#penalty
I'm wonerding endlessly
Across a field of my past
My mind out of time and energy
Losing what was to last
Openly accepting my penalty
So here I was cast
To lose my every memory
Jul 4, 2025
Jul 4, 2025 at 11:25 PM UTC
On August 8, 2017,
by the Gregorian calendar,
the weather in Chicago was awesome, totally chill.
Dusk was settling in.
Night was taking over from day.
A cool breeze carried lake moisture,
filling everything from edge to edge.
Trees rustled their leaves like crumpled paper.
Over the horizon, near a Target store,
the sun faded, slowly dipping out of sight—
darkness was creeping in to take its place.
A black squirrel darted across the lawn by the park entrance.
A bit deeper in, down in a ravine thick with wild berry bushes,
a small, timid bunny hid.
By the dumpster, fenced in with wooden slats,
a sneaky raccoon was loitering with nothing to do.
At the intersection, by the traffic light pole,
someone’s engine screeched and sped off.
Like I said, it was getting dark everywhere—
night was rolling in.
Right then, Oliver, the cat,
leaped onto the wooden fence,
plopped down, letting his cocky tail dangle,
twitched his whiskers, and stared at the sky.
A full moon hung up there.
Oliver squinted,
opened his mouth wide,
and swallowed it whole!
In the woods, not far from the city,
wolves looked up and froze in shock.
“How are we supposed to howl at the moon,” they said,
“if it’s not there where it’s supposed to be?”
They huddled up,
sighing and grumbling,
then wrote a notice
and pinned it to every pine tree:
-------------------
Whoever brings back the moon
and teaches that cat a lesson,
we’ll give you some chickens
swiped from Old Man Johnson’s farm.
We’ve done this before, no scam here.
Look, we’re attaching
feathers from the chickens we nabbed
to prove we mean business.
The Wolves
P.S. Need eggs? Talk to Frankie the ferret.
He’s always sniffing around Johnson’s farm like he owns the place,
sneaks into the coop weeknights from 10 p.m. till dawn,
and comes highly recommended by Rusty the fox!
The chaos that followed was unreal!
Word of this spread like wildfire across the globe!
It got so bad you couldn’t step outside—
every passerby was trying to nab a cat, any cat,
to trade with the wolves for a couple of stolen chickens.
Who knows how this madness would’ve ended
if the U.S. government hadn’t stepped in?
They sent the cops after Oliver,
cuffed his paws,
locked him in a glass cage,
and shipped him off to The Hague
to face an international tribunal as a criminal mastermind.
In The Hague, they grilled Oliver for a whole year,
then finally set a trial date,
inviting every Tom, **** and Harry to show up.
They assigned him a lawyer—Sly Fox.
Judges in black robes sat smugly at the bench.
Guards with rifles hauled in Oliver’s cage.
The prosecutor, defense, and jury took their seats.
The prosecutor spoke first.
Prosecutor:
Oliver the cat is a clear and present danger to society.
He’s charged with stealing the moon!
His entire life led up to this heinous crime.
I’m sure everyone’s dying to hear his story.
Sly Fox:
Objection!
Oliver’s past has nothing to do with this case.
Judge:
Overruled.
Prosecutor:
The defendant was born into an average family.
Nothing hinted he’d turn into a ****
At his baptism, they named him Oliver.
He was a sweet, cuddly kitten, went to school,
acted like a good little Christian.
But that didn’t last long—just a few months.
Soon, girls and their parents started complaining.
He couldn’t keep his paws to himself!
The school kicked him out, his mom gave up on him,
and nobody’s ever seen his dad.
At night, he turned to petty street crime,
and by day, he was hustling:
scavenging city dumpsters for food scraps
and selling them as “gourmet imports” wherever he could.
From a young age, he showed a knack for shady leadership!
Instead of doing his civic duty—catching mice—
he teamed up with them.
Under his command, gangs of ten to fifteen mice
ambushed lone women at bus stops,
and Oliver made off with their purses.
Tons of cell phones, makeup, and credit cards passed through his paws.
When he tried cashing out one of those cards,
he got caught
and sent to a reform shelter—basically juvie.
Think he turned his life around there?
Fat chance!
In the shelter, he converted to Islam!
