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Jul 2020 · 68
The Man at the Crossroads
There was once a man lost at the crossroads
who pondered which road to behold.
He hesitated to walk down a single path,
fearing how long the roads would last.
In his mind, he recalled the voice of a friend
who was willing to guide him to the end.
They said “There’s no need to go alone.
Whichever path you take, you’ll find your way home.”
With nothing to lose, the man took his stride
down a path he could take without too much pride.
Though he knows not his destination, he still walks,
knowing that there is light to guide him in the dark.
Whatever clouds may gather above,
he can be reassured that he is loved.
This is a short poem I wrote back on December 23rd 2019 when I was running out of ideas for short stories and poems.
They call him the King of Horror
He’s a walking Armageddon
A nightmare given flesh
Made to rot and decay
Just like everything else
I call him by the barcode
Written right on his brain
Nihilson

CHORUS 1:
With an empty stomach and heart
There is no hope from the start
That’s how he was designed
To cut our world down to size

From the penthouse fat cats
To the downtown thugs
No man or child is safe
From his marrow touch
And his eyes of hate
They see no happiness
No truth or dare
Just bugs and cocktails
Waiting to be spilled
Till every drop is gone
He won’t rest in peace
Until life is dead


CHORUS 2:
With an empty stomach and heart
There is no love from the start
That’s how he was designed
(God help our wretched souls)
To tear the world down to size
He’s cut the world down to size

Is he the King of Horror?
Can he crawl out of the grave
And into our dreams?
Is there no stopping him?
Will our minds be wiped clean
So we can suffer no longer?
Will we not even remember
How Nihilson came to be?
What does it matter?
We are who we will be
From one monster to another
It’s all a bad dream
That’s all we can dream
To be heard and never seen
That’s who we will be
If we don’t wake up and see
This poem is a tribute to "King of Horror", one of the songs in Splendid Fred Records' album "This Changes Everything (11 Songs About Climate Change)". When listening to the song, I imagined the titular King of Horror being a severely disfigured assassin, almost similar to Marvel's Deadpool but far more sinister. Also, the name "Nihilson" is a portmanteau of the name "Nilson" and the word "nihil". I originally wrote this back on February 5th 2018.
Apr 2017 · 841
Omniscience?
What you watch?
What you see?
What you hear?
What you read?

What you learn?
What you know?
What you don't?
Where you go?
Happy April Fools 2017
Beware of falsehoods
That's what the cards told me
Now the curtain is rising
And it's not pretty to see

The bridges are long gone
But the evil still breeds
What's going to happen to us and me?

Where is our Shepherd
When we need him dear?
Isn't there much more to life
Than just blood and tears?

A hot steel rhino
Drowns a city in its screams
What's going to happen to them and me?

The accursed notebook
Earns its stars and stripes
The eagle is grounded
While the magpies take flight

A young grim reaper
Brings his scythe to a sheen
What's going to happen to him and me?

Here lies Jonny Boy
And his fall from grace
All his strings are breaking
And he realizes too late

Forgive me Claudine
For the bitterness I keep
What's going to happen to you and me?

Brains are frying
And hearts are spilled
The more we hurt now
The longer it takes to heal

Have I still a long way
Before I lay down and sleep?
What's going to happen to all and me?

Where are you now, dear Shepherd?
Can you hear me?
Can we save ourselves?
In response to today's bad news including the devastating Westminster Bridge Assault. I've been at my wit's end with everything that's happened in just one day...

Woe for England and the world indeed!
Feb 2017 · 444
Oh, Abernathy
Oh, Abernathy
How long has it been
Since we left school
And went our separate ways?

Oh, Abernathy
I still think of you
And I wonder how you are
To this day

All the things we used to make
All the rules we tried to break
And they say that kids will still be kids

But, oh, Abernathy
The teachers are doing fine
They were smiling
When I visited them one day

And, oh, Abernathy
I hope you're doing well
Wherever you are
Whatever may come your way

Oh, the memories I hold dear
They have all but disappeared
It's both a blessing and a curse

Oh, Abernathy
My Lawrence, Abernathy
I wonder what you're doing
To this day

There's no need to be upset
Please don't sweat this stuff or fret
I only want to let you know

Abernathy, you're still on my mind
I remember your golden hair and your pearly eyes
Our friendship will never fade away, I swear

Oh, Abernathy
Dear Lawrence, Abernathy
I just pray to God
That you are still okay

Oh, Abernathy
I always think of you
And I wonder how you are
To this day
For my primary school crush, Abbie, at Shepherd's Down School...

