Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
But its etiquette has not.
Then there's its religion, prevalent, instilled.
Farms tilled the way their grandfathers' tilled.
Castles in ruins, or castles renovated,
They want to preserve, or let themselves become jaded,
On the richer histories this country provides,
They create better legends to tell tourists, all lies
"Here's the old world", they cry.
And the economy, the people, the change,
They tie it all up until only a mock-up remains,
Rain has taken over my little world ..
Filled the void left for love within my fragile heart ..
Washed away many a good memory , left for naught ...
Belittled tall , hopeful Spring grass in a sea of doubt ..
Marred all thoughts of freedom from depressions grasp ..
Drawn a pallor of anguish and loathing across my dark day ..
Rendered my spirited trees to puppets fighting the stiff , stormy breeze .
Haunted my Van Gogh vision of day with voids of pitch , visions of pity..
Removed the silhouette of Oak tree and Moonlit nights , seized the brilliant starlight that I need in my life ..
Copyright March 3 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Illusion & hope
Drifting in the midst of a vast, open sea
Hearing whispers from shores unseen
Sustaining reality with pints of memory
Illusions which echo dishonesty

Speaking aimlessly
Awash upon currents which pull me around
Waves caress and waves smash
The hope of the hungry

A journey which has taken years out of me
Months of maybes
The flavour of a foreign currency
Audible illusions designed to fool me

Surely, the shore grows close
Yet, upon this raft I see not
Only water for miles yet
Or, perhaps this too is an illusion
One my own mind has set
someday I will see things for what they really are
the essence
the outside of everything.
past the tears and smiles and blushing and winks
and words and laughs and yells and snorts
the meaning of what goes on outside the self.
the world beyond the mind.

someday I will know the truth
masks peeling off
facades crumbling
reality as it is. reality of the real.

who are you? what am I?
a thought? a dream? something in between?
a truth? a lie?
can it be known at all?

someday.
one day.
when I cross the line.
to world outside the mind.
 Mar 2016 Ariel Baptista
Sin
Maroon
 Mar 2016 Ariel Baptista
Sin
I have always been drawn to destruction;
air too thin to breathe-
I carry a pain eyes can't receive.

life and evil are only a letter apart,
and I've come to believe
this was no mistake;

the devil wears sweatpants and a rosary.

he weaves his fingers
through yours tightly
every time he holds you down-

and he shines-
stolen halos line red wrists,
they bang against the drywall-
its four in the morning
and he's come into the room again-
he forever invites himself in

maybe this time God will hear the ringing,
clinging together,
the halos,
the angels
will flee to ****** back
their innocence.
brilliance.

and the motion will cease.
the clouds, close.

claiming "possession"
is out of the question
for he did not seize my soul-
I extracted it, split my skull
all for a taste of the afterlife.

he loves mirrors and other pathways
of reflection;
the evil only seem to love themselves.

I am used to blinding confusion
and bittersweet illusions,
I crave the burn that follows pain.

he likes to leave a mark
beyond scarring the skin,
but I promise,
the worst is within-

life and death are only a day apart
and I've come to believe
I am stuck in between,
and the devil continues,
blissful and free.
Next page