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Poetic T Feb 27
The lumber jack, was on his way
             home.
Driving through a woodland of
                                creaking trees.

They found his car, the rooftop
                                    crushed..
         gusts of wind blew through
                                     the tree tops...

And the coroner and police officer
                                shuddered
      as
           they gazed at each other..

Is it me or does the wind blowing
             through the leaves sound like

                                                 laughter..

And with that another branch fell
upon the already mangled wreckage..

             They had to make sure he was
                                  really felled,
                            there was no warning.

And as the breeze continued the noise
                turned to screams, whistling
                                                 around the pair..

Both cars where found later on
                                               the next afternoon..
                 hundreds of meters from each other with..

                                         Buckled rooftops..

Even there was no wind, the rustling leaves
                               sounded like far away laughter..
                                and the group just looked in confusion.
They where outnumbered and didn't even realise it.
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Feast your eyes upon all the
                                       mangled
                                                twitching
                                                            bodi­es

trapped in the grills of fat and
                                                        brown
                                                              pa­ckage
                                                           ­         trucks

so far away from the idyllic blades of
                                                                ­ green
                                                                ­        and
                                                                ­           sun

crossing ***-hole asphalted rivers where
                                                               alligators
                                                                ­        speed
                                                                ­            amuck

We all get hurt crossing seemingly
                                                       empty
                                                           perilous
                                                        ­           streets

and end up in some wolf-dressed-as-sheep
                                                                ­    machine's
                                                                ­               sharp
                                                                ­                     teeth

are we different from the insects
                                                 roaming
                                                              on­
                                                            inst­inct?

If only you could wiggle your body more to the side
but the alligator never slows and the wind is a bonafide
                                           bully.                                              
At least I can see whats ahead, might as well enjoy the ride.
Isaac Aug 2018
Life is so brutal
It mangles the heart
Beaten and bruised
From the very start
In a world fallen
From its original glory
We need to bring Jesus
Back to the story
His voice will heal
And mend your soul
If you give him the time
He can make you whole
Each day is a chance
To let him touch you
If you open your heart
His words will renew
Written 12 August 2018

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