Nothing wrong with that,
but he only did it to blend in with the other inmates,
who were mostly Muslim.
He gained their trust,
then started corrupting them—selling them bacon,
smuggled in by his mouse cronies from the outside!
Thanks to his cute face and fluffy tail,
Oliver didn’t stay locked up long.
A girl named Annie adopted him,
falling for his meows and purrs.
At first, he planned to bolt,
but then figured he could run his scams better
as a “well-mannered house cat.”
Without telling his shelter buddies,
Oliver converted to Judaism—playing the Jewish card to expand his market.
Soon, he trademarked “NOT-BACON,”
and his sales skyrocketed.
When he diversified his dumpster menu
and started frying bacon (dyed with stolen makeup),
his business blew up.
His little gang soon became
an international crime syndicate!
Oliver got canadian citizenship
and started jet-setting like a maniac!
He made two trips to Mecca,
snapped a selfie with the Dalai Lama,
lit a greasy candle at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem,
and was spotted in the Vatican three times!
There, he rubbed against a few cardinals’ legs
and licked the Pope’s hand.
Soon, Oliver’s business interests turned political.
He funneled money into every party and movement,
yowling loudest at both pro- and anti- rallies.
Among other things, he was seen in Ukraine’s Donbas region,
fighting in the conflict—
nobody could pin down which side,
probably both.
And last summer, he was vacationing in Miami!
What a ****
In every city he passed through,
he conned his way into marriages!
Look at his wives and kids—
they’re in the front row, crying and begging for help!
He doesn’t pay a dime in child support, despite his wealth!
And to top it all off,
in August 2017,
with the help of Squirrel Sally as a lookout
and Raccoon Ricky keeping watch,
Oliver climbed onto the dumpster fence in his backyard
and ATE THE MOON!
We still haven’t figured out the bunny’s role in this crime ring.
Nobody’s seen him.
Oliver needs to be locked up for good—or worse.
Judge:
I’ll now give the floor to the defendant’s attorney, Sly Fox.
Sly Fox:
Oliver should walk free!
The moon just fell into his mouth when he yawned.
He’s not a criminal—he’s a victim!
He nearly choked!
He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
It happens to everyone.
Come on, he couldn’t have been where he wasn’t supposed to be.
There’s nothing to discuss.
Oh, and by the way—he’s not a cat, he’s a she-cat.
Those kids? Not his.
This trial should be thrown out
because the charges are nonsense.
Here’s his statement
demanding a gender change.
We can’t let the global elite
trample on the rights of those who are different!
No to injustice!
(The courtroom erupted, chanting:
“Free Lady Oliver!”)
Judge:
Please, settle down.
Prosecutor:
To prove this crime,
we reached out to the global scientific community.
Sadly, most bailed:
Hawking pleaded disability,
Dawkins said he was too busy,
Perelman played dumb to dodge us,
Geim and Novoselov told us to get lost,
Feynman reminded us he’s been dead for years.
Only Neil deGrasse Tyson stepped up—
he said, “Sure, why not?”
So, I’m thrilled to give him the floor.
Neil deGrasse Tyson:
Ladies and gentlemen, this is…
a total mess!
I hate to break it to you—
trust me, I’m not thrilled about this—
YOU’RE ALL NUTS!
I’ve been saying this for years,
on the internet, on radio, on TV:
GOD DOESN’T EXIST!
HE’S NOT REAL!
It’s scientifically proven.
Stop kidding yourselves!
(A court assistant hands Tyson a scrap of paper.)
—Oh, my bad, looks like I’m here for something else.
Let’s see… “August eighth…” hmm… “in a ravine…”
Nah, we can skip that.
What’s with the bunny, squirrel, and raccoon?
Oh, here we go:
“…ate the moon while sitting on a fence.”
What a tragedy.
So, what do you want from me?
Prosecutor:
We’d like you to tell us what happened to the moon.
Tyson:
To who?
Prosecutor:
The moon.
Tyson:
Ohhh, the moon! Got it.
It’s gone.
Sly Fox:
Is there scientific evidence for this?
Tyson:
Weird question. There’s tons.
Here’s one example:
On the evening of August 8, 2017,
the weather was perfect.
I was chilling on my porch,
sipping a beer, nice and slow.
I decided to check out the moon through my refractor telescope.
