure, and free
For whistles from kettles sound upon a cup of tea
Alex Dec 2019
In measurement of time man is a grain of sand in an hourglass as vast as the universe itself. Every moment captured in memory makes that hourglass fill...Every failure...every triumph is another grain that time it will be covered by time we shall all be forgotten....Can you tell me what moment in time did the first grain fall? What moment will be the last? Who will tilt the glass in the end?
Dec 2019 · 61
A smile
Alex Dec 2019
Looking into your eyes
I see what the blind see
Hearing your voice
I hear what the deaf hear
For my heart speaks truth that only the mute repeat
Your beauty is that of flowers bloom
That hold in it the innocence of life
So fragile that a passing wind makes it kneel
So powerful that the fragrance forever is remembered
You are that of Cherry Blossoms
Who's beauty comes and goes with the seasons
Who's beauty is as if painted on a canvas to live for eternity.
Dec 2019 · 56
Schools? Or Death Camps?
Alex Dec 2019
A school in which we learned
Bodies gathered to be burned
Behind these walls are death camps now
Cause and reason we ask how?
About a field is what they'll say
A field of death is where they lay
Do we speak of a war-torn land?
Americas shadow is where we stand
Remember those who lost their lives
Weapons used were guns and knives
Countless names we add to lists
Numbers tattooed to our wrists
What's so different in the world today
Nothing for the clouds are gray
What the hell is wrong with the world now? Shake my head....shake my head hard.

This **** has to stop. =(
Nov 2019 · 706
Emilie Simon - Desert
Alex Nov 2019
Drift upon a sea of regret
my feet drag on the failures of my past
and weaken at missed opportunities

the waves cut my soul with words past said
the winds whispers the lies
the storm consumes me

Drift upon a sea of regret
i reach out my hand to lovers lost
they sink into darkness
their once warm touch is now gone

Nightfall appears unwelcome
The stars as vast as my sorrow
Each shine as a reminder
For i stand at sea alone
Every time I hear Emilie Simon - Desert it makes me feel totally lost...I love to listen to it with my eyes closed laying down to really feel every note, every word, every second of that heart breaking beautiful song.
Sep 2019 · 410
Samuel Barber - Agnus Dei
Alex Sep 2019
Falling in darkness...
Arms out for help...the void extends its hand
Sadness and despair embraces me...
A blindness overtakes me...
For now I see the truth
The once fading light of a candle was the creator
The smoke that rose once gone...his ghost
For it fades into nothing...
Nothing from which it came from and which it returns...

In measurement of time man is a grain of sand in an hourglass as big as the universe itself. Every moment captured in memory makes that hourglass fill...Every failure...every triumph is another grain that time it will be covered by time we shall all be forgotten....Can you tell me what moment in time did the first grain fall? What moment will be the last? Who will tilt the glass in the end?
Every time i listen to Samuel Barber - Agnus Dei I feel the highs and lows of every moment I have ever lived. I have never truly been a religious man but if I was to ever believe in a higher being it be that which let man create music such as this.
Sep 2019 · 94
A game of chess
Alex Sep 2019
Upon my deathbed years from now when asked do you have any regrets
My reply will be reply will be pure...
It will be said that upon my last breath as a single tear rolled down my cheek
I replied, "For being born in a world that showed me no love... when all I wanted was to share mine"
Praised be to the lord that holds me in bitterness...for he plays the chessboard well...
and I am the first and only pawn taken upon that board...
Sep 2019 · 41
Passing Shrug
Alex Sep 2019
Sitting upon trees burned
Whos foul named weve yet learned
Holds out hands with fingers bare
Lord of hell whos son is heir
Stands a figure whos cloak and shroud
Burns a darkness in fearful cloud
A sickle in hand gripped real tight
Tells a story of darkened plight
Now we lay in a hole just dug
With tombstones bare like a passing shrug
Sep 2019 · 45
Morning Fog
Alex Sep 2019
Standing alone in a field of mist and fog I find my only companions the lacerated remains of my body and soul

for the hallowed cries of crows torment me in despair with sadness so deep that the ocean itself could be consumed by it

As the morning fog fades so does my purity for all that's left is the cries of the seagulls by the sea and their reflection my memory
Sep 2019 · 70
Room without Light
Alex Sep 2019
I find love to be nothing but broken fragments of memories that portray all happiness in one moment
...or that of a painting in a lonesome hallway forgotten in darkness that holds the truth to blind eyes
Aug 2019 · 52
Alone in Darkness
Alex Aug 2019
Alone in darkness we find ourselves
Alone in time and space
And among these billion stars... we find the human race
From distance its beauty is found in green, blue, and even white
But a closer look we find a world full of overwhelming plight
How petty is the human race?
What little do we chase
What wonders do we over look?
With little to no grace
We fight out petty fights
And hope fault is shown
And when we lose an argument
We throw the largest stone
Instead of standing up for truth
To teach our troubled youth
A web of lies is what is sown
To win an imaginary throne
Everytime I turn on the news its always negative...always death...always darkness....where did we all go wrong?
Jul 2019 · 92
House of cards
Alex Jul 2019
With clubs we build the foundation
With diamonds we buy the tools
With clovers we decorate our garden
The heart is where it all starts

But the wind just blows it away
The aged hands shakes it all to nothing
The colors red and black separates us all

Give me a reason to rebuild
Give me a reason to pick up the pieces
Give me a reason to keep going

Be the Queen to my castle...
Let me be your King...

