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Oct 2019 · 266
If I Could Fly
Waldo Oct 2019
If I could grow a pair of feathered wings
I’d flap ‘em clear to mid next spring
Across icy skies and frosted clouds
I’d flutter past the city crowds
To the mountain peaks and fields of green
Where the air is crisp and the waters clean
I’d float down on Shoshone land
And let those wings erode to sand

If I could wave my arms and fly away
I’d wave and wave till summer days
I’d soar beyond asphalt and steel
To prairie grass and rains that heal
I’d fly towards those wild creatures
Where a starry sky is the only preacher
Id float down on that western vale
And vanish with no trace or trail

If I was blessed with the gift of flight
I’d glide away in the dark of night
In tears I’d leave with no goodbyes
As I beat my wings through smoggy sky’s
And left all I knew and loved behind
I’d cry and cry till I was blind
‘Till I floated towards that Earthly eden
To freeze and burn with passing seasons

These wings they’d fly but one direction
Far from streets paved with dejection
Towards a pink horizon beyond the gray
Where the sun still shines on smoky days There I’d find those golden grasses
And even in beauty in the ashes
I’d fly on down to amber flames
To melt away these heavy chains

But I can’t float or fly or glide
These wings are clipped these hands are tied
So I walk and walk with blistered feet
On crowded, asphalt, dejected streets
Where the air is foul and the water black
Where the flowers sprout through pavement cracks
So when I dream I’m floatin’ by
Soaring towards those crystal sky’s
May 2019 · 269
................
Waldo May 2019
It’s strange the way people fade into your past and become a memory. Some leave a permanent mark on your psyche, while others will dissipate into obscurity or be forgotten altogether. In one moment these people help form the very essence of your life. In the next they hardly provoke a chuckle or a singular tear. Love decays like rose petals and some friendships only sprout for the spring. But in the now they all mean so much to me. I write this so one day I can look back and remember how feverishly my heart pumped in their presence. How my exuberance abounded with each word that flowed from their souls. But I know such passion only existed in the moment and it will eventually wither into particles of dust. Yet for now my heart crumbles at our severance and my soul weeps, knowing we may not meet until the life after next.
Apr 2019 · 237
Satan’s Roar
Waldo Apr 2019
I plod across
A dying land
With a heavy cross
Darkness expands
Such heavy loss
In shaking hands

I flee in panic
With panting breath
Mother is manic
Father brings death
Across the planet
The insects nest

Shall I tie this noose?
Sharpen this blade?
Limber and loose
As vision fades
This self abuse
Is our crusade

Where are you lord?
Oh absent father
Your mindless horde
Is such a bother
All marching toward
Your sacred alter
They can’t afford
To trip or falter
Or Satan’s roar
Will tie their halter

These scorching flames
And leaking blisters
Have many names
Beware my sisters
Our brothers’ games  
Give chills and shivers

Our cities crumble
The sky blackens
The ground rumbles
Within our atoms
A confused jumble
Of forbidden apples

The fallen weep  
Monsoons of tears  
Through wakeful sleep
The masses cheer
As venom seeps
Into their ears

Where are you lord?
Oh absent father
Your mindless horde
Is such a bother
All marching toward
Your sacred alter
They can’t afford
To trip or falter
Or Satan’s roar
Will tie their halter
Waldo Mar 2018
A discomfort that manifests through a plethora of delusions
Torturous thoughts brutalizing my mind like brain contusions
Causing an endless cycle of suffering and confusion
Sifting through the lies, misunderstandings, and illusions
Chasing the light in the darkness praying for it’s diffusion
A razor blade or a bullet are the only solutions

I’m sailing near the fringes of happiness and despair
Along the river of misery where our souls are stripped bare
On the border of the ignorant who live life without a care
And the knowledgeable hanging from nooses painfully aware
It’s a tumultuous journey to the light bringers lair
And should not be undertaken lightly so you must beware
Of all the deceit, misinformation, traps and snares