The moon was just a few meters from perigee,
hanging out between Sagittarius and Aquarius,
all cratered up, covered in regolith.
Its librations were normal, within the tilt of its orbit.
Everything was standard, beautiful.
Then I ran out of beer,
so I stepped away from the eyepiece,
went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerating gizmo,
grabbed another bottle,
threw on a robe on my way back—
it was getting dark and chilly, and I was just in my boxers.
I look through the telescope again—
and I see whiskers in the sky!
Where the moon was just a second ago,
there’s a hole, and I can see the stars it was blocking.
I logged everything meticulously
and sent my observations
to the global astronomical community.
Sly Fox:
Did you get a response?
Tyson:
Nah.
But I didn’t ask for one…
Judge:
Do you believe the cat ate the moon?
Tyson:
Well…
That’s completely impossible.
You see…
The mass difference…
How do I explain this simply?
Cat’s tiny. Moon’s huge.
Prosecutor:
But you saw WHISKERS!
Tyson:
Yup, I did.
But I can’t give you a scientific explanation for that.
Prosecutor:
Your Honor, esteemed jurors!
Anticipating these difficulties,
our investigators decided to help science out
and present undeniable proof of the crime,
so no one’s left with any doubts.
Take a look at this X-ray of the cat.
(Shows X-ray image of Oliver.)
Look closely at his stomach.
As you can see, the moon’s sitting comfortably inside.
And get this—
there’s still plenty of room in there.
Oh, and it’s already a third digested.
Judge (to Tyson):
What do you make of this?
Tyson:
Well, yeah,
that looks pretty convincing.
And the cat looks… alive.
Can I go home now?
Judge:
Sure, go ahead.
Bet there’s still plenty of beer in your fridge—
I mean, refrigeration unit.
(Chuckles.)
Just a joke, sorry.
(To the courtroom):
Alright, we’ve heard from the defense and prosecution.
Now, I’m calling for FINAL ARGUMENTS
from both sides,
where there’s no chance for truce or reconciliation!
I summon Donald Trump!
Donald Trump (striding forward):
The moon is the property of ALL American people. Sorry!
No debate needed!
I promise to bring it back. I’ll handle it.
If the moon shows up again—and I’ve always liked it—
I’m not giving it to anybody.
I’ll eat it myself.
Half the American delegation
erupted in wild cheers,
while the other half stayed quiet,
shaking their heads in disapproval.
Trump:
The moon theft is a national disgrace.
It happened under the previous administration—
let their leader explain himself.
I’m passing the mic to Barack Obama.
Obama:
Good afternoon, thanks for having me.
The moon is the result of humanity’s collective efforts.
Its disappearance is a horrific crime.
This is unacceptable.
We can’t let it slide.
We must all unite to ensure this never happens again.
That’s my stance.
This time, the other half of the American delegation
burst into thunderous applause.
Though the half that cheered for Trump
hissed and stomped in disapproval.
With that, the arguments wrapped up.
The judges stepped out to draft their guilty verdict
but returned quickly—
it was all crystal clear to them.
The head judge cleared his throat and began reading the verdict.
Judge:
The cat is guilty on all counts. He’s a THIEF!
The cat is sentenced to death by hanging,
while strapped to an electric chair
hooked up to high voltage.
Given the notorious resilience of cats,
the following measures must also be strictly enforced:
A lethal injection—er, shot—into his paw,
and three soldier-executioners will fire four bullets each
from Heckler & Koch ****** rifles
to ensure the cat finally croaks.
No mercy for this cat! As they say, tough luck!
Justice doesn’t tolerate mockery.
Considering other circumstances,
the cat is also ordered to pay massive compensation
and undergo gender reassignment surgery.
He’s owed an apology—
which he’ll receive while serving a life sentence
in the courtroom…
—Uh, no, sorry—
While serving a life sentence. Period.
—In the courtroom…
—Pardon, what a mess.
I think I mixed up the pages.
(To his assistant)
Is this right?
(Adjusts glasses and continues reading.)
In the courtroom,
he must be immediately released—
so he doesn’t suffer,
and everyone walks away happy.
(Looks up at the room.)
I hope I didn’t skip anything and read it all.
Since the points of this verdict
contradict each other,
they should be carried out in any order.