Heavily inspired by "Angie" by The Rolling Stones.

Sorry I missed Valentine's Day for this.
Feb 2016 · 2.0k
No Mind To Use?
Whatever happened to the promises
We made for the greater good?
What are we doing to keep them?
Are we doing less than we should?

What are we teaching our children now?
Are we teaching them at all?
What will they grow up to be?
Will they live to become our downfall?

Did we forget our own language?
Or did we simply not learn in the first place?
And have we no words to write
And no words to say?

What good are our brains
If we have no mind to use them?

Is this the best we can do?
Have we reached our limits?
Can we aim high no longer?
Are we fated to aim forever low?

How many times must we be warned
Until we get the message?
Are the ones who warn wasting their breath?
Are we going deaf?

How much blood do we have to spill?
How much damage do we have to cause and feel?
Have we gone blind?
Whatever happened to goodwill?

What's to become of the loving ones?
What's to become of the earnest ones?
What's to become of everyone with a heart?

Are all the good people doomed
To be used by the bad?

Is this the best we can do?
Have we reached our limits?
Can we aim high no longer?
Are we fated to aim forever low?

What about faith, hope and love?
What about those who live to love?

What about faith, hope and love?
What about those who live for love?

What about faith, hope and love?
What about those who live in love?

What about faith, hope and love?
What about those who live and love?
In response to the headlines at the start of this month as well as the issues they describe (e.g. national illiteracy, incompetent politicians, crime and terrorism, etc.)...

---

© 2016 Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude, Incognitus Entertainment
Nov 2015 · 598
Colobus
What are you thinking now?
Where are you going now?
What are you thinking, Colobus?

How are you doing today?
How are you feeling today?
How are you doing, Colobus?

Is there somewhere that you need to be?
Or feel the urge to be?
Is there something that you want to do?
No matter how high the walls may be?

Will you be alright out there?
Even in the cold night out there?
Will you be alright, Colobus?

Promise that you'll take care out there?
Promise that you'll be strong out there?
Promise that you'll take care, Colobus?
Inspired by the Angolan colobus which I saw with my own eyes at the Marwell Zoo, Winchester this October.

---

© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Nov 2015 · 2.4k
This Is Not A Poem
Sorry to trouble you,
but there’s something I ought to tell you now that you’re here.
If you came here looking for an interesting poem to read,
I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place.
Why?
Because this is not a poem.

This is not a narrative detailing a certain someone doing something in a certain time and place.
This is not a series of lyrics longing to be converted into music.
This is not a picture made up of a thousand words – or thousands for that matter.

This is not a fancy epic or tragedy or comedy bound by the treacherous laws of stanzas.
This is not an ode to a pre-existing memory – or several memories for that matter.

This is not a set of verses born free from the daunting laws of stanzas.
This is not even a collage of pre-existing poems mixed and matched to the heart’s content.
Simply put – this is anything but a poem.

Even if it was,
I doubt that it would be the kind of poem you would want to read.
You would most likely find better poetry somewhere else.
Here, there is no narrative, no subject matter and no context.
Therefore, if this was a poem,
it would be about absolutely nothing and have no meaning whatsoever to anyone.

That’s why I’m telling you that this is not a poem.
That’s why I’m advising you to look for a real poem elsewhere.
But, no matter what I say,
you wouldn’t listen to me anyway, would you?

I made it clear from the beginning that this is not a poem,
but you read it through to the end regardless.
Why is that?
Why would you take the time to read something about absolutely nothing?

Were you curious?
Did you just happen to stumble upon this while minding your own business and decide to take a peek out of curiosity?
Or were you bored?
Were you feeling desperate to find something completely different from the poetry you would normally read?

Either way,
this was never meant to be a poem waiting to be read.
And yet, in spite of that,
you read it anyway.
For that, I feel that the least I can do in return is say this:

Thank you.
No comment.

---

© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Aug 2015 · 756
Condolences for Charlie
Walking the dawn in darkness
Passing the synthesis of stars
Who could you be looking for
On an hour shrouded in vice?

