Cry.
Don’t cry,
Do not hang your head, my neighbors.
You cannot choose when you die,
When your woes are straining,
The careful muffled sound of heartbreak
Of the deep silence of the souls.
A giant **** in his own backyard,
It is “ride or die”.
And you can choose how you die.
And nothing more, and nothing more.
And we’re no more, and we’re no more.
But be alive, alive and only,
Alive and only to the end.
Wind, keep singing for them, do not wane,
And in it, now forever.
Arise, arise now, brother-soldier.
Freedom is never free.

purge my distal digits with the lick of your flame,
the grieve of your bite
a dash of your poison.
you're good at that.

hopefully then,
after the spate runs clear,
i'll stop itching to trace skin i've never even been allowed to
whisper my touch across.

Oft do thoughts trickle through my idle mind.
These plays by the soul is what for it's designed.
Or so thought I. Entertaining the figments
Entertaining, remembering, my soul forments.
Stories I wish never were or at least never
Was ever a part of. But they're mine to keep forever.
Never cherished the light as I did the dark.
When puppies slept and the doggies would bark.
A mouse through the thickets, while she'd move,
Got swooped at once. Death from above.
It was an owl. It didn't hoot. It just killed a mother
But this was for her owlets so ... Necessary ******?
The paradoxes that seem weirdly against what's moral.
Like the tale of the spider in the ******.
I digress far, and the night is passing fast.
Pains of the future, which comes but never lasts.
Sprites from the past which stay and never die.
The long night puts many to sleep but keeps open my eyes.
As my thoughts dwell, the tears swell within my lids.
Intrepid imaginations assault my heart. Courage what it needs.
I think why it is that we hurt and we feel.
The scars asking me, do we ever heal?
Can't help the noise or the silence or the madness.
The grieving soul isn't oblivious of it's vastness.
The scars ask again. Did we ever feel?
The incomplete stories that my heartbeats seal.
Threatening to be revealed with every breath.
Too sharp to be left bare, like a sword in it's sheath.
The tales you sought for me to tell you.
Will only prove your fears come true.
Bones under putrid skin and open sores.
Maggots festering and oozing from the pores.
Dead ones in the open fields, vultures hovering.
Hyenas on the corpses, jeering, devouring.
Jackals eagerly waiting their turn. The aftermath of war.
Grey matter seeping through an eye the bird tore
Out. Dream of war, little soldier, and thus demystify
The mysteries of demise and my lullaby.

we witness things from our frame of minds
but we can never foresee what transpires next,
in view of the fact that life thoroughly shackles us
and takes our souls to the fathomless world.

people ought to seek for answers
though most of the time,
they go missing & empty handed
and will forever remain a mystery unsolved.

like events in our lives that manifests significantly
engraves marks, stains, and wounds of the past,
in a way our minds
would never cease to forget.
— g.c.

Don't call me a volcano,
I don't want to be a volcano!
Sometimes active,
Mostly dormant,
A stiff peak with indigestion,
Birthing igneous isles
across the seas,
Starving for eruption,
Hardening.
Waiting.

Call me a hurricane,
Say it with a tremble.
Never expect me,
Dread my return.
Never dormant,
Always hungry,
Carving my path,
Landmass by landmass,
Conquering, Striding,
Devastating.

Get your facts straight
Before you call me a disaster.

Keep your diary
Full with the stupid **** I've said
and tell me you're too good for it