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1.7k · Aug 2015
The Rich Man
Daniel Ospina Aug 2015
There goes the rich man walking down the street
With a godly gait and patronizing eyes.
He’s running late for a massage to his feet,
Exhausted from gobbling all what money can buy.

Do not dare invade his personal space;
We’re not worthy to reside in his presence.
If you must speak, do so with great haste,
For his time is precious and of the essence.

Come and marvel at his opulent mansion!
Gather around; bear witness to such glory!
Let’s praise and worship his lavish fashion!
Better befriend him or you’ll be sorry.

But surely when his gold mine runs bone dry,
He will fall into oblivion, left alone to cry.
1.6k · Mar 2016
The Man of Sycamore Keep
Daniel Ospina Mar 2016
Fountain of youth runs in his veins,
The man who lives in Sycamore Keep.
His circadian clock had come to a halt,
Rather than rejoice, he sullenly weeps.
You would think that immortality is
The pinnacle of human existence,
All the time in the world and not a
Single malady to be of any resistance.
Yet there he sulks, the ageless man,
Cauterized by the turn of each century,
As loved ones breathe their last and
Become a parcel of his fractured memory.
But that is just the shell of his woes,
For even with all knowledge amassed,
He’s utterly aghast with the state of the
World unwilling to learn from the past.
Every crook and cranny explored,
Every experience well savored,
Now monotony for millennia to come,
His longing to live has ebbed and wavered.  
I was told by the man of Sycamore Keep
That immortality is a curse so alluring.
Indeed, a hundred cultivated years is
Much better than hollow eons securing.
But sir, think of all the riches you’ve accrued
And mastery of all science and philosophies.
Who wouldn’t want to have the time to mark
The world and purge it from all its atrocities.
Say no more, interrupted the ageless man,
I applaud your idealism and optimistic delusion,
But you’re missing one essential element --
Even as immortals, we’d still be only human.
And to be human, is to be fallible. Let’s just say
That immortal fallibility will engender no good.
It'd be best to truncate our lifespan for the
Sake of our survival, yes truncate we should.  
And that’s all I heard from the man of Sycamore Keep,
Who went on his way to his millennial weep.
1.3k · Nov 2015
White Rose
Daniel Ospina Nov 2015
The lone white rose lies on the cobbled road,
Tossed aside by unrequited love.
It once stood proud in the field basking in the sun,
Certain it was born to charm and dazzle.
You’re magnificent they said…
A special rose you are, crafted by divine hands.
Its enchanting beauty was a sight to behold,
Even kings waged wars to claim it.
Unbeknownst its grim destiny
To be trampled by its admirers
As they gather around to exalt the new vogue,
The red rose alive with passion
Breeding forbidden thoughts and fantasies.
You’re magnificent they said…
Now you’re forgotten.
1.2k · Jan 2016
Pendulum Swings
Daniel Ospina Jan 2016
Pendulum swings, beckoning time
To move along and forget.
But it can’t.
It likes to linger in the green
Meadows where butterflies
Sip on sweet nectar while
Children play hide and seek
Among the tall trees.
Pendulum swings, yet time
Ignores it at the shores when
Waves and sun hold hands and
Conceive warm hues bathing
The couple immersed in love
Which spans an eternity.
Pendulum swings, but time
Sleeps at the campfire
Crackling, cackling at the
Jokes told by the witty
Grandfather who has
Seen it all, done it all.
Pendulum swings, coaxing
Time to be on its way.
But it can’t.
It’s unable to let go of those
Treasured, magical moments
Etched in the fabrics of the
Universe, painting all existence.
1.1k · May 2016
Daniel Ospina May 2016
There is a day when dreams are
Exiled, left to waste away --
The dry sands of tomorrow.
Magnificent dreams,
Too daring, ambitious, demanding,
Cast aside, in hopes that they’ll
Flourish on their own.
We’ll dream once more…

There is a day when opportunities
Are swallowed by the tides,
And sink to fathomless trenches
Never to be seen again,
For there might be another one…

There is a day when unspoken words
With the potential to change a life sit
In one’s tongue, embittering over time,
Since someone else will speak them…

There is a day when the Earth will perish
By exploitive and negligent hands.
We were all aware of what was to come,
So let us amend our ways...

Somethings simply just cannot wait.
Perhaps tomorrow is a day too late.
1.1k · Oct 2015
Time's Curse
Daniel Ospina Oct 2015
Oh, Time, you are my mortal enemy.
Woe to those who wallow in your foul play.
Like a monarch ruling one’s sanity,
You dictate my every move night and day.

From your iron shackles release me now,
A ***** to the drudgery of routine.
For when a youth to you I did not bow,
Coming of age entails pain unforeseen.

Family forsaken as work prevails.
Rest is absent amid hectic duties.
Allocation of your daily wage derails
Your subjects from life's priorities.

Perhaps when I’m senile I’ll smile.
But for now, I will mourn all the while.
1.0k · Nov 2015
Lake Midnight
Daniel Ospina Nov 2015
Come and wade with me in Lake Midnight,
Where fireflies join the stars,
Twinkling and glowing yellow warm light,
A swirl of reverie from afar.

Come be one with the water, still and sweet.
We are special guests here
To a concert of crickets, love songs they sing,
Which only you and I can hear.

Come dance with me among moon beams
Illuminating Lake Midnight.
Nature knows us very well, it seems,
Binding our hearts ever so tight.

