Inevitability
Like fire and desire
to tear each other down or lift each other higher.
A group, any one  no matter function or size
will soon come to realize
one of them is the leader.
with this will come all the decisions  that must be made.
The pain
again and again. the loss or the win.
Same as it has ever been.
We fight, we don't fight IT.
What would be  the point its part of who we are
can't run to fast or get to far ,
from IT.
We follow or we lead
and to the leader,
inevitable greed.
It comes with power
built quickly or slowly
brick by brick
nod by nod
like a tower.
It wouldn't matter if we hoarded beads or shells or yen or francs
Whether we fight with rocks and sticks or guns and tanks.
We will
because  we are,
can't run too fast or get too far.
Whatever we value
leaves for lust,
boom or bust.
Currency is also inevitable
an assurance
a must.
Not all the chains that we put on ourselves are forged in fire
most are birthed much softer through ease or desire.
Sadly though it seems inevitable what we do to each other and therefore  our selves.
When the first of us saw that stranger from afar
fear and apprehension kicked in reminding us of what we are.
Clean water, food, fire or mate
curiosity then disorder
from love , our hate.
Inevitable.

To scream into the void or let silence devour me whole?
To claw at the seams of this waking dream,
or accept that I was never awake?

To be the mad one or the blind one?
To whisper the truth no one wants to hear,
or let the lie cradle me to sleep?

They fear death like a stranger,
but I swear, I’ve known it before.
Soft. Familiar. Calling me home.

So is it better to speak or to die?
Or was I dead long before I asked?

They say that the truth is a hard thing to take,
but maybe it’s time that we see
that we as a people are nothing but fake,
ensuring that’s how it will be.
 
We stand up demanding there’s tolerance,
doing so with our fists in the air.
It’s truly the oddest dance ever been danced,
hypocrisy beyond compare.
 
We claim we want peace, but we seek the next fight
as we keep our guns close to the door.
Convincing ourselves that we stand for what’s right
when the truth is we’re actually just bored.
 
We say that we want to be free men,
while we ride our past into the ground.
We claim that we run from our demons,
but we really just keep them around.
 
And we live our lives waiting for the next offense,
needing others to kindle the flame.
We’re a common collective without common sense
like the scarecrow not having a brain.
 
So, let’s go on pretending we live for the truth
but the truth is we’re living a lie,
for each soul who actually lives for the truth…
we find a way to crucify.

Stand atop
your                                                            ­                                         dunes
manifested
Dreams
from infallible convictions
Eyes — open
with pretentious ecstasy
Gawking
Your waves — in a waterless sea
Stand
facing the winds
permeating
your pedantic desert
Eyes — water
Assurances — seeping in
Indifferently
ravishing your                                                             ­                      dunes
Lie — buried
The sand’s absolute
Like sediment —
manifestations overlaid
Eyes — close
against the winds righteous pursuits
You wonder
how you missed the direction
whence they came

I’ve stepped again into my old life.
I know it’s nohow and nowhere.
I lived there, yeah, I was there long.
But I don’t pick out it, however.

I keep in mind my love to you.
I lost myself, chucked wildly and fouly.
My life was ruined and I was nowhere.
I swapped myself for you blindly.

I was cheerful for you and gloomy,
Freaky and as a gold itself.
If you wanted, I could be a dummy.
But I’ve never been just myself.

I always was near, but you didn’t sight of.
I left one day, but you returned.
And I’m here again. Again it’s all here!
And what is needless is simply crossed.

I’m like a kitten, blind and lost,
I’m crawling out at sounds or light.
I’ll hide in this life for now perharps
As if I’m not here for quite.

Us All

In hunger, my belly aches,
of clawed darkness, I’m afraid,
to forsee what is to come, I’m blind.
—just a reflection of all else.

On damp paper you may sit,
on thorned cushions someone may,
to the vast universe, insignificant.
—just a reflection of all else.

To linger, is in the hands of time,
but as the rest, home waits as death,
merits mortals with same eyes.
—just a reflection of all else.

Fields of wombs
grown on unsteady soil,
the ides of May, harvested
and cast into the fire.
The brand is seared
into the soul,
yet we scoff and sneer,
while we dangle on the branches
hanging on for our dear lives,
of the same burdened trunk;
of the same root that sired
us all.

—just a reflection of all else.