Final Sunrise: Ode To A Soldier

I ran all throughout the night,
Scrambling clumsily through
foreign forests,
Exhausting my mere mortal might,
Hollers and whoops follow in chorus,

Struggling to believe, this is true,
This tree looks tall and strong,
Perhaps I’ll rest for a wink or two,
Rest the wounds that bleed my brawn,

Arrow in the back,
A deep **** along the torso,
They overcame every attack and tact,
My tried true tunic red and tore and Lo!

And behold, defeat of invincibility,
Pierced by impervious persons of pouncing pinpoint power,
A score of potent soldiers perished in peril,
A leader forced to cower,

As I sit, my breath won’t catch,
I know, they must **** me, it’s the only way,
Broad, rabid dogs play fetch,
Bark! Bark! It’s fine... just let me live long enough to see the day,

I’ve exhausted my mere mortal might,
Sun threatens to break the black skyline,
Dawn! I long for your divine lights song,
Yellow, red, orange and blue pierce the starlit sky and draws a yawn,

The air gets crisp, the mornings fate,
Dew forms on my broken breastplate,
The brisk night, ordaining dawn,
A starry umbra moves a long,

Odd that I feel no fear or hate,
Coming to terms with my current state,
Black frames preclude my sight,
Bleeding out my mere mortal might,

Light hits like a flash of flame,
Warming fingers and blood flecked face,
Finally caught my breath, oh hark!
Bark! Bark! Bark! Drawing closer with axe and mace,

Yet the hunting voices fade,
What a rush, quite the chase,
Comfortable in the position I have laid,
Blood on pain, I laugh fore they will find me slain,

On this tree I lean, down and slayed,
Sword on chest a humble pawn,
The sky clear blue mixed jade,
Feeling peace, bestowed by dawn,

One by one my mere mortal might, severs ties,
Drifting off to sleep, Lo!
My final sunrise,

The foreign soldier bled by dawn,
His sword, rested on his chest,
A face of peace yet the sword lay drawn,
We buried him under that oak tall and strong,

His respect has been earned,
Paid full in blood,
His gods bury their dead,
Commanding bodies be unburned,

Under that oak he lay unplundered,
Tall and strong, was the oldest oak,
“Coincidence he picked this ancient tree?” I wondered,
We sent him on his way, sword unsundered,

So Ode to you Soldier dead at dawn,
On your death we lay no claim,
May your gods catch your soul,
In your peaceful heavenly plane,

Toxic Healer

Reflecting wildly in reminiscent, eternal seconds,
I am not a bird or cat,
Cutting savagely in fractured minds,
Foolish I couldn’t see that,

I am an agitated growling beast,
Trying to help but tearing to shreds,
Treatment is a butchers surgery,
Selfish nature leaving me a feast,

Devilish smile in mask under slashing claw,
Yodeling certain sorrows that dawn wise learned woes,
Reciting what I see or once saw,
Growing flaws as nature flows,

Poison injected through playful bites,
Seconds too late, to mean no harm,
Temper short, I angrily try to help,
Chest tight in guilty grievance,

Envy for those who don’t feel,
Cold logic, calculated risks, emotions sealed,
I can’t help but try to heal,
Counting more hurt then helped,

Not my intention,
A point that is moot,
Facts lay in observed convection,
I truth I can’t refute,

Ever willing to learn,
To help heal and assist,
Breathe life that develops into a burn,
Over-focused there was always something I missed,

A just hell I feel their pain,
Caused by me or not,
I feel them scream, distressed,
So I take the shot,

Chastise and stare all you want,
One never knows when they are ready,
I try to grow steady,
At the end it’s me, my failures haunt,

Should I altogether stop?
I refuse to hate or abandon folk,
People trying to make it through their day,
Hearts guarded like seems of moccasins,

Maybe people shouldn’t come to me,
Sorry for the toxins,

The Scar due for Prep

Have you danced with darkness?
Minus, cliche bobble, pale moonlight?
No balance of step, nor vision of sight?
Have you danced with the darkness’ dastardly devils and devious demons?