Self reflection is a dark wooded path filled with lynched souls
A forest of decaying dreams, aspirations, and goals
Endless entrances and passageways to endless rabbit holes
Demons feasting upon children without restraint or control

They say on the other side there’s sunshine and pastures of green
Crystal clear waters and ceremonies where angels convene
Blue sky’s and warm weather where everyone’s just peachy keen
But all I foresee is warfare, cancer victims, and ruptured spleens
Genocide, systematic **** and all things obscene
Feb 2018 · 491
Spring and Winter Blues
Waldo Feb 2018
The changing of the seasons
Affects my fickle mood
I'm running out of reasons
To drink water or eat food
I'll just ignore the demons
With the screen to witch I'm glued
There is no hope nor beacon
Just suffering to be viewed
After my soul's been beaten
Dripping blood and black and blue
No answers from the deacon
No solution from the pews
No serotonin secretion
Caused by that ****** Mary shrew
So I wait for the completion
Of my spring and winter blues.
Feb 2018 · 261
Capitalist Whores
Waldo Feb 2018
A filthy corporate *******
With an advertisement on my back
Pimped out by capitalist demons
Turning tricks for bankers and CEO's
The Johns always asking for favors
And of course I get down on my knees
Businesses, street corners- it's all the same
Each of us selling our bodies and souls
To a hedonistic society.
Feb 2018 · 237
Wishes Unrequited
Waldo Feb 2018
Distant memories
buried long ago
Rise from the grave
to dance and play.
Some are still sore
when you poke at them
Others have been
romanticized.
Flashbacks of a
childhood cut short
Innocence slain
like a rabid dog.
Places that were  
all burned to ashes
People that now
decompose in dirt.
In my dreams we
all laugh and smile
And wander through
the winding trails
Holding hands in
the endless cornfield
But now the forest
is empty and barren
The corn has rotted
and withered away.
Somewhere out there a
child is buried
Every now and then
I'll visit the grave
Cut off chunks of flesh
and sew them to my own
So he remains
sliced up and rotting
Eternally bleeding
from wishes unrequited.
Jan 2018 · 283
Like Living
Waldo Jan 2018
A cold oh so bitter
It reminds me of winter's
Sting.

A warmth so encompassing
Reminiscent of late spring's
Comfort.

A pain so enveloping
It hinders developing
And growth.

A joy with such a sweet taste
That not one crumb goes to waste
like delicacies.

Temperaments so fickle
Forming a soul so brittle
Like cracked glass.

A poem oh so dry
It's not even worth a try
Like living.
Nov 2017 · 401
Thousands of Pieces
Waldo Nov 2017
Soul scarred with unforgettable lessons
Memories burned into the very essence of self
Physical pain cannot compare to the sting of psychological wounds.
Lacerations deeper than any blade could cut
Abrasions festering with rank infections
Infections of spirit and mind.
Subconscious struggles revealed in my dreams
Where repressed memories and fears roam free
Where the demons frolic and poke at sore gashes
Gashes that pour blood drowning me in sorrow
Sorrow that hacks me into thousands of pieces
Thousands of pieces that will never be whole.
Nov 2017 · 1.9k
Lady Death
Waldo Nov 2017
When the Lady calls
Darkness is sure to fall
Like tears on a coffin
She calls all too often
She'll beckon for you softly
Smile at you broadly
She sings oh so sweetly
Lady Death has come to meet me.

She wears her hair like a veil
with skin so soft and pale
Her physique; dainty and frail
Take heed of the bleakness,
Don't you dare assume the weakness
Of her seductive melody
the pitch intoxicates me.
Her kiss will steal your breath
beware the embrace of Lady Death.

Her eyes are a piercing blue
And they will pierce straight on through
the scraps that are left of you.
She lays beside me every night,
caresses me until the light
shines bright, in the early morning;
when she leaves me in mourning-
cloudy thoughts, demons scorning.
Lady Death is drawing near,
She whispers nothings in my ear.