The form doesn’t matter—it’s the substance that counts.
You can’t fool Justice.
Don’t take us for fools, and we won’t take anyone else for fools.
The goal is to restore fairness and punish evil.
I’m confident we’ve punished and restored,
even if it took tremendous effort.
Long live the adversarial judicial process!
The cat, as they say, is toast—because the moon’s no mouse.
Everyone turned to look at Oliver’s cage—
but THE CAT WAS GONE.
The guards, armed with rifles and pistols,
rolled their eyes in confusion, muttering into their radios,
as if asking someone how this could’ve happened,
but no answers came.
Meanwhile, Sly Fox, the lawyer,
slipped through the crowd of spectators toward the exit
and hasn’t been seen since.
From the start, he’d figured
this case was a lost cause and Oliver had gone too far.
So, keeping his cool,
he decided
to bribe the guards with Bitcoin,
so they’d act all shocked and bewildered
while letting Oliver slip out of the courtroom.
At first, the guards were outraged by the offer.
“Stealing the moon is a heinous crime!” they said.
“People are suffering! We’re not letting this cat go, no way!”
But Sly Fox countered their objections:
“You won’t get in any trouble for this!”
And just like that, they agreed.
And, true enough, they faced no consequences.
As for Oliver, he bolted out of the courthouse,
called an Uber, zipped to the airport,
snuck into the luggage compartment of a plane,
wormed his way into the cockpit,
hopped into the pilot’s seat, fired up the engines,
deployed the ***** and all the fancy gizmos,
and flew back home to Chicago to his owner, ANNIE!!!
--------------------------------------------
Little Annie, smart and sweet!
Go to sleep, it’s dark outside.
Mom’s getting mad, she’s had enough—
tucking us in’s no fun anymore.
Hop into bed, make a cozy little nest!
Look—out the window, past the curtains,
see the moon floating above the horizon?
Well, that moon—it’s NOT REAL.
It’s staring at us, all suspicious-like!
NASA engineers painted it on
a plaster ball, coated with shiny paint,
and launched it into orbit by Ken Harris.
Every kid from Mississippi to the Yukon knows it.
Every parent, every scientist—
Einstein, Galileo,
Every teacher, every critter in the woods—
bunnies, raccoons, even that smug squirrel,
Every boy and girl, every politician, every judge — all know it.
You and I know it -
that the real moon—
the one that blazed in the night sky,
the one that lit up the world—
well, last August,
right between sunset and sunrise,
in front of everyone and everywhere,
with his big mouth wide open, -
IT WAS GULPED BY OLIVER THE CAT.
There he is, lounging on the chair, licking his chops, the charmer—
purring and smacking like a pro.
Be careful with him: give him a finger,
and he’ll chomp your arm up to the elbow.
But don’t blame him. He’s just a cat,
not one to fret over boring morals.
When something floats right into your jaws,
it’s hard to say no.
I’m no different—I grab what I can,
hold tight to what I snag,
and I’m not throwing stones at that cat,
lest they come flying back.
I’m drifting off with you, not thinking of a thing,
already half-asleep, unsure of what’s what:
is it night finally chasing day away,
or day swapping places with night?
I’m stumbling through this sleepy haze,
can’t make sense of it all—
did Oliver really gobble up the moon,
or did the moon swallow us all?
And now, tilting its head just a bit,
it gazes down, full and satisfied, on the sleeping city.
Sleep now, my little bug, I love you
because I’m REAL.
We’ll snooze, we’ll lounge,
wake up tomorrow and have some fun,
play with the stolen sunlight,
say a prayer, make up with friends,
then change our minds and bicker,
rejoice in life—
because it’s OURS,
and we’ll shout it loud—IT’S HERE!
Look, the Creator’s got the whole sky held hostage:
where’d He swipe all this for our sake?
So let’s thank Him for the light, the water,
for our daily bread, for Wi-Fi,
for what we have and what we don’t,
for the tiniest sliver
of what’s left of the moon,
for the dark of night, for the blue of the sky,
for the gifts of life, for the losses of death,
for the pile of temptations and trials.
Let’s thank Him for it all.
Amen.
And for that sly cat, too—
who we’ll scratch behind the ears, shake a fist at, sigh over,
and then, finally, go to bed.