Come and swim beneath the wild willows,
Watching our bodies become tangled
As we play with the midnight minnows,
Our laughter at a wrangle.

Come to Lake Midnight, where love is reborn,
Amends all that is torn, and makes new what is worn.
1.0k · Feb 2016
Moon's Song
Daniel Ospina Feb 2016
Night falls.
It’s time for a conversation with the moon.
Its reflection upon the silky pond.
Crescent smile beams for me.
Hoot, hoot goes the owl perched up high,
Letting me know that I’m not alone,
For shadows watch me, a curiosity.
Deep into the forest, to man unknown,
I speak with the moon.
Today I brought tears for it to drink,
As they drop onto the water, sending
Ripples of emotion.
I want the moon to tell me who I am.
It’s been here for eons, surely it must know.
Sometimes silence speaks the loudest,
The moon told me.
It said to listen, and listen closely.
At first all I heard was the forest’s
Harmony of critters and swaying trees.
But then I heard it.
I heard the cooing of my mother
As she cradled me in her arms.
I heard my father’s proud pat on my back.
I heard the adulation of my peers.
But then a dark cloud blocked the
Crescent smile before me.
I then heard the demon within me.
I heard it call me for who I was.
A luscious red apple with a rotten core.
A man with a filthy secret
A man afraid of what awaits him.
A man disgusted of what he’s become.
The dark cloud went on its way,
Crescent smile came to my rescue,
For I heard hope.
What does hope sound like?
Well, it’s the laughter of a friend
Who accepts you for who you are.
It’s the rooster’s crow signaling
A new tomorrow rising with the sun.
The crescent smile beamed once again.
I’ve found myself with the moon’s song.
Daniel Ospina Aug 2015
Humans -- what a pitiful, parasitic species
That has infected this planet like a
Greedy, virulent virus consuming everything
In its path with no remorse, no reservations.
All humans have a rotten core oozing toxic
Sentiments that engender chaos and destruction.
I’m surrounded by hypocrites with no
Knowledge of the word altruism, blinded by
Their oversized egos and insatiable appetites
For superficial and fleeting pleasures.
There is no hope for remedy; progress is an illusion,
Where the only certainty is our imminent extinction.
Civilization was a mistake. We were better off as cavemen.  
Humans ask me if I hate humanity so much,
Why haven’t I killed myself already?
****** humans.
Humans suggest that rather than lament,
I should be the light amid the gloom.
****** humans.
I'm allergic to futility.
981 · Aug 2015
The Story of Humanity
Daniel Ospina Aug 2015
As the crowd engulfed me, I couldn’t help but
Scrutinize each person who brushed my side.
Each face unique which tells a distinct story.
Each story with its own plot, climaxes, and resolutions.
Each soul harboring its own worries and ambitions.
I’m overwhelmed by the vastness of the ocean I’m in,
A single fish among multitudes of all shapes and vibrant colors.
My story is merely a page among billions that comprise
The Story of Humanity.
A collection of individual histories that has propelled,
In one way or another, our species.
Every tear, drop of sweat, and ounce of effort
Has fueled the fire that blazes within us.
The Story of Humanity--
Bound by threads of fate,
Inked with blood of the fallen,
Soaked with ardent passions and desires,
Authored by love.
977 · Dec 2015
Daniel Ospina Dec 2015
Winter’s fingerprints
Dance as spirit crystals to
The tune of laughter.
970 · Aug 2015
Eye of the Hurricane
Daniel Ospina Aug 2015
Why is it that whenever there’s tranquility,
It’s because I’m in the eye of a hurricane?
I feign a smile and display great tenacity
Although my heart is throbbing with pain.
Don’t call me pessimistic; I just know the truth,
A daunting truth that haunts my every dream.
We were born to suffer, and these scars are proof
That one’s character is the spawn of screams.
But here I stand upright with iron valor
Calling out to the ruthless storms of life,
That my resolve will remain unshattered
As I make my way up the summit of strife.
The eye of the hurricane is always watching,
Wondering when we will faint and cower.
Let us show the storm that we are unflinching,
That together we wield raw power.
For in numbers we grow stronger
As our hearts beat for a common cause.
In harmony our shouts are louder,
Transcending all oppression and laws
Which bind you and I to a morbid lie
That peace will never come
And forever we’ll be trapped in the eye
Of the hurricane, always on the run.
967 · Oct 2015
Parallel Universe
Daniel Ospina Oct 2015
How astounding would it be
If there were infinite copies of me?
In one universe I’d be a loquacious politician,
While in another, a reclusive mathematician.
So many possibilities, so many paths to take;
One decision can alter the course of my fate.

Have you ever wondered how life would’ve changed
If you hadn’t overslept and had your day rearranged?
Or that time when you had the choice to make that trip
But opted not because your grandmother was sick?
Would you have met the love of your life?
Or be mauled by a bear during your hike?
You could’ve been inspired to pursue another career…
How baffling that a single choice has the power to steer
Your life in distinct directions,
Making more and more connections.

A network of probability with no limitations, with no bounds --
It’s a mystery of how that choice could’ve turned your life around.  
Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve are merely illusions,
Seize the day, or you’ll be caught up in delusions.
Maybe it’s consoling to believe
That another you had the courage to dream.  