She pulls me towards the hereafter
with charming words and soft laughter.
She comes for me in the moonlight,
bringing me comfort in the night.
Yet her heart is black as coal
She comes only for my soul,
To drag me in to the dark.
I fear soon I may embark
on the last adventure,
when it all becomes a blur,
when the light fades away
and I've reached my final day.

You can have my heart, Ms. Reaper;
We'll roam together, Soul keeper.  
For the noose beckons every day,
Darkness is pulling me away.
Come ****** me up in my slumber;
Only you can disencumber
me of my eternal sorrow,
I want your kiss on the morrow.
My heart burns with desire
and Lady Death lit the fire.
Waldo Sep 2017
When was the last day I laid eyes upon you
When was I last able to watch you
Smile and frolic on a sunny day
Before you succumbed to self destructive ways?  

Was it when I threw flowers on your grave
Or when you became the poppy plants slave
When you were diseased infested and depraved
The day I realized you could not be saved?

Or was it when you were still joyful and smiling
Before you were crushed by the weight that was piling
When your soul was still brightly shining?
How far back was your fate aligning,
What moment ended up defining
Precisely what your future would be
and why would  the darkness not choose me?
Why would it embrace you but leave me behind
To rot with the rest of humankind?
Sep 2017 · 437
Long Ago
Waldo Sep 2017
Long ago our fates were decided for us,
Long before our energy returned to the physical realm
there was a place where we all did the cosmic dance together, floating freely amongst our eternal selves. The pieces of us that never die.
But that was long ago
and now we have forgotten.
Now we see ourselves as independent from each other, as different from "the other."
Now we judge and hate.

Long ago a group of enlightened men pulled puppet strings in the shadows.
Remember "enlightened" is not synonymous with righteous.
These men guided the world in a certain direction,
the effects of their actions are more so relevant today then back then.
They decided what our fates would be,
lives of ignorance and servitude.
They chained us, both with metal, and with economic systems.
So very long ago,
but still we remain chained, unchanging, stagnant.
Like the air that we breath and the polluted lakes in which we swim.

Long ago there were people who tried to warn us,
and some not so long ago.
They tried to show us the error of our ways,
tried to wake us up to the truth of things.
But we rarely listened.
In fact, we killed these people.
The Socrates' of the world.
Now look at us.
Wasting our lives away economically enslaved to corporate overlords,
to materialism
to false images of who we should be.

Long ago a dark cloud spread itself across the planet
It has yet to recede.
It brought with it industrialization, slavery, hardship, bloodshed.
The cloud has even spread into our minds.
Heads filled with distorted versions of spiritually,
with an historical timeline of half truths and outright lies.
Only the facts that fit their narratives make in the textbooks.
Those who attempted to clear the cloud away were silenced.

Long ago Mother Earth was born,
she held images in her mind of what her children might one day become.
Like any mother she thought we were capable of achieving great things,
and she loved us unconditionally.
Providing for us, giving us her breast milk-
water, trees, resources for shelter and food.
One group of her children strayed from the path,
we human beings.
Now we hurt her like we hurt ourselves,
over consuming that which was meant for all her children.
We have left her barren and scarred,
naked and used
crippled and abused.

Long ago the father of the cosmos sent our molecules rocketing through space.
Omnipresent, he knew the monsters we would one day become.
But still he sent us anyway,
why would he knowingly subject Mother to such brutality?  
There must be an answer-
maybe he's seen something after this era, A glimmer of hope that my mortal self cannot foresee.
The truth can only be found back then,
but we are not able to perceive the infinite timeline,
So the truth will stay there, in a time long ago.
Aug 2017 · 298
Save Yourselves
Waldo Aug 2017
Who has infected me with this disease?
Who has injected me with this poison?
With delusional perceptions of reality?
Was it god or some other supernatural enigma?
Was it a combination of drug use and genetics?
I'm guessing it was the latter
that filled my thoughts with blood spatter.
Although that would be the conclusion of the rational man,
one who embraces science and rejects god's plan.

