No tear will fall to earth where we lay our final grave.
No history will tell the tale of a people just and brave.
And we will not resolve compassion with our casual consumption.
And we will have no time to reflect upon our anger and presumptions.

For when the end is in our sight we’ll do naught but close our eyes.
And when we hear of what they’ve done we’ll act as though surprised.
As they hold us to the barrel they will point and say, “look there”.
Before tired eyes and with weary minds are treats and tortures everywhere.

We concern ourselves with “p”s and “q”s. We worry loudly over words.
When true evil comes we’ll name it not. If we can’t speak it, it can’t be heard.
Shout destitution! Shout oppression! Shout ******! Shout ****!
Carpet others over. If none breathe, none will escape.

Our conscience we will cover in catchy slogans and perfumes.
We’ll be sheltered by our comforts, hiding in well-decorated rooms.
Making light of it casts light on things we seem to at once see and yet not see.
But each and every time the light is cast anew we cry, “this cannot be!”

We’ll spend ourselves on triviality. We’ll spend ourselves on skin.
We will not see the deadly spider thanks to the tangled web it spins.
Humanity’s death comes quickly, at the behest of it’s own bloodthirsty applause.
Through distraction we will ***** us out, without justice, and without cause.

How differently we wear our hate,
But how similar the fabric.
Through ages,
Across seas.

Voices call out different names,
But drip an equal venom,
This one purple,
That one green.

How much must be coated in filth
Before the state be declared entire?

Must no innocent inch remain?

It’s hazy. It’s yellow.
It spins and confuses.
It finds all the elements
Intellect uses.

It’s a smell.
It’s a memory.
It’s a comforting chill.
It’s a clever confusion
To wrap up our will.

It’s stagnant,
Yet vibrant.
It’s scathing,
Yet kind.
It’s the resources I’ve spent
To leave pain behind.

A massive abundance on a gentle breeze.
Oh, how the clouds seem to move with ease.
Smooth and certain across the sky.
A visual feast for a hungry eye.

Thick grey centres, with edges soft and unkempt.
Oh, to be in that world of which I’ve only dreamt.
To feel the cool wetness I imagine I’d feel
If I could break gravity, and be in the clouds for real.

Voices saying nothing.
Never stopping.
Maybe we’ll crash.
Maybe I’ll fly.

Music from nowhere
“I feel bad for her fiancée or whatever he is”
I know your face.
I’ve seen your insides.
Maybe I’ll fly.

Empty eyes.
Empty smile.
“Like no offence to her but she’s too shy”
Maybe we’ll crash.
Maybe I’ll fly.

Pounds to tons.
Routine to chaos.
Maybe we’ll die,
But maybe I’ll fly.

There are those who shout loudly for human rights,
But they’ve misplaced the bullseye for that fight.
Falsely believing that their sight is long,
But misaligned convictions can still be strong.

I hear the patter and clatter of clapping horse feet.
Tips of glue, carrying pounds of meat.
Transportation, labour, food, or tool.
An atrocity to fight for a hopeful fool.

To stop and think.
To feed and free.
Steps to take, though measuredly.

An occasional hit.
First one then another.
A way to cope,
With ourselves,
With each other.

An open dialogue on common ground.
A way to bring the temperature down.

But there’s no need to fuss,
And who ever wanted to be rude?

We all feel that we know what’s right,
But when we reflect we just might

Find that our actions
Aren’t always
In accord with our attitudes.

I feel the prickles on my skin, and the tingling in my spine.
I know that there’s a voice he hears, and I know it isn’t mine.
I temper my self-torture, for I know there are no stakes.
But I fear he likes the sounds that other women make.

I warm and bathe in worry. I feed my envy and it grows.
I boil and seethe over, and hope my anguish never shows.
I temper my reactions, for I fear imminent  mistakes.
When I see he likes the sounds that other women make.

I feel some sort of sadness, and feel compelled to make it hate.
I know these thoughts of mine are madness, but imagined wounds can’t be erased.
I clench, and my fists clutch, and I hope that my bones break,
So I’ll forget he likes the sounds that other women make.

I lose sight of my sanity, letting my fragile ego break.
I lament it might provoke in me my gravest faults to date.
I dwell and I obsess, and wonder how much I can take
When I face the fact he likes the sounds that other women make.

Do I wish to live among them?
Sometimes “yes”, most often “no”.
In that mix of grazers grazing,
Until they’re told it’s time to go.
Would I let them sheer me?
Feed me? Breed me?
In some other life,
Perhaps, who knows?
But terms like “trending topics”
Tend to wound my very soul.
And only rarely have I found another
Who can understand my goal.

But halt!

I fear that I can take no more,
My cup has already overflowed.