But surely it doesn’t have to be that way.
This reality is yours to form, where only you have a say.
942 · Feb 2016
Daniel Ospina Feb 2016
Come aboard tamed sheep.
Let us ride the bandwagon
Towards the high cliff!
922 · Nov 2015
First World Problems
Daniel Ospina Nov 2015
Oh the horror, the horror!
My closet is full, yet I have nothing to wear.
I’m slipping into madness with the burden
To decide between medium well and rare.
If there’s another commercial I’ll surely die;
Can you pass me the remote with my fries?
WHAT! They’re not warm and crispy!
I can’t eat this…it’s too risky.
The show is over, now I have nothing to do,
I guess I’ll lament in the game room.
My life is in shambles; it’s falling apart,
I won’t be able to afford all the items in my cart:
Out goes the Apple earbuds, I’d rather have Beats,
Do I really need another pair of Gucci earrings?  
Sorry, memory foam mattress, you’ll have to wait,
Soon I have to make the hardest decision ever made:
Hulu, Netflix, or HBO on demand,
One I’ll have to sacrifice.
I wish you would understand
The misfortune that is my life.
You tell me to be grateful with all my bounty,
But clearly you are blind to my abject poverty.
911 · Jan 2016
The Painting on the Wall
Daniel Ospina Jan 2016
I wandered around my grandparents'
Home and saw the forbidden door ajar.
Although locked, they told me to steer
Clear, one step in was one step too far.
The room was gloomy, draped in webs,
With a single painting on the wall,
Lighted by a flickering bulb, imploring
Me to flee from the painting’s call.
She looks at me with longing eyes,
The girl in the painting on the wall.
Alive she seems on her swing, legs
Dangling, holding a torn ragged doll.
She’s not alone, children frolic around
Her beside the lake and wild grass.
Yet she swings gazing intently at my
Soul, willing me to touch the frame glass.
My hands obey and reach for her world
And I find myself pulled inside.
I stood before the girl. Hey friend,
I’m Sally, she said, and smiled wide.  
We swam in the lake, played tag, and
Enjoyed a picnic, but the sun never sank.
Minutes rolled to hours and hours, days.
Indeed, time was merely a divine prank.
What’s your name? I would ask the other
Children, but none of them knew.
I’d ask where they came from,
But mumbles they’d only spew.
Sally I must go home! Please help me!
Don’t you like it here? We are friends.
Friends don’t leave, you understand?
Those who come, their stay never ends.
Her smile then twists to a fiendish grin
Revealing jagged, rotten yellow fangs.
Sally giveth, Sally taketh away, Sally
Stole my heart today
, the children sang.
Wherever I ran, I’d end up at the same place,
Sally on her swing beneath the oak tree.
She then waved at the glassy blue sky.
My grandparents looked down upon us
With wicked smiles and laughing eyes.
You’ve been a naughty boy, Paul.
Now you’re in the painting on the wall.
893 · Jun 2016
The Game
Daniel Ospina Jun 2016
Pawns of a game, a guessing game, a game
Where chance rules supreme.
Dice roll with stardust, driven by cosmic winds,
with whim at the bow and wheel is its own entity.    
Everyone seeking cheap tricks, but to no avail, only
To walk a common road, traversed by paupers and kings.
How to win the game? Well, winners and losers are
Indistinguishable, like grains of sand to the ***** eye.
Deceiving shadows loom about the playground.
What can be a rabid monster shredding flesh
Might as well be a mouse nibbling on stray kernels.  
There are no rules, despite the libraries of doctrine
And laws of man which change with the season,
Reflecting the customs of various regions.
Players argue at the round table as to what the
Objective may be.
Perhaps survival of the fittest?
To harbor joy while making a pittance?
To love wholeheartedly, for good riddance?
One thing’s for certain.
The game will end, some way or another.
Let’s have the thrill of our lives, while it lasts.
Let’s entertain the impossible before we pass.
878 · Dec 2015
Mr. Stone's Gift
Daniel Ospina Dec 2015
In a chilled morning of Christmas Eve,
Among the bells and carols there was a groan.
Disgusted by smiles, revolted by fun,
If grouchy were a person, it’d be Mr. Stone.
An accountant for three decades,
Joy was drained from his now frigid heart.
He’d take a stroll every day at sunrise,
Numbering the days until his soul departs.
Senseless ruckus, remarked Mr. Stone,
As he walked along the crowded London street,
A season without reason, only mindless
Splurging, incurring debt and wealth deplete.
Hey there sir, want some candy canes?
Asked a little boy, they’re only one crown.
Mr. Stone leaned in with pursed lips,
Too expensive, boy, you ought to settle down.
Sorry sir, it’s just I have nothing to eat.  
Would you be so kind and lend me a hand?
Hmmm… I’d rather not, I despise sweets,
I’m more in the mood for something bland.
With that Mr. Stone continued his walk,
Traversing through an abandoned back alley.
It was dark and musty, infested with rats,
The perfect place for all his woes to tally.
However, a baby’s cry caught his attention
Which was coming from a dumpster nearby.
Mr. Stone approached the source of the cry,
And behold a baby wrapped in rags there lied.
Oh my, how can this be? Who’d do such a thing?
He took the baby into his arms covered in filth,
Astounded by her mesmerizing emerald eyes