I've never been a man of science,
rather I'm a man of silence who rejects unquestioning compliance.
Was it this defiance that broke my mind?
Broke my surety and will to survive?  
I'm struggling to sort false thoughts from the truth,
struggling even harder to find the root,
the cause of all my anguish and strife,
Cyclical thoughts that keep me up at night.

Who showed me these sadistic patterns?
Who gouged me with the blade of anxiety?
Am I suffering for the sins of my ancestors?
Do I seek vengeance upon myself?
These are questions that have no answers.
Still I ask them repetitively  
and smile back at myself devilishly.  
There's no hope for me but you can save yourselves,
Grow your own food and abandon the oil wells.
Conserve your energy and your water,
then maybe there'll be hope for your sons and daughters.
Aug 2017 · 270
Already In Motion
Waldo Aug 2017
So much pain on so many different levels,
Each and every day spent looking disheveled.
So many bleak possibilities in my mind,
Thoughts of a dismal future for mankind.

This negativity seeps from within me
I know it's dark mother please forgive me.
Father,  please take back your trusty firearm,
before I cause myself irreversible harm.

Thoughts of propelling buckshot into my head,
with blood and brains dripping from my bed.
Such thoughts can never truly be escaped,
like PTSD from warfare or ****.
There is no parole from mental prison,
no cure for the hate that has risen.

Love cannot change the blowing of the breeze,
It cannot lift me up from my knees.
Love cannot redirect the flow of water,
nor save us from civil war and slaughter.
It cannot remove nuclear waste from the ocean,
Love cannot stop what is already in motion.
Jul 2017 · 648
Words
Waldo Jul 2017
Words that are left unsaid
Fester and rot inside my head.
That which I have failed to say,
Words that torment everyday.
**** those words that wouldn't release.
Words of love and words of peace
Words I lacked the courage to speak.
I'm too quick to yield, a bit too meek.

Restrained words tend to cut my tongue,
They stab me deep within my lungs.
Words that could have saved a life,
Instead they pierce me like a knife.
Don't get me wrong, I like the pain
Like the misery in my brain.
Yet maybe if I had spoken up
My heart wouldn't feel so corrupt.

Words that decay over time,
Words that collect soot and grime,
That die and wither in my mind.
Their corpses linger to remind
Me of what I should have said.
Brutally they tear me to shreds.
So internally I bleed
Until these words can be freed.

Yet when words are harsh I spit them out
Words that spread hatred, fear, and doubt.
So easily they float away,
So careless with the things I say,
So selfish with the words I hoard  
The ones I've buried and ignored.
Yet deep within me they will dwell
Words that burn in eternal hell.
Jul 2017 · 735
We Are One
Waldo Jul 2017
There's a place on the edge of existence. A place that exists outside of the dimension of time.
I imagine I'll meet you there again, in the future. In our purest form, raw energy, when we break free from the chains of physicality.
Nothing from "before" that moment will matter. Although, there will be no before here, no present, no after. Just a moment that exists independently from these concepts.
Only in a place like this could we truly be free. A place where petty disagreements and foolish bickering are inconceivable.
Where the differences in religious beliefs, political thought, opinions on race, gender, and sexuality mean nothing.
A place without hatred and fear.
I don't think it is in our nature to hate, some may disagree, but I think such negativity can only exist in the physical realm.
After all, what were we prior to taking this form?
In the beginning there was nothing, only a single point that could be perceived as complete and total unity of every molecule in existence.
Then suddenly, maybe due to intervention from some omnipotent being, an explosion ripped this unity to shreds. Rocketing molecules light years away from each other, never to be whole again.
Let us not forget that we were this oneness.
We were this collection of molecules, coexisting together in an empty void.
I dream that I will meet you in this timeless place, that we will forget all the ideals that have divided us and remember this one simple truth, we are one.
Jul 2017 · 283
Happy Belated 4th
Waldo Jul 2017
I'm not feeling very patriotic
Im rather distraught and slightly neurotic.
Should I feel pride for my nation?
In the midst of war and racial frustration?
I laugh at the thought of emancipation.
Not much has changed since this proclamation.
B.S justifications
Don't satisfy me.
Where's the empathy?
It must be buried alongside slaves
and natives in unmarked graves.