Do you seek the dame in bruises?
The dame who you shunned to do no harm?
The months may pass you by
But not your fears or your tears

This time
The cries are not your own
This time
You feel the need to compensate
For the distance that you made
To protect yourself from pain

Tonight
You have condolences to give
Tonight
You feel the need to chip at the ice
Before you turn and run
With no more ties to this crumbling estate

Your eyes were quivering so
Your lips were sealed by your own will
You dared not ***** your hands
Just glance and wear a smile or two

But now as the fool is raging
You fear that the dame may turn down life
As you considered once
When you sunk down all those years ago

This time
The cries are not your own
This time
You feel the need to compensate
For the distance that you made
To protect yourself from pain

Tonight
You have condolences to give
Tonight
You feel the need to chip at the ice
Before you turn and run
With no more ties to this crumbling estate

Do you wish to remain faithful
To your newfound passion for life?
Is that why you hope to reach out
Just this one time?

When you were a child
Your heart was shattered by violence
Cornering you into a hall of chains
Now you fear that there are other hearts out there
Running on the edge of despair
Could that be why

This time
The cries are not your own
This time
You feel the need to compensate
For the distance that you made
To protect yourself from pain

Tonight
You have condolences to give
Tonight
You feel the need to chip at the ice
Before you turn and run
With no more ties to this crumbling estate
Originally written on July 24th 2015 after witnessing a domestic dispute between a female neighbor and her alcoholic male partner.

Alas, despite the woman wanting to break up with her partner on the night of the incident, they're together again like nothing happened...

---

© 2015 Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude, Incognitus Entertainment
May 2015 · 649
3-Course Heartbreak
We have endured for so long
Together in the heart of inmost turmoil
Our hearts crashing into brick walls
Too shunned to recoil let alone beat

But we have only had a taste test
Of the heartbreak we are yet to face
Just a sample of the pain
Intensifying every passing day
Can we be strong when the time comes?

So many years have passed by
Years of walking in the sea of rain and stone
WIth minds full of gasoline
We cannot hope to survive the overflow of heat

For we have only had a taste test
Of the heartbreak we are yet to face
Just a sample of the pain
Intensifying every passing day
Can we stay strong when the time comes?

My tears are too precious to shed
In no way can I ever afford to let them fall
Into the wrong hands
But my heart cannot hold them away for long
I fear that I may not awake from the nightmare
In the obelisk of glass

As I have only had a taste test
Of the heartbreak I am bound to face
Just a sample of the pain
Intensifying in my lonely wake
Must I be strong when the time comes?
Must I get strong when the time comes?
Without being too specific, let's just say that things are getting really rough in my current hometown and I'm desperate to secure a new home on the other side of my country as soon as possible.

The lines of this poem were heavily influenced by the lyrics of Kate Bush's "Experiment IV." There is also a small reference to a poem I wrote last year titled "Glass Obelisk."

---

© 2015 Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude, Incognitus Entertainment
Apr 2015 · 2.8k
Do You Enjoy It?
Do you enjoy* causing trouble wherever you go?
Do you enjoy hurting people wherever you go?
Do you enjoy disturbing the peace we work towards?
Do you enjoy threatening the dreams we fight for?
Do you enjoy making problems for people?
Do you enjoy creating evil after evil?
Do you enjoy forcing others to cry?
Do you enjoy pushing others to die?
A serious message for the earnest to pass on to the apathetic.

---

© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Mar 2015 · 779
Good Day, Bad Night
Wonderland by day
Wasteland by night

Hospitable under the sun
Hostile under the moon

Flourishing in the light
Destructive in the dark

Heaven for the accompanied
Hell for the alone

I was born on the bright side
Now I live on the dark side

But not for long
I'm going back
This poem pretty much sums up my experience living alone in Stockton-on-Tees for almost two years. Makes me all the more glad that I'll be moving down to Eastleigh this summer.

---

© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Dec 2014 · 640
Needles and Hope
Ever since I was growing up
I've been walking a rocky path
Each long night wouldn't be the first
Nor would it be the last

Now this is something most of the time
I've only felt in my heart
But never before did I feel it straight
Until one cold hike in the dark

I got spikes in the grass
Mud on my shoes
Blood on my hands
But nothing to lose
Skin full of needles
Head full of hope
Time to get back on the ***** (I hope)

Ever since I was a college boy
My monochrome scarf from France
Accompanied me on the bleakest of days
Though I guess it wasn't meant to last

Because I got spikes in the grass
Mud on my shoes
Blood on my hands
But nothing to lose
Skin full of needles
Head full of hope
Time to get back on the *****
I wrote this poem after falling into a thorn bush and getting myself out at the cost of my favourite capped beanie and Paris scarf.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Aug 2014 · 719
Never Smiled Their Way
Foul-mouthed parkers
Young and grown alike
Made for a productive day
A troublesome night

The residents to my right
Slandered behind me in fear
And that is when I cracked wide
Into a body of screams and tears

I cried
'Stop! Stop!'
'I can't take any more!'
My heart turning to glass
'I just want to be left alone!'
'Is that too much to ask!?'

