by
rgpage


when i look around this place
its antiquated beds and halls,
and hearing sounds that old age brings
the sounds of sadness through the walls.

and glancing into weary eyes
which stare ahead in planted gaze.
i wonder what story there in lies
a story in which they lived their days.

now at last they're all alone
alone because they have no place
no place that they can call their own
no children now to show their love.

yes lives now spent and youth gone past
their silver hair and faces red,
this lonely life they live at last
and roam these halls until they're dead.

old and crippled a man now lies
a cruel way for life to end.
to stay this way until he dies
in dim lit room void of friends.

quietly now a woman sits
her spouse and children long since gone.
to do no more but wait her turn
of when her lonely life is done.

a sorrow touches felt by all
of knowing that the end is near,
there's those awaiting final call
a call to death which few do fear...

I went looking for God
but I found you instead.
Bad luck or destiny,
you decide.

Buried in the muck,
the soot of the city,
sorrow for an appetite,
devil on your left shoulder,
angel on your right.

You, with your thorny rhythms
and tragic, midnight melodies.

My heart never tried
to commit suicide before.

You asked me if

we would ever die

and I said that

no, i don’t think so

there’s too many wounds

still opening

and not enough scars

there’s all the time

and so much more to love.

You asked me why,

and I said

that because

we don’t believe

in god

there would be nobody

to take what is

ours.

Tonight
I am going to make love to myself, to remind myself of
What I feel like.
I will hike
To the summit of my
Entirety
And entirely
******
On the ****** of my
Truths

maybe you were just a lesson I needed learning
time's child, grown too soon
but then, time rushes for no man
so perhaps you only lasted as long as you were meant to.

maybe you were a gift of hope
in a moment when I needed it most
someone to cling to, someone to treasure
but that hope wilted when the sun wouldn't shine.

maybe you were a fabrication of memories
gathered and sewn together carefully
a quilt of the past, too old-fashioned for the present
and after a while I couldn't keep you from unraveling.

maybe you were a daydream
floating around in my head, quiet and breathless
a perfect fantasy I'd escape to when I was lonely
but reality would always find its way back to me.

and maybe you were just you
the you I always forgot, or tried to forget
the you who would never return my feelings
but I risked loving you anyway.

Through Summers ' heat
and icy rain
The stone faced guardians
remain.

They stand fast
when the snow lies deep.
They stand their guard
where the heroes
sleep.

Long Summers past
there was a war
and boys in butternut
charged gloriously.

Then broke upon
the blue clad wall
as cliffs repel
the storm tossed sea.

Now of that host
not one remains
to sound the charge
or scale a wall.

The stone faced guardians
remain
long past the bugles'
dying call.

Bloom into the awkward moment between birth and death even though it can be tiresome. Aspirational iconoclasts are always minorities. The first real question should be “What the ****?" followed perhaps by a shaking of the head. Nurse on passive vitriol and slowly learn to fall in line. Pretend, for this is not the time. It will come but you must be patient. Ambulate with eyes cast downward like the others. The enemy is arrogant in its control; there is their weakness. Let them think that they possess great strength and go so far as to compliment them on it. Meanwhile, nurture the next breed of human. Let them try to fix you and act (as casually as possible) as though they have succeeded. Normality will fail in good time. Truth darkles; it militates against expectation. Embrace the hint of hate in the air by breathing deep. You need to fail to appreciate victory. The defeated night horizon will compliment your jaded eyes. Steal your own art with poise and without pause. Arrive late for the train and ride, tearing in the wind, clinging to its back. Yearn for a chaotic, vibrant death. Know that you were never, ever, alone.