I distrust authority,
I don't fall for demagoguery,
At least not easily.
I have no love for my country,
Not in any capacity.
I don't trust white faces in suits and ties
Who spread hatred, propaganda, and lies.
Their charming smiles are but a disguise,
Used to cover up their misdeeds and war crimes.
Everywhere they walk they leave trails of slime
and all their war is over nickels and dimes.

I chuckle at the thought of democracy.
All I see is slaughter and hypocrisy.
Land of the free, supposedly.
Wealth obtained by slavery
Does not impress me.
Land accumulated through destruction,
Manipulated by currency's seduction.
What is this country's major function?
To act as muscle for corporate masters,
To kiss the feet of evil *******.

We fund and supply our own enemies.
Secure oil wells and fields of poppies,
fossil fuel and drug trade monopolies,
Yet we preach of justice obnoxiously?
So I don't care much for Stars and Stripes
Or the colors red, blue, and white.
No I don't care much for Ol' Glory
Or our leaders who are predatory.
The flag blows gently in the breeze
And lady liberty is down on her knees.
Jun 2017 · 541
Murky Waters
Waldo Jun 2017
Like the darkness
of the womb,
I'm deep in
murky waters.
Darkness
which will consume
your sons
and your daughters.
The tide
retracts slowly.
The moon
shines bright.
Both the holy
and unholy
Dance together
tonight.

We frolic
after sun set
For the light
is taunting.
Oh where has
the joy went?
It's memory
is haunting.
Torment cuts
me deeply,
I'm cocooned in
despair.
Thoughts of suicide
briefly
Not that anyone
would care.

We hold hands in
the darkness,
Enslaved to
lunar cycles.
Slaves to Satan
incarnate,
and his unrighteous
disciples.
White faces, suits and ties,
dress shoes
and clean shaven.
That's Lucifer's disguise
He's enthroned in
every nation.

I'm drowning
in the ocean,
Saltwater
fills my lungs.
Take me far from
the commotion,
Away from beating
war drums.
I was infected
as a youth,
With a curse
that's everlasting.
The pain of
knowing truth,
Society
is crashing.

I'm floating
through the stars
The emptiness
cradles me.
I'm floating
oh so far
From senseless
fatalities.
****** brings
early death
To my hopeless
generation.
Choking on their
last breath
With suicidal  
infatuation.

I hold hands
with my demons
Together
we walk alone
My legs
start to weaken.
Splintering
in my bones.
It won't be
too long now,
Soon I will
disintegrate.
So I guess I'll
take a bow
And accept our
woeful fate.
Jun 2017 · 370
God Has Yet to Tell Me Why
Waldo Jun 2017
The history of our species
is soaking with blood and feces.
Coated in rotting corpses,
The fates are so remorseless.
How could a God create this
world of war, ****, pain, and racists?

A righteous God could never conceive
of this world that I perceive.
If there is a loving creator
then why all the hate and racial slurs?
Why's there materialistic vanity
and imperialistic insanity?
Curse this reality of physicality,
We're all slaves to our own duality.

The world is so mangled and ******,
So This God must be one sick puppy.
School shootings are now a common practice
and hate is spewed from rage filled baptists,
Are they really God's spiritual apparatus?
If so I want no part of his  kingdom
I want no part of this crooked system.

I ask you, God are you  trying to teach us?
Is suffering the way that you reach us?
Or are we just pawns in a twisted game?
Your abandoned children left out in the rain?

If there is a God then it must hate
The entirety of which it creates.
He or she must enjoy our pain,
Must laugh at bullets lodged in brains.
I've seen widows cry
I've seen youths die
And God has yet to tell me why.
Jun 2017 · 467
Already Burning
Waldo Jun 2017
The sweet taste of self destruction,
Makes it hard for one to function.
The goal is self evolution
To escape these corrupt institutions.
But what's the solution
Under our eroding constitution?
So much **** confusion.
So many twisted conclusions
Reaffirmed by my delusions.