For at the end...its the joker that gets the last laugh...
And the rules mean nothing...
Jun 2019 · 409
The Hands of Death
Alex Jun 2019
With fingers bare and wrinkles shown
Much less is little known
With hands under cloak and shroud
A death a day is what is vowed
A figure in the darkest night
Weakens the soul from out of sight...

A mouth opened, and a whispered name
The lungs of one are fully drained...
The hands of the named now ice cold
The cause and reason are withhold

A widow stands at the grave site now
With eyes red and a wrinkled brow
Who knows what time will tell
But her name too will be whispered well
Jun 2019 · 85
Scary night
Alex Jun 2019
Why fear the darkness for the night brings dreams and a yearning of a kingdom for which man can fly and a lovers kiss warms the soul itself.

What gives us wisdom but what the blind see
What gives us knowledge for the mute hold the answer
What gives us truth for the deaf hear it so well...

The night is a wondrous thing for its only companion is fear....and fear its greatest weapon.
Jun 2019 · 163
The hallows of the lost
Alex Jun 2019
From the darkest corners of my soul
To the broken boarders of my heart
I find myself lost in darkness
From what was once an experience with familiarity so clear
That a blind man could paint on canvas...
is now but figments of broken memories
With sadness so deep that no sonnet could convey the depths of my despair
I find myself in the company of an angel's kiss, a demon’s touch.
May 2019 · 46
Lost sons of Dublin
Alex May 2019
A cheer to the fallen...a cheer to their name...For the solders of England is who are to blame. A sip of old whisky... a sting in the throat...for every glass emptied is another name wrote.
Apr 2019 · 76
Abby Grove
Alex Apr 2019
The red roses of Abby grove,
Stems of green and pollen gold,
Fallen leaves and the faint of scent
Winter comes in it’s deep decent.
The cold chill covers the once red field.
Lifeless and plain that holds no yield.
A once known fragrance now lost in white.
In the darkness under the moons bright light.
Is known. And forgotten in the spring last past.
Trees of green and meadows vast.
The meadow now white with snow
From echo cries of the faint black crow.
The red roses of Abby grove,
Once bright red now lost in snow.
Stems of green and pollen gold.
Apr 2019 · 199
The Blanket
Alex Apr 2019
With shallow graves we find the nameless
With each shovel of dirt we bury the truth
For the past is forgotten and the future unknown
The darkness is our blanket
Jan 2019 · 641
On the hills of old Dublin
Alex Jan 2019
On the hills of old Dublin the wind blows from the east
On the hills of old Dublin we gather for a feast
On the hill of old Dublin stands a village with ladies so fair
On the hills of old Dublin the priest stands in prayer
For we are the chosen...
For we hold the crest
For the solders of old Dublin will always be oppressed
On the hills of old Dublin we lay them to rest
On the hills of old Dublin forever will they be blessed
The brave sons of Dublin whose voices are gone
The brave sons of Dublin with battle lines drawn
The brave sons of Dublin whose courage is known
The brave sons of Dublin who stand as stone
A cheer to the fallen...a cheer to their name...for the solders of England is who are to blame. A sip of old whisky... a sting in the throat...for every glass emptied is another line wrote.
May 2018 · 78
Bright Day's Sky
Alex May 2018
Where lies a field of unblossomed flowers and unplanted trees in what man stands alone?…

Where lies the final season, where the unblossomed flowers grow? In what field do these trees stand?

Where a wind is the hand of God…gentle will it let us fly like pollen gold in the bright day's sky.
May 2018 · 83
Alex May 2018
Our souls are like the patterns on the backs of birds...and the secret of our innocence lay in their reflection...

for the blind see what we glance at...
the deaf hear the truth...
and the mute repeat it.
May 2018 · 47
Bisbellow Mannor
Alex May 2018
The empty halls of Bisbellow Mannor
Cold and dark under the torn burned banner
The empty rooms once full of life
Stand still and quiet from troubled strife
The empty stables once full of grace
Stands decayed and forgotten in time and space
The royal banner flew once high and proud
Lays fallen and thorn in mist and shroud
Greed and power let to blame
Covers this kingdom under a mist of shame
The hand that pulled the bow string tight
Released the arrow with fury’s might
Like lightning flew in the clouded sky
Through gale and rain with no reply
Struck the chest through a metal shield
Fell the king on the littered field
Alex May 2018
The plain iron gates of Timothy Lane
Wet and cold from the winter rain…
Of bleak weeks past and unknown days
Cold with dismay from the widow’s gaze
The widow’s eyes red from tears
Of nightmares past and present fears
The bells of the church ring far and wide
From shadows dark well implied
The plain iron gates of Timothy Lane
Wet and rusted from the winter rain…
The dark gray clouds fill the once blue sky
Darkens the day like a child’s cry
The plain iron gates of Timothy Lane
Rusted and stained from the tears and rain.
Of bleak weeks past and unknown days
Cold with dismay from the widow’s gaze
May 2018 · 58
The Lonesome Tree
Alex May 2018
Where stands the lonesome tree?
And what protects it, the branches?
What shapes its growth but the weary?
And amongst said branches…leaves.

What fragile life do we share with it?
For like the leaves we brittle and fall…
and like the wind…. breath fades...

What supports its existence?
Is it time? Persistence?
What is its purpose?

Alone and lost underneath these branches
Stand in fear we take our chances

And in the distance stands a figure
Who’s cloak and shadow dance with vigor

Who’s face as if clouded
Whose memories all but shrouded
Whose name all but doubted…

Silence as if in mocking
In truth as if blocking

And in the darkness we stand and ponder
In the darkness our minds wonder
The time that we lose and squander
Under the lonesome tree

— The End —