This tragedy may not have been
If I had simply smiled their way
But all I did was drown them out
Until this fateful day

Little did I know
That they were watching me all year
Trying to find a way
To console me and my fears

But not once did I wish them well
Or turn to them for help
And so I brought this crushing ordeal
Entirely upon myself

And I cried
'Stop! Stop!'
'I can't take any more!'
My heart turning to glass
'I just want to be left alone!'
'Is that too much to ask!?'

This tragedy may not have been
If I had simply smiled their way
But all I did was drown them out
Until this fateful day

Then they held my hand
And reassured me on their knees
That they have someone dear to them
With the same troubles as me

Still this tragedy may not have been
If I had simply smiled their way
But all I did was drown them out
Until this fateful day
This may be my most emotional poem yet as it is based on a recent ordeal that befell upon me just a few hours ago; my first emotional breakdown since last year.

Feeling isolated by the delinquencies in my town as well as overhearing hurtful slander from my concerned next-door neighbors (what I perceived to be verbal threats of violence behind my back), I refused to take any more. I opened my front door screaming and tearfully begging them to stop talking about me and leave me alone forever.

This may never have happened if I had just been willing to trust them even the slightest. But I didn't trust them at all. Instead, I remained bitter and distrusting towards them thus bringing this ordeal upon myself.

Shortly after my first emotional outburst in a long time, one of the neighbors (a kind and understanding woman) knelt down on my doorstep to comfort and reassure me.

She informed me that she was hoping to find a way to comfort me ever since I moved in near them last year. All they wanted was for me to feel happy and safe living next door to her. But all I did up until now was push her and her family away from me.

She reassured me saying that she had a nephew with troubles similar to mine. More importantly, she promised that she and her family would genuinely mean me no harm as long as I trusted them from hereon in.

And so, after what seemed like a whole hour of total relapse, I finally agreed to trust them. Nothing may change significantly overnight, but I'll do my best to trust my neighbors from now on.

---

© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Aug 2014 · 897
8♣10♣4♦5♦A♥
Ellie's sailing down the river
Tessa's sitting by the lake
Four of us going separate ways on a hot summer day

Phil's driving up the mountains
Looking for a classic thrill coupled with a few spills
Four of us on our own adventures on a hot summer day
This is a short poem I wrote two weeks ago from just a random hand of playing cards.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Aug 2014 · 4.0k
Obscure
I always find it strange
How a clear sunny sky
Can turn to a dark cloudy rainstorm
In the blink of an eye

Now there's nothing I can see
Beyond one hundred feet
Just my dear surroundings
My belongings and me

Where did you come from?
What brings you here?
What do you want with me?
What are you doing here?

How long are you going to stay?
When are you going to leave?
I have plans for tomorrow
Don't ruin them for me please
This is a short poem I wrote two weeks ago regarding my thoughts on British weather these days.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Jul 2014 · 872
Vicious Cycle
How long must this go on for?
How much of this do we have to take?
How did we get ourselves into this mess?
How do we get ourselves out?
How many times has this happened?
How hard could it be to prevent this?
How many days has it been now?
How many weeks, months and years?
How many times must we do this?
When will this ever come to an end?
This is a short poem I wrote three months ago. I wonder why I didn't upload it earlier???

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Jun 2014 · 798
Heart on a Hook
They say that all is fair in love and war
But is all fair in the war of love?
Is there temperance amidst the virile and the delicate?
Or is it just a guise shielding us from the bitter truths of love?