Pain, pain please go away.
Anguish seems to always stay
Under sunny sky's, on clouded days,
A slave to my pessimistic ways.
Darkness seeps from my fingertips
As the continents drift
And the magnetic poles shift.

Melatonin brings sleepiness
And dreams so hauntingly devious.
Thoughts so painfully tedious,
Even the devil could not conceive of this.
They demand thoughtless obedience,
A single consciousness of greediness,
And anxiety ridden uneasiness.

Mushroom clouds of sorrow,
The bleakness of tomorrow.
Reasons to let the blood flow
To rest six feet below.
There's no peace to be found here
Just cold stares, judgement, and sneers.  
Take me where the maggots eat at flesh
Where dirt and corpses mesh.

I think we're all god ****** insane
Because God ****** us with pain.
With self-hatred flowing through our veins.  
They say Hell is a physical place,
Where evil souls are laid to waste.
So why do we all get a taste
Before our existence is erased?
Because Hell is in the mind
Hell is in the heart
Hell is all you'll find
In a world so dark.
May 2017 · 1.2k
Seaside Phantom
Waldo May 2017
Twas a ghost who wandered along the seaside
And each day she cried
With the rising of the tides.
A fitting metaphor
For her sorrows along the shore
Where she jumped to her death,
And exhaled her last breath.
She suffered alone in misery.
Drowning oh so pitifully,
Figuratively and literally.

She wasn't long for this world.
Even as a little girl,
She'd make herself hurl
And blame the Earth's twirl.
Her darkness wouldn't leave
So oh how she grieved
Over the reality she perceived,
Which was brighter than it seemed.

Her story haunted me
And her memory taunted me.
So I sought out the ghost
Who wanders along the coast.
I found her near the  rocky cliffside
Where her physical being died.
With gray clouds in the sky
And sorrow within her eyes.
I had to ask her why,
Why'd she leave me behind?  
In a world so bitter and unkind?  
She kissed me on the cheek
Said, "Sorry lover of mine.
I did not belong to you,
Nor this time.
Instead  I will wander for eternity,
Eternally a possession of the sea."
May 2017 · 362
The Tattoos of Death
Waldo May 2017
Everywhere they haunt me,
Everywhere they follow.
Everywhere they taunt me,
Everywhere they swallow
Chunks of my soul.

With charming smiles
And scars on their wrists.
Smiles of denial,
Where darkness exists,
That's where they dwell.

Who comes to who?
Is it me or them?
What can I do,
With tales so grim?
Do they seek my help?

Unanswered questions.
Some things are sure,
They provoke reflection
And there is no cure,
For their depression.
It's all a cycle.

Some days they're joyful,
Then days of grief,
Days that are gleeful  
Are all too brief
They disintegrate.

Do they see the cycle
In which they're trapped?
The pain gets recycled,
So one must adapt
Or they'll be consumed.

They tell me stories
Of struggle and shame.
This world is gory
And I feel their pain.
They leave their mark.

Who is it I speak of?
Our lost generation.
Go take a peak of
The youth in frustration,
Come watch us suffer.

We're rotting in hell
And you're here with us.
Oh what is that smell?
Infected wounds and ****,
From suicide scars.

Scars of survival,
Also remembrance,
Of their revival.
From the voids sweet trance.
Suicide scars,
the tattoos of Death.
May 2017 · 1.7k
When Your Soul Dies
Waldo May 2017
When your soul dies,
When a mother cries,
When the law denies
Your right to be free.
You know that you're trapped
In a twisted reality.

When children are bombed,
Yet you're told to remain calm
'Cause the justifications are psalms.
Then you know the world's in the palm
Of the hand of a madman.
Or rather a group of men and women
With diabolical plans.

When your leaders are your enemies,
Families in control for centuries
Yet we still don't know their identities
As they pray to demonic entities?
Then you know it's all insanity
And you're in a dark reality.

