As I lay myself in a field of yellow daffodils,
I gaze at the boundless blue canvas before me.
Why is your beauty so enrapturing?
I ask Mother Nature.
Why do you insist on giving
Despite the affliction we bring on to you?
How much longer until you give way
To our reckless savagery?

I wait for a response, but none came.
Only the swaying of the daffodils to the
Beat of the breeze tickle my ears.
Suddenly, a resounding wail was heard
Rousing me from my trance.
The heavens opened up and a volley of tears
Pierced the ground as wild gales
Devoured the yellow surrounding me.
Critters scurried for cover from the
Wrath of Mother Nature.

Forgive us for our transgressions, I cried out!
Forgive us for ignoring your plea for mercy!
Forgive us for lashing at your gaping wounds!
Forgive us for stripping you naked time and time again!
Forgive us for failing to appreciate your tender care!
Forgive us! Forgive us!

Mother Nature looked down upon my contrite heart
She immediately hushed her violent rage.
She smiled and embraced me with sunlight.
The critters came out of their sanctuaries to
Greet their Mother.
The daffodils resumed their dance for her,
As I stood still, awestruck  by her splendor.

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.
EVERYONE RUNNNNNNN!
The trio fled for their lives.
A tiny field mouse emerged, amused.
Animals.

Come aboard tamed sheep.
Let us ride the bandwagon
Towards the high cliff!

Gasping for fresh air
Standing on your tippy toes
In a sea of books

How easy it is to paint people
With one color,
With one broad brush.
Over time the various
Colors on your palette
Swirl together to form globs
Of gray.
And now your monochrome
Judgement renders your world
A bleak, barren desert of ashes.
No longer do you see the world and its
People in its colorful splendor.
Some become acclimated to this dulled
Perception that has taken hold.
A perception that dominates the
Senses and gradually turns the brain
Into gray mush.
Undead they become, starving creatures
With the urge to devour.
To hurt.
No empathy. No compassion. No feeling.

Others, thankfully, know better.
Palettes must be cleansed regularly,
Layers of dried, crusted paint scraped off
With patience.
Then fresh paint is restored.
Fresh perspectives, encounters, and knowledge
Passed down by models to the artist.
Yes, we are artists.
We paint the world as we deem fit,
Plastering on others one’s own
Values, morals, and ideals.
But the true masters of this craft go beyond,
Discerning the vast spectrum of colors
That compose a human soul.

But that takes time.
Years of experience and keen observation.
But possible.

Sound the trumpet; ring the bell.
I must come out of this crystal shell.
My thoughts revolve around myself.
Save me; I’m nailed to my bookshelf.

I’m immersed in the world I created:
Ideal, just, and outdated.
Disillusioned by bleak realities,
I prefer to dwell in my own fantasies.

You say I squander my time?
That I will leave no legacy behind?
Well I say it’s not worth it,
Even if assured a golden casket.

Why bother hollering at the deaf?
Why bother waste by breath,
When I’m an insignificant speck,
Who happens to be a total wreck?

My voice is hoarse, almost mute.
Why insist to prolong my pursuit
To speak for the voiceless,
To be a martyr, a putrid carcass?

But my spirit shouts and rattles
To fight all the unfought battles.
If no one speaks, who will?
I’ll just be like those who ****.

Sound the trumpet; ring the bell.
I must come out of this crystal shell.

The clock struck midnight, and a figure stood before me.
It was garbed in black robes with a stench so foul
That my nose bled while a chill encroached my body.
Who are you? I ask while suppressing my bowels.

I am Death, and the time has come for you to go.
There’s nothing left in this world for you to savor,
And your absence will surely go unnoticed … so  
Come along now, I am doing you a great favor.

Bu-but, why so soon? There’s so much left to do!
What about my family? I haven’t seen them in years!
There’s so much I’ve yet to learn, knowledge to accrue,
And don’t get me started on unconquered fears!