How much more of this nonsense can we take?
This story’s worn me out.
School’s tomorrow.
GOOD NIGHT!
May 10, 2025
May 10, 2025 at 1:19 AM UTC
I mean, it's kinda funny
The punishment for life is the death penalty, that's literally the only true guarantee
Alterations void the warranty and there's no return policy, which I guess if fine honestly
But you can only rotate the tires so many times before it no longer matters
A crash will become eminent and just like the windshield, your future also shatters
No one's looking for a clock with a erratic tick and a broken tock
A polished **** advertised with a tiny sign as a shiny rock
Occasionally found screaming at nothing as frustration fills the body and muddies the mind
A full breakdown, stuck behind a roadblock, this time one of your own design
Trained by history to take every word heard with a pinch of salt
Cold and bitter, but is it by default?
Is it truly all my fault?
...why was I in such a hurry to be an adult...?
I'm gonna go make a fort and sort this all out
©2024
Mar 1, 2024
Mar 1, 2024 at 8:17 PM UTC
We are all hiding something aren't we?
Let's be fair
From the moment we wake and look in that mirror
We rush to change what we first see there
All we do is spin our little lies
**** in that gut,
Color that hair,
Twist off that wedding ring,
Pretend to not care
And why not?
What's the penalty?
What are the consequences, really?
All is forgiven when you start usin' the phrase
"I'm only human"
But what if the cruel hand of fate twists you into something different then what you've been?
Into that undesirable other
Who, if anyone, will forgive you then?
©2024
Jan 10, 2024
Jan 10, 2024 at 5:18 PM UTC
Your water's drying
Your life is in the cup
Your trees are dying
Your wildlife's locked up
You're in the zoo man...
When will you wake up?
How do you feel about it?
Do you accept and submit,
Throw in the towel and quit,
Or turn humbly to God and
With a heart of contrition
Ask Him to to be forgiven
Repenting for and turning from
The sin that was our own decision
Through the ultimate sacrifice,
Jesus Christ was crucified
He paid the cost of our sinful life
With His bloodshed He became The Way
That us sinners when we died
With Him, we died to sin
Three days later when He rose again
He defeated death, the wages of our sin.
Trust in Him He's the Solid Rock
On His firm foundation
We have sure salvation.
Through Jesus Christ !
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
I heard a laugh.
Small, yet deep.
It shook my my heart,
It made me weep.
I heard a shriek.
Shrill and loud,
Never had I heard
Such a terrible sound.
My head it shook.
My ears did bleed.
I fell to my knees,
I started to plead.
I screamed. I trembled.
Both did no good.
For still the man came.
With his axe, with his hood.
Then all sound stopped.
And my head it came clear.
With my thick thoughts,
Went all of my fear.
My tears ceased, and with a grunt,
My death swung his blade.
Thunk. Plop.
In the basket my head laid.
eyes wide
A maniacal smile.
Covered,
As other heads piled.
Aug 4, 2021
Aug 4, 2021 at 12:03 AM UTC
Kingdoms more,
Kingdoms sore
Passing the guards—
Like busting bars
Riddles compact— From the numbers,— Etched in Hollow Blocks
The fact of goners—
Hit the doors,— and punch the backs— In hied, to navigate the tracks—
To boost out— Parts.
Steep lands embed this twisted wanderer—
Aches the leaves and humps— Pushing to slouch
As I beg the ground— Not to pound—
For the planes to switch rounds.
Offsprings declined the measures— of luxuriant wands
The caverns feed the infant's boredom
Does hold the dome—
For loitering dogs
An insatiable ****
That climbs for ripe fruits—
And wildly shouts— The beggar's principles
Here and there— Values— Then eats apples.
The weathering turned the rocks to dust
I must— crumple my tasks
Ah, the shallows..
On search for walloped hearts— Of shortened wage;— Of weak grips
Oh, I thirst for distance
Lay down barks! Lay down!
**** the shallows!
God, oh God,—
Is this the penalty for swindling clemency?—
Just crumbs..
Just crumbs..
For open mouths..
Oh, why they broke it?
Face down,— I crawl to this warmth
They fade..
So I kneel for a while— With curved points— To the unknown shore
What beauty relies from there?
I am bandaged by whipped words
Tell the pending men— Of my bare tense..