And skin with a hue like that of creamy milk.
The baby hushed the second he held her
And gazed upon the eyes of Mr. Stone.
He felt his mind invaded and thoughts probed,
An electrifying sensation bone by bone.  
Suddenly he found himself at his childhood home,
Sitting at the dinner table with his mother.
You’re going to eat your vegetables, William,
If only you’d be more like your older brother.
He was then whisked to his school yard,
Pushed around by his ruthless peers.
You’re so weird and ****, William Stone,
You deserve a nice clout to your ears.
Now he’s in a field of snow and ***** trees.
William, come make snow angels with me,
Said a girl with mesmerizing emerald eyes.
I’m coming Eve, he answered gleefully.
They laughed and played until sunset.
William, promise me we’ll always be together.
Of course, he assured her, together forever.
He closed his eyes, and he was standing beside
A casket, Eve resting in a bed of white roses.
I thought we’d be together forever.
Her parting was unbearable and corrosive.
Mr. Stone now stood with the baby girl,
Tears rolling down his reddened cheeks.
I thought we’d be together forever.
I’ve found you, Eve. You’re mine to keep.
872 · Dec 2015
Animal Talk
Daniel Ospina Dec 2015
That Elephant needs to shed some pounds
Said the Hippo to the Giraffe.  
You’re right, and abnormally tall, indeed.    
Did you hear that it bathes in mud?
Interjected the Bullfrog while savoring a fly,
What an absolute disgust.
I hear you,
Elephants these days lack class, incredible…
Exclaimed the Hippo as gas bubbles suddenly
Formed in the murky water behind it.
Funny thing is, despite its staggering size,
I hear it flinches at the mere sight of its shadow!
The trio burst with laughter, but was cut short
With a slight rustle of nearby grass.
The trio fled for their lives.
A tiny field mouse emerged, amused,
865 · Jan 2016
The Heart
Daniel Ospina Jan 2016
Pumps life only to
Be blamed for the brain’s mistakes
And take a beating.
861 · Apr 2016
My Soul's Keeper
Daniel Ospina Apr 2016
I’ll be ready with the palm leaves
Upon your return.
I’ll lay them at your feet as you grace
Me with your presence.
Crowds will form and chant your name,
For they know that joy has arrived.
Countless hours staring out the window;
I have memorized the stains on the glass
And made friends with the spider on her web.
If only I had a web of my own to keep you
Adhered to my side.
You said it wouldn’t be long.
You lied.
Memories sustain me.
Hope contains me.
Who do you think you are,
Toying with my sanity?
Ah, my soul’s keeper,
My grim reaper.
847 · Oct 2015
Serenity Spring
Daniel Ospina Oct 2015
There’s such a thing, the Serenity Spring,
The cradle of all beauty.
Abode of light,
A haven from blight,
A place to pour out your worry.
The gentle waters, pristine,
Will make the filthiest soul clean;
Reflections reveal the truth, however ****.
Simply let yourself be submerged
As your stains are rinsed and purged.
Float on your back and take in the green,
As rays of light create silhouettes of leaves.
Take a deep breath and inhale the smell
Of white lilies whose secrets you mustn’t tell.
A choir of birds sing a delightful melody
That melts all sorrow and agony.
Welcome, they sing, to the Serenity Spring
Where we’ll wash your anguish away.
When in your darkest hour,
Just close your eyes,
Delve deep into your mind,
Let your thoughts unwind,
And in this paradise you’ll be laid.
840 · Jul 2016
Daniel Ospina Jul 2016
She twists and turns under sheets and covers.
Sleep evades her as fire burns her cold skin.
Darkness shrouds like tapestries of terror
Warding off consoling light –
“Let me in… let me in.”
Boards creak and nails scratch the walls
Inching its way towards its fidgeting prey.
A monstrosity stands before her eying the
Trembling body –    
“Let me play…let me play.”
It leans forward to her ear and whispers,
“I know what you’ve done, what a shame,”
Its serpentine tongue licks her cheek.
“I thought you were better, free from blame.
But you’re like the rest, foul and unclean,
A lump of mass and unfit to live.
Unworthy of redemption, so obscene –  
Let me give… let me give.”
Sobs erupt from her quivering lips and gasps
For air from the weight of her filthy sin.
It caressed her hair with its skeletal, scaly
Hands, and kindly asked to
“Let me win… let me win.”
But a streak of light from the rising morning
Sun sent Guilt back into the dark.
A new day, a new beginning, an
Opportunity for a fresh start.
But from the depths of what has been,
There it waits for you to
*Let it in… let it in
797 · Jan 2017
Golden Trumpet
Daniel Ospina Jan 2017
There comes the golden trumpet
With its boorish tune.
It claims that brimstone is falling
From the heavens, threatening
To mar all that is pure and white.
All are spellbound by his ***** words
Stripped from the usual ethereal facade.
Promise of prosperity rings in their ears,
Since the land of milk and honey has run dry.
But wait…
Look at the hunger in his eyes,
A fervent **** for power and glory.
Look at his thin skin, orange and tempered,
Burning like coal in a blazing furnace.
Look at the cohort he assembled,
******* swine from the swamp.
Surely, he has the mob in mind.
Throw chocolate to keep them quiet.
Put on a show to divert attention.
For the truth is glaringly clear,
We have been played for fools.