Everyday divulging deep bleak colors contrasting societies soot lined shadows,
Showing shades of every face weary or strong that it makes you sick!
Fire in your iron lungs,
Pick! Who to burn next in your wanton web,

You yearn to see them torn and scream,
Sowing secret, sacred, scripts of suffering,
“Help me! I’m sorry friend!”
“Let me hug you, friend, and tend,” you’d pretend,

Even adopting a valued visage of light,
Easier to trap and less of a fight,
You think it makes you strong and gives you might,
You got cocky,

Was is greed that took the lead?
Perhaps phallus fueled foolishness,
An ego built pride where you rather would’ve died then had not tried,
Woe, my mental wars,

For I tried to eat a light,
I tried to eat her sight,
Her soul and absorb her might,
But my bite couldn’t swallow or chew,

Rampantly in anger I battled and battered,
Clinging to fleeing demons,
Bawdily bolting from the luminous light,
Till it was I, alone, in the fight,

Rage in every inch of me,
“Why does she look so calm? Don’t mock me! *******! F-U-U-C-K YOU!”
With fire in my eyes I glared,
Observing, she stared,

Then she asked me a question,
“What is wrong?”
My pride, my ego, my lust, my kingdom of slothful rust cried!
“Nothing!”

Then she gave me a glance,
Suddenly she was talking through my shadowy shields and swords,
To a side I had left, alone, long ago,
“What is wrong?”

Suddenly in silence I saw him,
On his knees, hands in black mist,
Me, no more then six, crying,
I wasn’t ******, or glad, or wrathful or mad,

“I’m sad!” I cried in emotional *****, heart sore,
Out of nowhere tears blitzed my face,
A foul feral weep I’d never heard before,
A symphony of suffering, I sowed galore,

How could I know?
That there was a sad little boy behind this ******?
Such a bitter and sweet gift to bestow,
Off to sleep sweet dancing darkness, it’s time for you to go,

A beginning of a journey for this new found soul,
Minus war of my mental mindscape,
Each step an accomplished goal,
Walking along the shallow banks of a warm peaceful shoal.

**** Toy

Cold, clad, silicone, scraggly straggling down the street,
Twisting, bending, folding to every person they meet,
Shift its face, smile, frown, cry or moan,
Not much bothers the man of silicone,

Wrestle jovially with it till your hearts content,
Till your ego satisfied, strokes your pride,
Small stains on silicone thighs,
It bends back into shape,

Down a crowded street it walks alone,
A friend to be used, whatever for,
Rolling with whatever’s in store,
It weeps alone, as it revs into a roar,

It guesses what it’s like to truly be alive,
Maybe not have to give,
But it has no bone or blood,
Manufactured, reflected social facets of false, foul virtues,

Able to spot a mask,
Complete any given task,
Its whole body is a mask, a tool,
It lives, but it is not alive,

Down a crowded street it walks alone,
End of the day draws near, hollow to the core,
White, bruised bled stains,
It weeps alone and it revs into a roar,

Its lover covers it in kisses,
“This is what it’s like to be in love.”
Its words hollow and pseudo as sin,
The silicone man knows not of authentic feeling,

Only fingered lust that stains synthetic skin,
It has programmed thoughts, cares and worries,
Confident none belong to it,
“What is an ‘I’?” Wailing for identity,

Other then a doll for use,
The **** toy doesn’t see abuse,
Only utilitarian ways to be,
Excuse after excuse not to see,

In misery,
Under guise of pain and woe,
It tries to be alive, confused,
Under god towed sky,

He screeches to the heavens,
“I am I!”
The sky calls back with a clap of angry thunder,
Down an empty street it walks alone,

Alone, alone, it can not desire or condone,
Not much bothers the man of silicone,
Synthetic, eyes, mouth, fingers and ******* sore,
It weeps alone and it revs into a roar...

The Two Halves of the Third Eye

There once was a man,
Who possessed a third eye,
One hundred men called him boss,
One nation called him king,

False plans, built with a lie,
Each loss a flagrant sting,
Social struts, wearily wail,

Beatin’ social berserkers bide,
Biding time to bestow billable babal,
Babal their own perspective truth,
For the mad king employs a social sleuth,

There once was a man,
Who too possessed a third eye,
No one called him boss,
Only of his mind was he king,

Baring witness to chaos,
Hundred men with varied tasks,
Constant change, masks, zero growth,

Prosperous peace is what he quoth,
No qualms from flawed quartz courts,
No screaming in petty squabbles for bill or buck,
Just peace via peace, with a little bit of luck,

A man with sight is always bright,
Closest friends tight,
With height he releases rage and any petty slight,
A man of no flag, field, forge nor foundry,

Opening eyes to let others see,
Hundred men create individual chaos,
Blinding all to divide and conquer,
Winding, twisting, and perverting truth,

Idyllic statues of justice fade and collapse,
More money to fuel the kings greedy relapse,
As long as their is another man with light,
With a sight for people, for people,

For all of the kings *****, ******, might,
People for people will never cease this fight.