I am wilted. I am weary.
I am weathered. I am worn.
I am stuffed with seeping sadness, and stewed in sticky, seething scorn.

I am deflated. Thoughts debunked.
And I am drowned in desperate dread.  
When I soak my roots in water, I find it dries them out instead.

I am wilted. I am weary.
I am wilted. I am worn.

You may want to be the same
In thought and function,
Form and name,
But let me be diverse.

You may choose a path and hold it true,
And that may be what’s best for you,
But let me choose my course.

And when you feel the urge to fight,
Or prove your point
To prove you’re right
Pause to gaze upon the starry night,
And feel your true place in the universe.

A deafening bang. A blinding flash.
A tortured scream, then malicious laugh.

We are magic.
Are we are monsters?

Come here; compassion barely holds.
And without passion care is cold.
All love leads to sacrifice.
We have the virtue to chose our vice.

Are we magic?
Are we monsters?

There is conviction in the heart of man.
There is beauty in his eye.
But the sums of soft concerns sound loudly
To drown out harder crimes.

We are magic; we are monsters.

We tell our “truths”.
They paint our world.
We’re practiced.
We’re patient.
We’re porous.

We are magic. We are monsters.

Fumble, falter, fail to fight.
The dusk is here, relieved by night.

Doubting, dreading, doubling down.
A shadow takes the hardened ground.

Careful, costly, a cloud at night.
Just can’t seem to get my head right.

Open, owning, and owing to
A pillar of strength forged by two.

Critters crawling, comfort found.
Perhaps this thing just turned around.

Honest, honoured, hailed the fight.
Cannot seem to get my head right.

Ejected, dejected, deflated flat.
Whoever heard of a hero like that?

Awkward, agile, always aware.
Too many thoughts, but not one to spare.

Pointed, pictured, pursued the light.
But I can’t seem to get my head right.

The longest, driest drought could not truly parch my lands.
So nourished are they by your warm, rich waters.

The coldest, harshest winter could not **** the life in my burrows.
So heated are they by your soft, cozy down.

The deepest, darkest night could not deny my eyes sight.
So filled are they by your radiant light.

So though the surface is cracked, and bodies barely stir,
Though my hands must reach out to find their way.

Though hope is far in the distance, and perhaps only a mirage.
Though words may come slowly, and meaning is a scavenger hunt,

There is life below.
There is life within.
There is life, mine bound to yours.
We begin. We end. We begin.

Into the wild woods I’ll wander
To find the whimsy I seek.
I’ll jump right out at you!
Unless around you, I sneak.

Through the brambles and tangles
I’ll make my advances,
And try to decipher
Some flat, subtle glances.

When the smell of the season
Seeks to haunt my poor head,
And I know of no reason
To part from my bed.

When the images are stitched,
But somehow grow as a seed,
I’ll embrace the journey,
And get lost in the ****.

The reflections we saw,
Were they yours, ours, or mine?
Were I to unlock your eyes
Would they open up mine?

If I stayed awake forever
Could I feast on the moon?
Were I to aide your endeavour
Would you think it a boon?

When the truth lies beneath sludge
Under a murky, dark pond,
I’ll temper my grudge.
And try to move right along.

When life lights up too little
There’s a treatment I need,
With the ice and the water,
I’ll get lost in the ****.

Fingers into fontanelles.
Wordsmith weaves a weary spell.
A thought provoked to pluck and explore.
But have you ever thought before?

Ideas reflected time & again,
To philosophize or merely pretend.
Walking over & over through that same door.
And have you ever thought before?

I walk a level wire, and I take each step with care.
To the right a sea of rage, and left an ocean of despair.
If I fail to keep my balance I may never step again.
If I stumble, if I falter, then the fall may never end.

I keep a level head by pretending nothing’s there.
I focus on the moment, never guessing how I’ll fare.
If I’m fractured, torn and broken I may have no strength to mend.
So I walk the wire slowly. When I can’t smile I’ll pretend.

Though each step sinks deeply into flesh I cannot stop advancing.
Though some resolve may harden fast, every single time it’s glancing.
And when I watch the distance it seems the journey has no end.
So I walk the wire carefully. I hold my breath, then step again.

We set the example,
And accept the results.
At least until we can make it
Our enemies’ faults.

What’s bad for the goose
Is surely bad for the gander.
And Mother Earth cannot take
All the trash that we hand her.

Mother Nature, nervously,
Clears a dry throat.
Though many torments seem trivial
When held up to the boats.

A being so yielding,
Yet so easy to break.
Soul’s component so rare
It must be a mistake.

Here on the outside,
The inside seems gangrene.
And there’s no one
I’ve known
That knows
What I mean.

Absolve me of my temperament.
Absolve me of my tears.
Dissolve my personality,
My vast, expanding fears.