Death erupted in laughter, as if it heard a timeless joke.
I’ve heard that drivel for eons. Please say no more.
For decades you’ve sat on this couch sipping some coke.
You’ve amounted to nothing; you’re a total bore.

Tell you what, I’ll give you one more chance, just one.
Turn your life around -- give me a reason to spare it.
Fail to value your life and your soul is mine, my son.
You only live once, so your life you must cherish.

Dress that can feed a village
For a hundred years.
Pompous talk, cocktail cheers.  
You wish she’d choke
On her caviar.
Your very best, always subpar.
Palace to house a single soul,
When you’re scrounging for
Coins to live off the dole.
You cringe at the sight
Of other’s success,
Secretly yearning for their distress.
Why, oh why, should I settle for less?
Their life’s a luxury, and mine’s a mess,
Even with all my sins confessed!
Envy corrodes the purest mind.
Cataracts, leaves you blind
To the riches you yourself possess --
Family, love, and health in excess.
And all along you never knew
That those you envy, envy you.

It lurks in the shadows waiting to pounce
Knocking, knocking on the door of self-doubt
Seizing the moment when your mind is most frail
To whisper the lie that you are destined to fail

How to muster the courage to use your voice?
To stand one’s ground amid the deafening noise?
Fear claims that you have no power to influence
A wicked world flooded with malice and avarice

“Who are you to spark change?” you hear Fear say
A nobody, an impotent soul who wouldn't last a day
In the midst of pressure where all eyes are fixed on you
A slip, a fall, will mark your inevitable doom

“Silence!” you command the ghastly parasite gnawing at your heart
I am in control of my own destiny; I will not fall apart
I forbid you to discourage me from pursuing my dreams
I will not back down; I will move forward, you scream

Fear flees for its life, as if caught in a storm of hail and lightning
It cringes at the sight of your courage, oh so frightening
It melts into the shadows once more
Watching you take to the skies and soar

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.

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 naked 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 lust 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,
Corpulent 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.

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?
Stupid humans.
Humans suggest that rather than lament,
I should be the light amid the gloom.
Stupid humans.
I'm allergic to futility.

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

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.

Friends come and go, but
In the most violent of storms,
Blood ties are life lines.

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.

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.

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.

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

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 ugly, William Stone,
You deserve a nice clout to your ears.
Boom.
Now he’s in a field of snow and naked 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.

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.

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.

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.

Slug inching across to the other side,
What’s so near, apart, a mile wide.
Snap, and an answer you’d expect,
Moment of silence, an eon to reject.

Indeed, wine becomes finer with time,
The taste of patience, all but sublime.
Sour hours drag as the clock ticks
While nails nibbled down to the quick.

Frantically searching for your other half
Only to be impaled by rejection’s gaff.
Blessed are those who patiently wait,
For there’s always a fish for every bait.

At first it may seem not worthwhile,
Surely your reward will crack a smile.

Ah, the contours of your head upon me,
Let me lull you with my soft touch.
Your thoughts trickle into my stuffing
Every night.
Please share with me your day;
There are no secrets between us,
As you whisper them to me.
I’m the basin for your emotions,
Absorbing your screams
Tears,
And laughter.
Fits of rage? I’ll be your enemy...
Pound away.
Hold me tight so I can comfort you.
I’ll be your companion whenever alone,
Projecting vivid dreams all night long.
I know you best.
Come lay your head and rest.

Seek and you shall find
A poison as sweet as honey
Cloaked with benign intentions
To right all wrongs
To forge the perfect future

Not all will marvel at your pristine vision
Only inferior minds would dissent
How to clear the path to progress?
How to gift sight to the blind?
Why, resort to the art of deception
Cater to the hungry masses
Caress their ears with empty promises
Sate their primal appetites
For the time being
Only then will your agenda carry through

Crush all opposition in the name of peace
Your way or the highway
No mercy to those who undermine
The Savior of the people
Worthy of praise and worship
What an honor to kiss your feet

You need more, more of this Power
Cannot quench this thirst
The narcotic to rule them all
What has this poison done to you?
Look what you’ve become
A vile monster, bloated and disfigured
Cold and indifferent to the cries of those beneath you

The throne is no longer yours to keep
The people have rebelled against you
You’re left alone to wither
In agony, consumed by Power’s poison

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.