When the smoke subsides…
A repentant dog with its tail between its legs, ears back, comes out of the rubble.
781 · Mar 2016
Devil's Dove
Daniel Ospina Mar 2016
Hold my hand, dear beloved.
Although a morsel of imagination,
One day our paths will cross.

Illicit love, devil's dove

Stars will align to signal the
Apocalypse, unfurling
When our flowers bear fruit

Some say you’re a fairytale,
But I sense your presence,
Like the meerkat tasting the
Rain hours before it falls.
Take cover, for the storm will
Rage and thunder clap
As our fingers interlock.

Illicit love, devil's dove

One-way ticket to brimstone lake.
Is this the price of happiness?
Sacrifice bliss for man’s nod?
Shall I rot alone for purity’s sake?
Together, we’ll rewrite man’s laws
And the pearly gates will swing open,
For paradise lies in you and I,
An eternity tucked in your embrace.

Illicit love, devil's dove

Meanwhile, I’m well aware,
That in my den forever forbear,
My eyes will never meet
My dear beloved of my sleep.
775 · Oct 2015
The Choice
Daniel Ospina Oct 2015
I’m falling
Down the abyss of dementia.
Caressed by darkness.
Entranced by silence’s lullaby.
Sing me the song of melancholy.
Play me the tune of self-loathing.
I want to dance to the beat of regret,
An eternal replay of past mistakes.
Leave me be! My tongue yearns to lick
The wounds that adorn my decaying body.
Let me swim in my beloved salty
Lake of tears,
A cistern polluted by haunting memories.
I’m surrounded by multitudes, yet
I’m utterly alone.
Or am I?
What is that you say?
The key to my chains has been in my pocket
All along?!
You’re telling me the pain will mollify
Once I remove my hand from the fire?!
What a brilliant proposition.
I’m the captain of my own ship, and it will
Sail to wherever my heart lies.
771 · May 2015
The Answer Lies in Twilight
Daniel Ospina May 2015
Time is a witness -- night and day don’t get along.
Immiscible like water and oil.
Either you are black, white, or don’t belong,
A dandelion drowning in a sea of soil.

There’s always an ultimatum, a dichotomy,  
A ****** war of who's wrong or right.
Discord reigns supreme with sole autonomy,
When, in fact, the answer lies in twilight.

There is no such thing as absolutes
In a world as rich and diverse as this one.
It takes wisdom to know what constitutes
A solution to the question of who won?

The answer is not black, nor white, but gray,
A compromise where both sides have a say.
760 · Mar 2016
Moonlight Musings
Daniel Ospina Mar 2016
Silent hill casts a shadow on the moon,
Even beauty has a dark side.
Pale face aloft in freckled night
Feeds me with random musings
As I meander along the quiet pasture.
Excavate the fertile earth and
There you’ll find sterile treasures
Outliving all that’s alive.
I stumble on my clumsiness and taste
The dirt on my tongue.
Strange how life’s ambrosia is so
Distasteful to its offspring.
Just like love, a cloying sweetness
That turns bitter over time, and
When it’s gone, an aftertaste dwells.
Still on the ground, I roll over to look
Upon the freckled night sky.
Fascinating how constellations
Are merely imposed order
On senseless disorder.
I bet the stars laugh at our attempt
To find reason where there is none.
And then there’s the moon,
Indiscriminately shining on even
The foulest of creatures, underserving
Of its generous light,
Although without the sun, it’d just
Be a tenebrous chunk of rock.
Alone, we’d be just as unglamorous.
740 · May 2016
I Sink
Daniel Ospina May 2016
Water seeping through the cracks of the hull,
Creeping ever so insidiously.
Filling the voids, but my fate is sealed.
I sink.
Resentment floods my thoughts,
Quenching my thirst for vindication,
And I feel that time will cure all, yet…
I sink.
I’m clinging on to flotsam and jetsam
Drifting by, remnants of my pride.
But the waves keep battering, and
I sink.
Seventy times seven is too large of a
Number, or so I think.
How to rid of the anchor tethered to
My heel?
I sink.
Letting go of that anchor, a painful process.
You may have skinned me alive,
But I forgive you.
For if I don’t, I’ll sink to the depths
Of misery…. alone.
734 · Sep 2015
The Voyage
Daniel Ospina Sep 2015
There’s a saying that ignorance is bliss,
Yet philosophers tell us otherwise:
Beyond our consciousness there exists
An absolute truth no one can deny.

The wise insist that we live in caves,
Our reality a projection of shadows
And that nothing but the truth can save
Us from becoming a herd of cattle.

Thus, we allow the enlightened to reign
So that we may be led to a path of light.
No doubt their judgement can tame
Our oh-so inferior state of mind.

Sheep we’ve become to another pastor,
Each preaching their own perceived truths,
When we should be our own masters,
Refusing to be rendered mute.

Let’s embark on our own life-long voyage,
A thrilling quest to find ourselves.
To conform is to accept *******.
To dream is to rebel.
731 · Nov 2015
War of the Lefts and Rights
Daniel Ospina Nov 2015
There were once Lands of Right and Left
Where mutual loathing brought bloodshed.
They disagreed on numerous things
Such as which hand one should use to eat,
Which leg one should start with to walk,
Or which hand one should raise to talk.
There was literally no time for consensus
Since the clocks ran in opposite directions.

But one fateful day, all **** broke loose
When the Baron of Right made his own noose
By shaking the right hand of the Baron of Left,
Wreaking havoc with such unforgivable offense.
How dare you defy us with such heinous mockery,
We’ll pour our wrath for defiling our sanctity.
It was then that blood began to rain outside,
Where a red river scourged the streets, claiming lives.