Dear brother of mine
Bold lawman in the making
Had a young sweetheart years apart

He was climbing up fast
With the promise of a bright future
And she would only be the start

But two summer days
Of ecstasy and pleasure
Were all it took in the name of time

For the young sweetheart
With his heart on a hook
To tear apart the cord of his precious spine

Now his reputation, his hopes, his dreams are on the line
Because of a young heart whose blood was replaced with slime
How can this happen to a man of pure heart and mind?
Such a burden to my dear brother will never be a friend of mine
Based on a recent tragedy a few hundred miles from my hometown.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Jun 2014 · 1.3k
Anxiety Amongst Ecstasy
The unrelented grotesque of the old town centre
Buzzing strongly from its high
Too many unpleasantries for me to count
Is what I discovered after midnight

While everyone was laughing, shouting and wandering around
I was cowering, screaming and pleading for no more sound
My butterflies were neurotic - they were eating me inside
It's a wonder why I didn't throw up one single time

And so, I ran away
Through the flags and bunting
I ran away
Past the ranting and blubbering
I ran away
I'm anxious to tears
I ran away
Get me out of here!
This poem was written after witnessing my town centre at closing time last Saturday night. You can tell from this poem that I didn't find it the least bit pretty.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Jun 2014 · 5.2k
Heat
Ouch!
It's hot!
Ever so boiling!
Too hot to handle!
I can't stand this heat!
I need a drink of water!
Something nice and cool!
Something ice cold!
A drink!
Anything!
This is a short poem I wrote just before last week's Creative Writing session started.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 2.9k
As Both Knight and Steed
Many legends there be back in days of old;
Legends of bold knights upon their noble steeds.
This be a tale starring a knight and his steed
As one and the same.

'Twas in the Renaissance city of Poitiers
The prodigy of a holy knight was born;
Sir Nathanëal of the Salomon bloodline,
Lineage of victors.

He bore the heart and voice of an archangel
And the loyalty of a priest to his God.
No other horse he rode but his first and last;
Dear "Divinitus."

Alas, his loyalty had cost him dearly
In the midst of the Battle of Moncontour.
Thus came the end of Nathanëal Salomon.
Or so it had seemed.

By the hands of benevolent sorcery,
Nathanëal and Divinitus lived again,
This time sharing a peculiar physique
Of both man and horse.

Thus, blessed with fur of white and a mane of gold,
Well-equipped with lightweight armour and claymore,
He walked the outskirts of France slaying evil
As both knight and steed.
Here is my very first sapphic which I wrote as part of my homework for Tees Achieve Creative Writing.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 1.5k
Relay
I know who I am,
But not who or what I was.
Why can't I recall?
Nothing too fancy; just a quick haiku reflecting my thoughts regarding ancestry and reincarnation. I find myself asking this question at least once a month.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 2.5k
Thy Rest Hath No Peace?
O dear Morpheus, for thy rest be no disturbance in thee?
For thy sole ideas be neither order nor structure in flow?
Fear I sense for thy sacrèd inmost sanctum closes its eye.
This is a Sijo that I wrote one morning after having trouble sleeping. Its language is mostly influenced by William Shakespeare (hence the grave accent).

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 2.2k
From One to Another
With gestures increasingly erratic with every strike
And punts as constant as ink gliding across ivory
Our vigilant artisan gathers his wisdom on combat's eve.
This is a little Sijo that I wrote to reflect my long-term love for Eastern culture. I felt inspired to write this after watching too much of "Two Best Friends Play Yakuza 4."

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 2.0k
Impudence
Pardon me, but is something amusing you?
Must you mock everything I say and do?
Do you treat everyone you pass this badly?
Didn't anyone teach you how to behave properly?

One night, I could've sworn I heard you crying.
And yet you were still effing and blinding.
When in God's name will you mend your ways?
You're driving yourself to an early grave!
Based on a true story. Nothing more to say.

---

© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 1.2k
No Place for Justice?
In times of suffocating distance and dread of age, our heroes become toy soldiers and fall stagnant as their minds and bodies turn plastic.

Alas, trapped in a thin yet unbreakable steel sphere pearled by the sorrow of past prisoners, I am forced to cringe at the thick, sour stench of sadism and apathy thus tumble down a bottomless  path which many innocent were forced down before me.
This here is a word association prose I wrote two weeks ago during a Tees Achieve Creative Writing session.

The objective of this exercise was to write three words associated with each word given by the tutor and then use our associated words in written order to create a short prose.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 2.0k
Waterproof Partner
Walking down the wet pavement was a tall, young man in a black, silk yukata robe with matching leather shoes, spandex half-mask and large, opaque umbrella with a round, wooden handle.

One could say that he was posing as a sharp-dressed samurai without a sword; that he was eager to recreate the experience of a samurai strolling through his ancient hometown. But there were no cherry blossoms falling on his umbrella, only heavy raindrops.