When the law makers break the law,
When the carnage leaves you in awe,
When kids slit wrists until they're raw,
And  patriots become outlaws.
Then I know I've reached the decline
Of this "Great" country of mine

What has humanity been worth?
Not just the country also the Earth,
Was doomed to destruction from its birth.
Because of a parasite so evil,  
With thought processes so medieval.

But as a wise man once taught me,
I cannot hate all humanity
For we are kept down on our knees
By the self-interested nature of you and me
May 2017 · 1.5k
Melancholy Love
Waldo May 2017
She had the eyes of a goddess
And the voice of an angel
But I could not save her
In fact I think I gave her
More pain than she had
When she first came to me
Crooked and scarred
Out of touch with reality

I made her scars thicker
She purged with intensity  
You see I thought I was the savior
Of her self destructive behavior
Yet I was but the arrow
That pierced through her ankle
She sliced at her thighs
Oh how the wounds rankled

I've learned not to dwell
On days that have passed
Those who focus on the past
Will not for long last
But I can still see
The hurt in her eyes
When I tossed her away
When she saw through my lies

I had the eyes of a demon
And the voice of a monster
She could not save me
In fact I think she gave me
More pain than I had
When I first came to her
When she seduced my heart
With a tender whisper
Apr 2017 · 2.5k
Satan's Song
Waldo Apr 2017
I’ve chosen to walk
A lonely road
Where ravens squawk
As time erodes
Where the devil talks
Through whispered codes

I walk along
A dark wooded path
Where the nights are long
And I face Satan's wraith
Everything feels wrong
There's no turning back

The more I wander
The more I stray
More time to squander
The days away
So much time to ponder
The end of days

Darkness is falling
The Earth is dying
The Devil's calling
The news is lying
It's all so appalling
There's no denying

This path I roam
Is filled with sorrows
Nowhere feels home
Too many tomorrows
Too Many poems
Spreading my woes

The Devil follows
He tempts my soul
But my soul is hollow
So still I stroll
This pain I swallow
And it takes its toll

I can not save
This doomed planet
We've dug our grave
Satan's enchantment
Has made us slaves
Bloodshed is rampant

And when we crumble
I'll shed no tears
The devil mumbles
In our ears
So we stumble
Year after year
As the end draws near
Apr 2017 · 365
LESS OF EVERYTHING
Waldo Apr 2017
I'm searching for a solution to  the issues that vex me
I speak of global issues, not my own pitiful emotions
The Earth is dying
And we humans will stomp on her perishing corpse until every river is dry
We will pick at her wounds until they fester and ooze
And we will die with her
As she withers

You see the future is not set in stone
It is forged with our daily thoughts and actions
Like the flow of a river we can redirect its path, we can dam it
But we're damning ourselves in a different sense
For our daily actions are that of a suicidal species
Or one that is hopelessly ignorant
There is no more time to waste
The river of time is flowing quickly  towards the era I speak of
A time when the Earth will be barren
When her sorrow will manifest itself as drought and famine
A time when your children will cringe from the pain of starvation

Now I do not say these things merely to spread dismay
Rather I'm writing this to provoke thought in the only way I know how
With brutal honesty
And you should already be aware, honestly
That half of our oxygen resources are gone
And half of our fresh water
Half of our O2 and half of our H20 means half the food  
So what do you think that means for humanity?
I'll spell it out in case my message was diluted
It means that half of us have to die for the other half to live
This is truth. Harsh truth, but truth nonetheless.

So I ask myself, where can we go from here?
Action can be taken to save lives
But the actions must be drastic
And we must realize that we, as in we the common folk of this world, are the only ones that will stop it
Those at the top have no issue with ****** Mother Earth for their profit
With pulling our puppet strings towards destruction
And they will do so until every soul in this world is suffering
There's so much more I could say
So much more I could add to this picture I'm painting
But I'll end it with this
Just try to remember the river of time and how it can be redirected
We can stray from this path were on
But it starts with you and I
With us uniting to heal this world
It starts with simply consuming less
LESS OF EVERYTHING
Mar 2017 · 729
Blah Blah
Waldo Mar 2017
Never been a sunshine and rainbows guy
I prefer a crescent moon against a dark sky
While spending late nights questioning why
Children have to die and widows have to cry

