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Jarret M Spiler Feb 2019
In our day and age, our kings and queens have gone into hiding.
Our emperor's, fly from sky-top to sky-top, hidden by mile-wide clocks and daggers
In our day and age. Power rides the four horsemen at night,
They no longer slither on the ground, but roar in the wisp-o-willow of the night.
Power is played with its greatest device; ignorance in a haystack of knowledge.
Jarret M Spiler Mar 2018
If you ever find yourself laying in bed,

With the lights down,

An unable to fall asleep.

Close your eyes,

And follow the abstract nature of the world you seek!

When you walk through the hallways of your eyes,

Infinity seems like a good possibility.
Jarret M Spiler Mar 2018
I am the story,

A story about love,

A story about true fantasy,

A comic book hero,

A mystery novel waiting for the clues,

Everyone has a story,

Being written right now,

Enjoy it,

Live it,

Maybe someone will get to read the whole thing one day.

Make sure to write it!
Jarret M Spiler Apr 2016
Breath in,
Breath out,
Hands fold,
Hands unfold,
Continuously, looking up to me.
I feel nothing.
Then I realize,
I feel everything,
I just pretend it's not true.
I DO Breath in with you
I DO Breath out with you
I DO feel your hands by me
I am afraid of whats to come of me.
I fear what is on the horizon
Jarret M Spiler Apr 2016
Sound is a dream containing a conscious state,
Forgive me if i have given the wrong estate.
Dreaming isn't about circumstances,
Music isn't about just listening,
Embodiment is the latter,
Music is my muse,
Dreaming can be a ruse,
Nonetheless, I find them both amusing.
Another day. Another poem.
Jarret M Spiler Mar 2016
In my jacket I fail to see the light,
Looking at the woven thread,
I stare at the zipper.
Placed as a shield for light.
I get lost in my world I call my Jacket.
My arms beside me.
I peek out into the world,
and find quiet movement,
formal greetings,
grand gestures,
and my mind not caring.
Off the cuff poem
Jarret M Spiler Mar 2016
I slide in and out of my room,
closing the door ever-so-gently,
I don't come back until the break of dusk.
Sometime later.
I feel like I can't go into my own apartment,
I cannot trust myself to leave any doors open,
Or even leave my toothbrush not hidden.
I fear the creaking of the shadow in the other room.
They live with nothing.
They live with horror,
and muster up terror.
I am afraid of seeing the shadows utter in the space of our apartment.
The sun doesn't shine on our space,
it burns it.
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