Sigh and sigh..
The sand and seaweeds
Caressing the voyager's rest
Refresh the bonds of East and West—
From the rise and fall— Of Sailors' flow
Collide the surfers— With tentacles of Immortality!
The commands of Tides—
Emerge a Hurricane— to blow its treasures— with the Strakes!
Alas, the whales jump—
Splashing with the crystals
I know now..
The vast,— This is my Wealth— My True Luxury
My Kingdom calls me..
I shall embrace my prize..
I swim the bottomless Abyss..
They landed on my spot—
With only slacks on sand—
And the surface reads—
"Hah, I'm Rich Now!"
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 3:16 AM UTC
With leather clad hands
and old plastic sheets
he makes up the reasons
for the people he meets.
They'll feel nothing's wrong
for he sings a sweet song
where false promises are made
with a smile from a blade.
And on a cold knife night
he'll extinguish their light
as they struggle for air,
for their pain
is longer than
the chair.
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 1:23 AM UTC
am i not . ..
. .... .
allowed
.. .. ...
to love .. ...
... without
...
...... consequence?
..
...
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 6:51 AM UTC
Apology Not Accepted
Last meal, last drink, last walk, last breath.
This is real and I am content with this end.
For taking her life I am sentenced to death.
Perhaps this will help her children mend.
So long ago yet I still recall every detail.
I know what day it was and the time on the clock.
I was following the tracks determined to ride the rails.
The woman said she was just taking a walk.
I remember her eyes were bloodshot and wet.
I expressed concern for the bruises present.
Her head spun to face me, her eyes heated and set.
She scolded me for speaking of something so unpleasant.
Her body became tense and then relaxed completely.
She stared at the tracks as the train came into view.
Her eyes softened and she turned to me smiling sweetly.
She apologized and asked that I forgive what she was about to do.
Confused I asked why she was asking me to forgive her.
She laughed, said for the image sure to stay in your mind.
My eyes met hers and I felt something inside me stir.
She thanked me for being so concerned and kind.
As she turned her hands came together in prayer.
Seconds later she stepped in front of the train.
Stunned all I could do was stand there and stare.
Her body ripped apart and blood fell like rain.
A witness said I pushed her into the train's path.
The distance between us prevented a different end.
If I could have reached her I would have known her wrath.
However to remove the image left in me I pretend.
I spoke only on the moments leading up to the witnesses lie.
My life was empty and I was craving a way to get away from me.
This is a relief from the images implanted in my minds eye.
I am not guilty of killing her yet I welcome the end of eyes that see.
Becky Jo Gibson
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 5:39 AM UTC
If we all tried and did something good each day
we would then help to keep so much evil at bay.
And in the world there would be a lot less crime
and so people would not have to do penalty time.
The same can be said about the telling of lies
that are deceptive which most people despise.
Because no one really likes to know they've been deceived
especially after being told something false that is believed.
This raises those related issues of virtue and vice
or conduct of what is or isn't regarded to be nice.
The laws of the state are to be followed as a guide
by all the people who are by them otherwise tried.
If found to have transgressed in a particular way
that did not conform to a specific law of the day.
There's usually someone about who sounds the alarm
when a member of society is suspected of doing harm.
And when the offender is apprehended and brought to trial
they have to plead their case before a judge without a smile.
If the evidence against them is too strong to acquit them of the charge
they'll have to pay the penalty imposed or forfeit their freedom at large.
This may be a fine to be paid or period spent confined behind bars
where the person convicted is placed and from society kept afar.
But if they're acquitted of the charge in court and allowed to go free
they'll be satisfied with the justice system which tried and let them be.
This is sometimes the situation regardless of the suspect being really guilty or innocent
and doesn't praise or say much of the law when the verdict handed down is too lenient.
That is why when worldly human justice falls short or doesn’t rightly prevail
what's known as Divine justice will eventually step in and recompense entail.
___________________________________
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
Seeing into oblivion:
She sits silent nervously looking at the clock,
As seconds move as if no time moves at all.
Pausing she breathes and her eyes flicker
Around the colorless walls seeing strangers silent.
The window of her viewing lies empty awaiting
Its guest of only moments breath leaking away.
She looks at the contours of what will be justice
In her eyes for what isolated her in these lonely thoughts.