Do you hear that?
That soothing hum?
Subtle but present
A continuous string of sound
Assuring you that all is static, immutable

How about now?
That crescendo, beating at your eardrums ever more intensely
The notes become more discrete
More jumbled
You find no pattern, no coherence
No order
Just as you think the nonsense will subside,
It persists, driving you a bit mad
Tears trickle down in frustration

But behold, there is a faint melody
Trying to dig itself out of its grave
The ghostly tune begins to materialize
Alas, you hear the most glorious symphony
An orchestra of heavenly proportions
Playing in unison as your spirit is lifted to the mountain tops
You feel empowered, like an emperor leading his legions to conquest
You grin emphatically as you absorb the warm glow of the moment

Suddenly, complete and utter silence envelopes you
A suffocating silence that isolates you from the world
Is this the end?
Was life worth living?
Am I truly happy?
The Song of Life must go on

Do you hear that?
That soothing hum?

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

They tell me I should smile more,
But I’m just lost in thought.
I like picking at my scabs and sores,
Each one an emblem of the battles I’ve fought.

Some people find solace in Summer
With its mirage that all is right.
But I thrive in the chilled Winter,
Relying on my inner warmth and light.

Go ahead…

Call me a dark cloud raining on your parade.
Call me a moping miser wallowing in pain.
Call me a bloated tick thirsty for attention.
Call me a filthy sinner unworthy of redemption.

Flimsy words deflected by my impervious mettle.
Don’t you know steel hardens in the furnace?
Leave me be, let the storm rage then settle.
Only then will I break the water’s surface.

Afterwards, I’ll mount a drifting log and ride along
Down sorrow’s stream until I reach the estuary.
Where purity meets the brine from tears’ song
And entrust my fate to the ocean currents to carry.

Humanity always seeking absolute bliss,
Condemning suffering to fathomless pits.
But under the covers of sleepless nights
Amid the sobs, wails, and blistering spite…

Out emerges a self-revelation,
A subtle truth whispered in the dark.
Cathartic release through meditation
Only bestowed by sorrow’s mark.

They tell me I should smile more,
But I’m just lost in thought.

Be a man
Said the father to his son,
Men don’t cry,
To this social construct we
Must abide:

Masculinity –
Equated with strength and
Emotional reserve

Femininity -
characterized by
Fragility and sensitivity

What if strength is much more?
What if strength has no gender?

Strength

The ability to be yourself
And pursue your aspirations despite
Social pressures and ridicule

Strength

To maintain composure and show restraint
When feeling threatened rather than allowing
Fear or anger wrest control.

Strength

To sympathize and tolerate
Those who think differently than you.

Lioness prowling the savannah
While the lions enjoy their slumber.

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.

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.

I’m falling
Falling
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.
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?!
Ingenious.
What a brilliant proposition.
I’m the captain of my own ship, and it will
Sail to wherever my heart lies.

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 *******.

The starless night was lit by a blood red moon.
Tendrils of fog invade the air in pursuit
Of the living dead who walk among us.
Door by door it creeps.
From every crevice it seeps.
Hungry for souls drenched in evil
Conjurers of suffering and upheaval.
The hour has come for retribution --
Iniquity will face its execution.
Gravestones tremble at the passing of the fog,
Awakening the dead from their slumber, years long.
Skeletal hands tear up the earth,
Groping for those who revel in hurt.  
Wolves howl in unison as the army of death
Marches forth to gather the wicked in bed.
Help us! Scream the vile vermin
While being dragged across the coals,  
We plead forgiveness for our sin,
Have mercy on our souls.
Deaf to their cries, the dead carry on
To bury the evil so that it may forever be gone.
The dead return to their graves at morning’s call
To sleep with the wicked once and for all.

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 naked 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.