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Sound of waves crushing on the shore
Thousand seagulls screaming
Foam on the sand grains
Ans again, no marks left

The only the marks that it really like
Shown after the storm
when it retch them out to sand :
Sea shells, ships Fractures,
Bone white logs to...

It play with the winds
Or the winds play with the waves
My feet sinking in the wet sand
The grains caress my toes
Today I play with the ripples on the shore

Salt dried on my face
Mixed with the salt of my own body
From the windows of my soul
It's answer to the swells
Like a forgotten memory to time
that we came from the water

Worn thin my heart can't take no more.
The tears I've cried the sorrow i feel the pain inside.
Stretched impossibly thin i feel like I'm dying inside.
I hear the ticking of time passing,
I hear chips coming off my mortal coil.
My soul aches for release from confines worn thin.
All that remains is a grey husk a shell worn thin by life's endeavors.
Dark clouds loom over the horizon i guess it's destiny's call.
I stand looking in the mirror looking at the shattered remains of a strong will worn thin.
Maybe life isn't for me anymore i don't know who i am anymore.
I fear for the selfish pain the relentless tragedy,
The uncharted deception it has worn me thin.
My perception is altered my sense of self worth blurred, I can't decipher myself.
Constructed Illusion of that which is worn thin does not belong on this earthly plane.

Written 28th June 2014 By Kelly O'Hara.

Drawing near the end of days
The zealots, in a mindless craze
Hear their God, they heap with praise
Call all the "others" no more than strays

Instructed to exact the pain
Till all the rest have all been slain
Rewarded with virgins
With whom they will lay
Bathing in pleasure
Beyond the last day

Then there's the other group
So caught up in the hate
So sure that their enemies
Have sealed their fate

That they have not read
The other camps book
So, will witness the Hell
When the time comes to look

Their God is the greatest
Each side is so sure
They will be chosen
Their word is more pure

Yet the word was not written
By a God, but a man
So full in his ignorance
Not lacking elan
In a time of no Knowledge
Consideration, or Care
When thunder brought anger
From gods through the air

The key to remember
Only knowledge holds truth
We must cast off the faith
No understanding without proof

DEMOCRACY-PLUTOCRACY-BUREAUCRACY



OUR DESIRE TO HAVE A DEMOCRACY
HAS VEERED TOWARD A FETID PLUTOCRACY
AND I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKIN'
IT'S THE MONEY THAT'S STINKIN'
IN THE POCKETS OF OUR "ELECTED" BUREAUCRACY

I'M LOOKING
FOR WHAT EVERYBODY IS LOOKING FOR
AN OPPORTUNITY
TO BE DEVOTED TO SOMEONE
THROUGH THE CLOUDS AND DRIZZLE
TOGETHER
REFLECTING ONE OF THE SCATTERED BEAMS OF LIGHT
THAT PIERCES THE DARKENED CANOPY
AT THE END OF THE STORM

TO LAY AMONG GERBERA
IN RED, LAVENDER, FUSCIA
AND OTHER COLORS, PAINTED
AN OPPORTUNITY
TO EVOKE NATURES INSPIRATION
SO RARELY MANIFESTED IN THE HUMAN FORM

AWARE OF THE DEVOTION OF ANOTHER
JOYOUS AT HAVING BEEN GIVEN
AN OPPORTUNITY
TO EXPERIENCE THE STREAM
AND TO FLOW IN IT
WITH YOU