Cries for peace were drowned by thunder,
Egos were too hurt to excuse the blunders.
If only, if only there were ears to listen.
If only, if only there were eyes for vision.
But when tongues have the power and run amok,
Not reined by reason and empathy locked,
Surely nothing good will come about,
Only disunity and violence shall sprout.
716 · Oct 2015
Daniel Ospina Oct 2015
Hair gray, glistening with wisdom.
Wrinkles carved by life’s ordeals.
Eyes blinded by decades of vigilance.
Ears failing from listening to our distress.
Hands shaking, frail from lifting spirits.
Legs aching for always leading the way.
Throat sore from hours of discourse.
Back curved, encumbered by our worries.
Heart swollen with unconditional love.
675 · Aug 2015
Court of Validation
Daniel Ospina Aug 2015
Settle down, the court is in session,
The esteemed Court of Validation,
Where I stand trial for being
And thus must attend this hearing
To seek the sublime opinions
Of the wise Jury of Champions
Who've been there done that.
Please lecture me on how to act,
Tell me how I must dress,
What to say under duress,
To brandish my success,
And my worth attest
To finally be accepted among civilization
With a stamp of approval from the Court of Validation.
Here comes the verdict for the Judge to read.
I'm guilty of possessing an identity.
Therefore I'm sentenced to a lifetime of conformity
To the status quo established by society.
But Your Honor, there must be a mistake!
There has to be another path to take.
Sorry child, this is the only way,
Or else you'd be imprisoned in the Cell of Dismay.
Embrace your fate without hesitation;
Indeed it's a gift from the Court of Validation.
661 · Mar 2016
Daniel Ospina Mar 2016
Victory pose upon the mountain top
Where eagles soar at your level.
Arms extended as you let the wind
Celebrate your ascent to greatness.
The climb, treacherous,
But ultimately rewarding.
Take in the panoramic view of
The world splayed before you,
Far as the eye can see.
All of its secrets revealed.
Vast oceans to your left,
Rolling hills to your right,
The tundra left behind.
The sun, humbled by your presence,
Hides in the hills, orange and bashful.
Victory, oh sweet victory.
There’s nothing left to conquer.
Now what?
653 · Sep 2015
Daniel Ospina Sep 2015
His fingers tap dance on the wooden table
As thoughts scramble within his mind.
His eyes are fixed to the bare wall, perchance,
A divine message will be transcribed.
Misfortune has pestered him for quite a while,
Out of all people it is he who must weep.
He demands an explanation to the misery
That deprives him of most wanted sleep.
But behold, a silver quill takes form before him
And hovers to the bare wall across the room.
With swift strokes it writes with moonlight ink
One ambiguous four-letter word: SOON…
The man almost falls from his chair, all color
Flushed from his weathered face.
What’s the meaning of this sorcery?
What is this “SOON” that awaits?
Will my troubles finally leave me?
Will there be no more sleepless nights?
Or will I soon meet my maker
Who will compensate for my bitter, bitter life?
Shouts interrupt his inquiry followed by
The sound of shattered glass.
The man looks out the window to investigate,
Indeed there's a raging riot amid dense tear gas.
The smell of smoke meet his nostrils, and he
Realized his humble home has caught on fire!
This cannot be! The man exclaimed to the heavens,
Just when there’s hope, the flames climb higher!
He fled from his home, his last possession now a pile
Of ashes, the memories inside consumed and forgotten.
Watching in horror as chaos envelops him, the man’s
Knees buckle, laying on the ground defeated and broken.
Are you okay? asks a little girl, her hand on his shoulder.
The man turns to the silver haired girl and is taken aback
By her angelic visage, which instantly melts his anguish,
Filling the void with the peace and hope he lacked.
His eyelids become heavy and falls into a deep slumber.
He awoke in a hospital bed a few days later,
Greeted by the doctor and a company of lawyers.
Sir, we found something very peculiar among the ashes
Of your home, a chest abound with silver coins and a note.
The man took the note which had one word in moonlight ink,
A word so alien to the man, the word was: BELIEVE
648 · Jun 2015
Ode to Haters
Daniel Ospina Jun 2015
Get off your lofty pedestal.
He who is without sin,
Cast the first stone!
Your self- righteous ego
Reeks like rotten eggs.
Hope you stumble on your
Own bear traps.
Looking for flaws?
Use a mirror,
Not a telescope.
You exist to point fingers.
One of these days they will
Snap like a twig.
I’ll make sure of that.
644 · Mar 2016
Dust If You Must
Daniel Ospina Mar 2016
Dust if you must, but wouldn't it be better,
To paint a picture or write a letter,
Bake a cake or plant a seed,
Ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must, but there's not much time,
With rivers to swim and mountains to climb,
Music to hear and books to read,
Friends to cherish and life to lead.