In fact, raindrops have been falling on his umbrella ever since he purchased it from one of his favorite clothes department stores. Back then, he used to carry it with him whenever he wore his favorite grey, cotton trench coat and navy-blue jeans in the rain.

One may mistake him for a chameleon changing his colors once a day or a piano ballad shifting tempo and style with each verse; maybe even a cottage with lights flashing at different speeds like sweet turning sour in the blink of an eye.

Regardless of it all, he would always carry his trustworthy, respectable umbrella and count on it to keep him dry even in the heaviest of downpours.
I wrote this short semi-autobiographical story during one of my Tees Achieve Creative Writing sessions in which I was tasked with writing an article about my favorite clothes as described here.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 3.9k
Hour of Ebony
The unpredictable hour of ebony arrives.
No choice have I but to sustain my absence from my affairs
Till the vastly capricious moment of inconvenience fades.
A quick Sijo written during a recent blackout in Norton, England

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 5.9k
The Lost Parts
In an endless corridor of mirrors as clean as snow,
Me and my friends grasp each other with loose open arms and smile
As we dive into the mist of recognition and truce.
My debut Sijo heavy influenced by Lewis Carroll's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 1.1k
Glass Obelisk
Beneath the dense amber downpour of remedy, I rest.
Atop the immense scarlet sea of anarchy, I stand.
And in the midst of etiquette drawing its final breath, I weep.
My favorite Sijo so far mostly based on one of my most common dreams as well as my feelings regarding society and my place in it.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 1.6k
Divine Judgment
Peace to repentance
Nothingness to apathy
Such as all should be
My debut haiku strongly influenced by my strong sense of morality and injustice.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Two performers debating on a quirky time capsule stage

Evaporating the barriers of time with their improv

As the spectators breathe life into their routine with no turmoil
Inspired by two hilarious costumed actors I met at the Preston Hall Museum today.

This also happens to be one of my first few sijo poems thanks to Tees Achieve's Creative Writing course.

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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 392
Is It?
Is it because I didn't talk to you enough?
Is it because I didn't treat you well enough?
Is it because I didn't give you enough of my time?
Is it because you never wanted to be mine?

Is that why? Is that why you had to leave me?
Is that why? Is that why you had to go?

Is it because things are getting too hard for you?
Is it because you felt I couldn't comfort you?
Is it because you didn't want to burden me?
Is it because you just wanted what was best for me?

Is that why? Is that why you had to leave me?
Is that why? Is that why you had to go?

Is it because you knew we weren't meant to be?
This here is a little poem that came from the top of my head one night two months ago while thinking about music. I had to urge to write it down while I still had the idea in my head.

It's one of those poems that focuses on the aftermath of a breakup between two close friends. The lyrics were mostly influenced by Pink Floyd's "Mother" from their famous musical extravaganza "The Wall" (1979). I didn't want to be too specific about the couple in question; heterosexual or homosexual, interspecies or not, it's all up to your imagination.

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Lyrics © Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude

DO NOT USE OR REDISTRIBUTE FOR PROFIT WITHOUT PERMISSION.
May 2014 · 1.1k
XXI - The World
The end of one story is the beginning of another.
Many obstacles and challenges have been overcome.
But the pursuit of happiness is far from over...
Because a whole new story has just begun!

A whole new story, as of now, unwritten...
With no words, no pictures, no tales to retell.
Whatever challenges and hardships await you in the future...
Only time will tell!
Based on Major Tarot Arcana XXI - The World
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© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
May 2014 · 1.1k
Lost In The Snow
I'm lost again
Lost again in the snow

There's nothing here
No people
No houses
No trees
Nothing

Nothing but white
and me

It's so cold here
Yet I still feel warm

I'm lost here
Yet I feel like I've been here before

I look up
I see a hand
It helps me up

The hand disappears
I see a house
I recognize that house

I reach out
I open the door
I am home

It's warm here
And I feel that warmth

I start feeling cold
I can't feel its warmth anymore

I'm lost again
Lost again in the snow
Story of my life

. Written after depression in September 2010

. Inspired by "Counting the Roses" by Arto Lindsay

"Poetry to me, it's like creating my own microcosm.
A sanctuary of comfort. It was probably, no, it must have been the end of another sad day when I wrote this poem."

- Kimberly Fox, fictional character (D2)

. For my loving family who is, was and always will there for me



Thank you

— The End —