She hears whispers of others speculation, trying
So hard not too hear the ideas of others. So not
To contaminate her thinking of what is about to
Happen, she sees a vision of him smiling then blinks.
A door stretches into the room as a figure greats
What will deplete his moments as they drip away.
He looks forward only seeing the looking glass, she
Watches him walk and a tear cascades downwards.
A short walk takes along time:
He had asked for so few things for his last meal,
Thoughts of what difference does it make when
He walks all will taste as silence. He recollects his
Awaking to what is about to happens and sighs.
*"Come on one more drink,*
"Ok then just one,
Those words haunt him now "One, how could
Such a small number bring so much to this
Conclusion of what he is. One man, one second
Then life changed, waking handcuffed to an ER bed.
Flashing imagery goes through like a scratched DVD
replaying that imagery over and over again. He shudders
At what had happened, moving then motionless screams
Then silence. Never seeing them, thinking it a lucid dream.
But here he sits chains adorn him, as his final walk is
Granted, the pastor prays with him. A tear falls where
Many have fallen numerous times before. He adds his
Legacy where others will sit and tears fall more.
Eyes stare but only one sees a reflection:
His legs tremble, but noting is seen, he composes
Himself in each step. One foot in front of another
So few are left. He sees himself, head shaven features
Withdrawn he pauses then lies shaking slightly more.
She sees him staring into his own observation of self,
He stares wondering of whom stares back then all
Is revealed as curtains are exhumed and those now
See each and their is a brief pause then silence.
A droplet steals breath:
He sees her as he I restrained a tear of regret falls, she
Just stares and sees her husband now silent. She looks
Away and he just lingers in that moment, a final word
Is spoken a last request of consonance thought.
*"I made one mistake, I cant take it back,*
*I am sorry for what one moment caused,*
"I leave here with only regrets left in my place,
She sits silently as the life in that which lies before
Her ceases and she sits silently. She holds her hand
To her chest and grasps gently on to a ring. One that
Was taken from her, but now can finally in peace rest.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC
What if the biggest rush in life is taking your last breath
Having everything flow through you
And out
All your memories suddenly start to play a movie on fast forward with people dancing across the projector of your mind
It must be a lovely sight
But then afterwords come
People all the sudden pretending to know you
Said they talked to you
They will dress up in pretty black laced dresses and the men will be wearing nice button down shirts with suits
It's a nice costume
there will be hundreds at your funeral
But you will only know a few
Funny how people start listing when your dead for many will speak about your jokes as if they found them interesting
Study them for a underlying meaning
Missing the pun completely
Because once you have gone extinct
People start to see you as a specimen rather than a person
And sometimes I am convinced it'll be easier
To greet death when you see everyone in your life slowly turn green
Including yourself
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
The reaper's eyes were on her,
Yet she never bowed.
The reaper's ax chose her,
Yet she never soughed.
Death was finally in love,
With the girl he could never cow,
For she was something he could never have,
A girl with a skin too firm to swallow.
Why couldn't he touch the girl,.
The girl whose tears never fell,
The girl whose eyes are pearl,
The girl whose voice is a shim of bell?
Her secret wasn't a mystery,
She was too pure to be touched by maleficence.
The reaper desired her for her rarity,
But his hands burned at the touch of virtuousness.
Death chased her everyday,
In the hopes of taking her soul,
But her soul was too far away,
Far away for him to hold.
The young maiden didn't even notice
The harvester at her tail.
She was too involved in lightness
For her to witness his veil.
The reaper's ax was rotting,
It was yearning blood,
Though who he was lusting,
Was nothing but an illusion set by god.
The girl was a mirage,
God's own penalty,
Towards the slayer,
That gave birth to misery.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 6:38 AM UTC
Everytime someone helps me or offers me something
I build up feelings of guilt and obligation and
I feel ashamed by disappointing the ones
which were nice to me before.
But in reality there is no debt, no obligation at all.
There are only decisions, decisions if you want to be obligated.
Forced upon you by yourself and the principles
you want to stay true in your life.
Do I follow my love? Do I follow my belief?
It's you, who decides, nobody else.
As it is your choice, as it is your responsibility,
shaping up the life you will have,
shaping up the life you will show.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 5:09 AM UTC