No words can voice my fears untold,
and anger at this stubborn land;
its people hide inside their worlds,
and blind their eyes from where they stand.

We stand upon a precipice,
of all that we now hold beloved:
a living earth to give our youth,
and conscience for the least unloved.

A moral compass, this we lack.
We twist our world to what we want,
befitting all our selfish needs,
and blind our eyes to that which counts.

No words I write can turn our hearts,
alas, this must come from within,
for each must lift the blinding cloak,
and look beyond our sightless skins.

Raised on the crumpled fairytales and dreams of fractured youth,
left nothing to believe in and little else to do,
but cast the past into its hell and banish memory’s hold,
into the fiery pit of growth that purified my soul.

I think of times when hope was lost and blindness filled my days;
when darkness colored everything and filled my life with grey;
where fairies found in fairytales were buried where they died,
and weakened wills were crushed to dust and vanished with the lies.

But now the dust is washed away, and life is largely gone,
that bedrock, now left found exposed, is made of solid ground.
Amidst the hopes and dreams of youth, tales set my mind ablaze,
I sense these wild imaginings were meant to lift my days.

Throughout my life I’ve always thought my dreams eluded me,
and lies were told, in years of old, to quiet me to sleep,
But through the ever changing years, these tales unlocked a door,
for dreams were told to give my mind creative wings to soar.

Autumn falls quietly in the north,
creeping over gardens and woods
as it kisses the leaves in vermilion and ochre
catching blossoms in mid-bloom.

The shadows of September grow long,
over fields and landscapes,
as their stark contrast reminds all
of the frigid months to come.

Butterflies flit noiselessly about
from flower to flower lighting briefly,
in their search of nectar,
drinking in the remaining harvest of the season.

A soft breeze rustles through the leaves,
bringing a shiver to my shoulders,
as a solitary leaf floats gently down beside me;
a brief wave to fall.

Clothing tattered, they come,
hungry for freedom and food.
Beaten down by oppression and hate
they cry for freedom.

They come by the thousands,
on foot over uncounted miles,
yet we turn them away,
as they cry for food.

Sick and worn, they arrive.
Torn from friends and family,
caged like animals.
They cry for compassion.

They die awaiting relief,
as hope wains across our land.
We ignore their plea,
as children cry for justice.

We all await the return of
conscience and compassion,
and grow weary as time wears on
and we cry…

Wrapped in my anger and hidden in pain,
my heart beats in silence, with blinding distain,
for the lack of compassion we show for mankind,
and our thrashing of earth, what we’re leaving behind.

As we selfishly use and neglect to replace,
and cull certain races like they're human waste,
in our selfish pursuit of more riches and power,
as we leave life on earth and our future here dour.

Our waters like sewage, our oceans are dying,
it’s past time for talking and time to start working,
for something apart from just serving up words,
and find a solution that works for the world.

So, gone are the days when I’ve held it inside,
and have damaged myself and my health while I hide.
From the ugliness, cruelty, the human neglect,
and the way that we misuse and all that we’ve wrecked.

For now I believe I must write how I think,
to be true to myself and the world on the brink.
To paint with my words or in stark artwork plea,
that will open the eyes of those willing to see.

For what I have learned in my time on our earth,
our world will always be at war with itself,
unless we all learn to respect one another;
treat neighbors like brothers and earth like our mother.

I’ve always dreamt of living life,
outside the bounds of everyday,
and break my insignificance:
a nameless child, amidst the fray.

I dreamt of lands beyond my reach,
I’d only read in far-off tales,
and made a promise to myself,
to reach beyond my choking veil.

To make my hidden dreams come true,
my path was never lined with gold,
and many days were wrapped in tears,
with pain and wounds within my soul.

But I’ve been blessed with unseen joys,
that few will ever know or see,
and now I know the price I’ve paid,
was worth the cost to set me free.

Now in the autumn of my days,
my silent self from inside seeps,
and finds its voice clothed in my words,
from deep within my soul it speaks.

Each word I write comes with a prayer.
to move all those who chance to read,
and start them on their lifetime quest;
to choose a well-lived life to lead.

I cry inside my silent world
and beg to find a lesser pain;
a pain that can be reconciled
with thoughts of love of self, contained.

The outside world is raging still...
We stumble yet to find our way
and fall unto a darkened path,  
while those we love are led astray.

I close my door once more to hide;
to block the sounds that I recall.
Amidst the ghosts of days gone by
and secrets that we bury, all.

How foolish to believe I’ve healed!
But yet my skin is crawling still,
as I recall the years gone past,
the pain and grief come raging back.

So I stay inside my placid home,
deplete of all who cause me pain,
to find the peace I long to have
and hope for life without the rain.