Dust if you must, but the world's out there
With the sun in your eyes, the wind in your hair,
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain.
This day will not come 'round again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it's not always kind.
And when you go and go you must,
You, yourself, will make more dust.
Not mine. Found this in my Facebook newsfeed. Had to share.
630 · Apr 2016
The Rain Knows Better
Daniel Ospina Apr 2016
Some take cover from the rain,
But I know better.
I let it cleanse my
Grime-encrusted skin,
Layers upon layers of sin.  
I’ve tried to occult my faults,
But the rain knows better,
For it penetrates my guise with
Surprising ease, disarming me.
Bare skin exposed and I quiver
As eyes examine every sliver
Of who I am.
Soaked body with nature’s balm
Glistens when a ray of sunlight
Splits the gray clouds, as if
Assuring me redemption.
Some retreat when gray clouds approach,
But I know better.
My character, tempest-tossed,
Scintillates when the sun comes out.
628 · Dec 2015
The Living Canvas
Daniel Ospina Dec 2015
The drip of water down the water spout
The parade of white fluffs drifting about
The ball of the pen skating across
The flow of ink calling the shots
The clack of heels on the tiled hall
The scurrying of a roach up the wall
The wail of a child sickened by chocolate
The scowl of the mother for such racket
The round of applause after a performance
The snores of the old couple sitting dormant
The ruffling of pages in a quiet library
The thundering chew of a red cranberry
The mourning of a family huddled at a wake
The birthday song sung as he blows on the cake
The flap of nestling wings on its first attempt
The hawk’s call during a sweeping steep descent
The pulsating green beep of heart monitors
The screech that follows when the beat falters
The smooch of lips upon an orange sunset
The ring of wedding bells they'll never forget
The Earth a rich and colorful place
The Earth a blue speck floating in space
624 · Jun 2015
Daniel Ospina Jun 2015
I stare into the mirror.
What do I see?
A sack of flesh and bone
Powered by fear of death.
I lean in to examine my face.
What do I see?
A glittering mask ******* on by
The expectations of spectators.
I peer into the depths of my eyes.
What do I see?
My soul fading after each tick of the
Clock -- a race to be somebody.
620 · May 2016
Village of Care
Daniel Ospina May 2016
Seldom am I struck with terror, as the
Day I sojourned at the Village of Care.
Welcome, they said, we are defenders
Of truth. Here all evil must beware.
You look famished. Come join us  
For our monthly community feast,
A time of fellowship and celebration,
A time for a blessing from the High Priest.
I took my seat at one of their long tables
And was instructed to bow my head
As the High Priest blessed the food
And to my horror slit his wrist and bled  
On a silver cup passed for everyone to sip.
I refused of course when the cup came to me.
Excuse me sir, but this is a hallowed tradition,
To descent is an offense of high degree.
Now, now said the village chief, he is our guest.
Slaves, send out the newborn brain, let us eat!
I winced when I saw the platters of gray mush
Brought in by branded men, scarred and beat.
I turned to the woman beside me and asked how
Are there still slaves and absurd rituals like these.
She pretended to ignore me and looked the other
Way, but her eyes screamed… just obey… please.
The High Priest heard me and sternly declared,
Women are forbidden to speak among us men.
All that you see is in the Book of Care.
Doctrine from the most High is law, my friend.
With that the villagers ravaged on newborn brain,
Desperately consuming what they lack.
I took a bite of the gray mush and swallowed,
Yet my stomach revolted and sent the mush back.
Regurgitated brain plopped on my plate,
Heads turned and silence with full force invaded.
What sacrilege is this? exclaimed the High Priest,
It seems that this man’s soul is rot and degraded.
Utter disgust plastered on everyone’s faces.
Some men stood up and took hold of my body.
They marched to the village gates and hurled
Me out and spat on me for being ungodly.
And to this day the thought I cannot bear
That there exists the horror that is the Village of Care.
620 · Dec 2015
Last Man on Earth
Daniel Ospina Dec 2015
Laying upon the dust laden wasteland
The last man on Earth reminisces.
Bygone days like that of yellow sand
Riding the stale wind, his bare skin kisses.

Throat yearns for rivers that used to flow
Carrying fish with its mighty currents.
Earth’s green lungs blackened like the crow
Feasting on cadavers raining in torrents.

Phantoms of loved ones sustain his breath,
If only he’d spent more time with them.
He worked to live and lived to work to death,
Unaware how worthless were his gems.

Pursuit of happiness was man’s downfall,
For they sought it neglecting the essential.
Polluting, colluding until nothing was all,
Extracting the entirety of Earth’s potential.

War, famine, pestilence, typical ending.
If only the warnings were heeded,
And appreciation for nature’s tending,
Then maybe we’d have proceeded.