Absolve misguided sentiments.
Forgive each frustrated flow.
Leave me unnoticed and unfettered.
Unchained. At peace. Alone.

Resolve my intuition,
And forgive hypocrisy.
Absolve me of my unseen sins,
And free me of belief.

Absolve my broken promises.
Absolve my broken mind.
Forgive me for my cruelties,
And for all imagined crimes.

Absolve me of my selfish wounds.
Ignore those that are not.
Absolve me of my slumber,
And of all that I’ve forgot.

Absolve me of vexation.
Forgive me, part of whole.
Absolve me of the darkness
That now lurks within my soul.

What destruction to my soul!

What life removed!

What right have I to sit here and feel nothing?
What chance?

The point of horrors past and future horrors dodged give no more comfort than does vindication.

I would be wrong to make it right.

What chance I’ll reach the end?

I am torrential.
I am still.
I am a haven, and a killing field.

What chance I’ll reach the end?

I am hot ash.
I’m far too cold.
I’m tarnished; I cannot be gold.

I could be a souvenir, but am a memory best lost.
A thorn in every side.
A coin once clutched, but best if tossed.
A condemned amusement ride.

What chance I’ll reach the end?

I’m shaken till I shatter.
I’m numb until I mend.
Shake and shatter.
Shake and shatter.
Shake and shatter; numb again.

What right have I to sit here and feel nothing?

What right?

What choice?

What chance?

The rain pounds through everything.
The earth fills up.
Who would complain, refrain!
Reevaluate your luck.

Flesh melts and burns, it isn’t real,
But a future not so far off.
I see coiled springs, and reactive things,
And sick speculations rule my thoughts.

Gods help us all.

A devil drawls. A siren shrieks.
The masses spit and shout.
A dried up tear for who cannot speak.
No light can lead us out.

The story will not change,
And the ruler won’t relent.
Mere reluctance makes revolution not,
And all my thoughts are spent.

Gods help us all.

This strange soul calls to mine,
Alluring, fascinating, vexing.
This strange pull, as a rapid wind,
Somehow pushing, still pulling, and taxing.

Strange spirit speaks a foreign tongue.
I speak with no tongue at all.
I would give my soul, my heart, a lung
To stop its decay. Here leaves in fall.

Strange spirit presses soft, then firm.
My spirit falters often.
Strange spirit ever lives and learns,
Cradle, sky, to coffin.

With sunlight sparse, and the world dark
You shine golden and gorgeous. My spirit ascends.
The glittering glow of your brilliance touches me gently, and the long darkness ends.

When bitterness overwhelms me
I lose hope, reference, reverence, and appetite.
You are the sweetness in my mouth that dances on the tongue and makes it all right.

While there is no nourishment for body or soul,
You are the honey that fills my hive.
You see me through the long cold winter.
You sustain my vitality.
You keep me alive.

Into fog, and in a fugue,
We flee from the fire,
Or watch from a distance
As the flames grow higher.
Our sight is short.
Our wants are many.
But if we don’t compromise,
We won’t have any.

When we feel what it is
To truly need
Perhaps we’ll find the strength
To stave off greed.
Our priorities are muddled.
Our fears feed our fight.
We become befuddled,
And forget what’s right.

We’re damaged, victimized,
And we can’t look away.
We welcome comforting lies,
And what famous faces say.
And we can’t understand
Why they don’t see what we see,
As the others hold hands
And dance
On the grave of democracy.

A prickly and inflamed small creature slinks out of the sludge to see the world.
A broken body and broken mind spread out at rest, dark tendrils unfurled.

The shimmering lifts and causes light to leak into the soul.
A music box sounds off- filling space and time, achieving its goal.

Surrounded, still and silent.
At once tested, rested, then gone.
Impulses dark and violent.
Later scattered, tattered and drawn.

Brought to tears by nothing when everything is wrong.
Creaky, creaky, creature creeps.
I see it,
Then it’s gone.

I am the freak of nature
That nurture has shaped oblong.
I am the sum of high ideals
That turned out to all be wrong.

The sole of a shoe never worn,
But cast onto the midden heap.
Covered in filth it never trod upon
Receiving yields it did not reap.

And I have learned to be patient with death,
With its anticipation,
And with its effects.

The approach is fast,
The trickle slow.
Softly seeping down below.

A violent end.
A peace not past.
You, bending steel. Me, breaking glass.

What was dampened
Once, abruptly clears.
May fortune favour golden years.

A block of ice
Cannot endure.
At last, find footing firm and sure.

Now brilliant, shines
An endless sky.
Inspires distinction of truth from lie.

Elated! Joyful! Then dropped
A darkly veiled mask.
Ground is near, approaching fast.