You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.
Now it is too late to right our wrongs.
607 · Mar 2016
Make Sorrow Grin
Daniel Ospina Mar 2016
Angel wings blotched with ink
Pluck the feathers, let them sink
Down the depths of fleeting pleasure
What is good? Subjective measure.
Whitest linen hemmed with gold
Lined with rubies, red and bold
Dropped in mud, in realm of swine,
Even Lamb with sinners dined.
You who claim to be righteous
Free from blame, always cautious
To never break a moral code
But fail to love and the self erode.
Take the time to introspect
To empathize and project
A light for those who’ve lost their way,
For in their shoes you walked for days.
Soles wore thin, where to begin?
Strive to make sorrow grin.
605 · Jan 2016
The Awakening
Daniel Ospina Jan 2016
Ants march to their empire
With the crumbs of giants
Along a riverine path
Sinuous like the forest nymphs.
The leaves gossip with winds
From Earth’s four corners,
Tales of how the mighty have
Fallen to the tides of change.
Fate sisters are dead, no longer
Can they tickle the fickle threads
Which orderly suspend the universe.
Streams of chance revitalize
The mundane gray horizons
That blanket industrial visions,
Where nails and hammers make
Love to each other, the mechanical
Euphoria erecting shanty towers
Bending to the gravity of need.
Pallid faces are mass produced
In the land of milk and honey.
They said this is where dreams
Were born from black ashes,
Yet only meek weeds were able
To sprout in such parched air.
An awakening is imminent,
Whispered the winds to the leaves.
The youth will fertilize the scorched
Earth with soft, tolerant hands.
Callouses will peel off with the
Soothing touch of promise, as
The old dead skin rides the dust.
604 · Dec 2015
The New Year
Daniel Ospina Dec 2015
Dusk of the old.
Dawn of the new.
Resolutions like
Ice sculptures
Chiseled by
Noble dreams.
Some melt under
The trying heat of
The sun.
Others thrive and
Grow under
Cold, calculated
Set the tone.
Yet you are
The composer
Of the New Year
590 · Jun 2016
Man of Color
Daniel Ospina Jun 2016
Rainbow cascades down the clouds
In all its colorful splendor, only to
Ingress in a land listless and gray.
The people watch in horror as color
Invades them, the contrast, repulsive.
The children scream and run to their
Mothers, pointing at such anomaly.
“Don’t look, my dears. Such filth your
Eyes must not witness.” A curious  
Bystander inspects the rainbow and as he
Lay his hands on it, color makes its way
Up his arm, flushing out the pale visage.
His hair the color of earth, hazel eyes, and
Garments, a fiery crimson and tint of  
Sunrise. Pandemonium erupts as the  
Man of color stands before the crowds.
“Mom, why does he have color?”
“Keep your distance, my dear, he might
be dangerous.” The man of color walks
Down the street as people scurry away
In fear. “You! Hands up!” Commands a
Squad of armed officers and they proceed
To arrest him. Cuffed, he is taken to the
Town jailhouse and studied by a team of
Physicians. “How do you feel, Sir?”
“ I feel happier than I ever felt in years.”
The man of color surmised he was free,
But little did he know he was imprisoned
By the town. Marked. Stigmatized. Reviled.  
A freak who lost it all for showing his true
Colors. Ostracized and alone, why live?
But one fateful day, the man of color found
Purpose, and discovered an ability to infuse
Color on any object he chose. It didn’t take long
For his house to burst with vibrant blues, reds,
Greens, and yellows. He hurried outside to
Breathe resplendent hues onto pallid flowers,
And took a step back, glowing with pride.
Onwards he dashed to town to impart color
On the bleak streets and its ashen inhabitants.
“Hold it right there, freak!" Yelled someone from
Behind. "I saw what you did, and I can’t let you
Pass.” A shot was heard and a bullet pierced
Through his sanguine heart. Falling to his knees,
The man of color kissed the ground and
Declared, “May color come to those who love,”
And breathed his last.
Inspired by the Orlando Pulse nightclub massacre.
560 · Nov 2015
The Perfectionist
Daniel Ospina Nov 2015
Who would I be if perfection is not attained?
A total failure.
Nothing but the absolute best is expected of me.
No room for errors.
One mishap and my world implodes and
**** fire incinerates the satisfaction of my previous
Successes, meaningless if not prolonged.
Oh, rescue me from my acute addiction to praise.
I need you to tell me how excellent my work is,
Or else I will relapse into insomnia, kept awake
By my reeking incompetence.
I need you to remind me how wonderful I am,
Since achievement equates to my identity.
***** away the accolades and I am a carcass
Starved by my bulimic tendencies.  
Never sated. I must do better. I must be better.
I want to make you proud.
I want to be worthy.
Can’t you see? I live for your approval!
Some say you learn from mistakes,
That they help build character.
Ha! Mistake? What is that? Sounds disgusting.
535 · Nov 2015
The Old Hag in Rags
Daniel Ospina Nov 2015
Have you seen the old hag in rags
Mumbling nonsense in the town square?
Her odor so pungent, even flies gag,
A Medusa who petrifies with her stare.

Her name unknown, her story a secret,
The butcher claims she’s God incognito
Here to see if we aid those who need it,
Though doubtful, such torture He’d veto.

Gossip circulates the town at every corner,
But I know the truth of this old woman.
It turns out she’s the Duchess of Arbor
Who gave it all away to the poorest children.

The fools are quick to judgement impart,
But there’s an occulted truth in every heart.
532 · Feb 2016
Daniel Ospina Feb 2016
Gasping for fresh air
Standing on your tippy toes
In a sea of books
Robbing my time to write poetry :(
494 · Mar 2016
The Demagogue
Daniel Ospina Mar 2016
Thistle ****** draw the blood,
Jolt from their timeless lulls.
Candle wicks singe the flood
Of ignorance infested skulls.

Watch the fair complexion
Be siren to their common eyes.
A god to provide direction,
The answer to their cries

Words sweet as golden honey,
But toxic to their souls.
The wise dismiss it as funny
Until the joke runs stark cold

Bigotry is their dole
Scapegoats on the menu
Brick walls they patrol
If you cross, they’ll **** you

Scrawny dogs lap up the brine
Of what’s thought to be milk.
Nameless number on the line
To cloak him with purple silk.

Once the throne is prepared
And the cushion well plumped
He’ll suction your air and
Have your humanity *******.
Inspired by Trump.

Posted this before but I  accidently deleted it :P
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