My life really hasn't been all that bad
But walking with broken souls drives me mad
Meaningless tasks make me empty and sad
And if it all crumbles then I'll be glad

There's not much worth to the life I lead
Not many needs just nicotine and ****
Maybe a bandage for my heart that bleeds
A blindfold to hide mans evil deeds

I prefer thunderstorms to sunny days
Because light taunts me in the cruelest way
Justice costs money whereas crime pays
So I like lightening strikes and sky's that are grey

I've been beaten down until I was weak
But I've heard the voice of Mother Nature speak
As  I wandered along trails, streams, and creeks
She showed me peace within the mountain peaks
Mar 2017 · 665
Maybe
Waldo Mar 2017
Maybe there will come a day
Where children can just laugh and play
A day where hatred fades away
But that day is not today

Maybe there will come a time
With mutual love and lack of crime
Without war over nickels and dimes
But we are not yet in that time

Maybe there will be a place
Where smiles are on every face
And our lives won't be such a waste
But I doubt that you've found that place

Maybe we can forge a better Earth
Where money and objects have no worth
A world where birth is not a curse
But we have not yet formed that Earth

Maybe we can truly be
Home of the brave and land of the free
But that is a future I can't foresee
It only exists idealistically

Like a mental illness in your brain
The coming days will bring only pain
But this is life, we cannot complain
And maybe one day things will change
Mar 2017 · 789
Beauty That Haunts Me
Waldo Mar 2017
The kind of woman that  has you fumbling for words at 3:30 in the morning.
But words can't describe such elegance and grace.
Nor the regret of avoiding her embrace under the moonlight,
For *** and cheap thrills.
Or the way her beauty haunts me.
Mar 2017 · 778
The Ashy Forest
Waldo Mar 2017
Have you ever felt it's too dark to see?
Not in a visual sense, but mentally?
Well one day nature spoke to me.
As I gazed upon a burning tree.

In an ashy forest, black and bleak.
Near the Grand Teton mountain peaks.
I heard the voice of our mother speak.
Ash is the blood that trees leak

I strolled and whistled through the smoky air
And saw the destruction nature shared
Yet There were spots of green that the fire spared

It left yellow trees and fields of grass
Could it be that nature is not quite crass?
Balance says she must complete these tasks.
So in the small patches of color I'll bask

Cause you see destruction comes and then it goes
So that the old can die and the young  can grow
Green pastures become smothered in snow
So we can value the warmth, didn't you know?

Flames turn colorful forests black
But the color seems to always come back
So if happiness is something you lack
If loneliness and sorrow attack
Remember that anguish can help you learn
And the best lessons are the ones that burn

What stuck out to me in the ashy woods
Were the colorful trees that still stood
I can survive the flames if they could
So I let a chuckle, put up my hood.
And headed out of the blackness
Mar 2017 · 732
The Thrill Has Faded
Waldo Mar 2017
Now that the joy is gone
And the thrill has faded away
I'm back to fighting misery
Each and every day

Once I was in a place
Where the happiness was endless
Where every face had a smile
But now it all seems senseless

What's it matter now?
Those days are in the past
Now the pain has returned
And its here to last

The pain of which I speak
I have failed to find it's source
But it has always been within me
This my mind has enforced

So I'll trot along
Through tornados and hurricanes
Through blizzards and wildfires
Even if the pain remains
Mar 2017 · 1.3k
Something Feels Wrong
Waldo Mar 2017
Something feels wrong about walking on pavement
When I could be skipping through fields of grass
Something's wrong with economic enslavement
When we could be carelessly letting time pass

Something's wrong with perpetual warfare
When all we desire is love and peace
Something feels empty about likes and shares
And something feels wrong about racist police

Something feels off when politicians speak
With their lies, misinformation, and deceit
Something feels wrong because we've passed our peak
We're on the decline and it tastes so sweet.

Something feels wrong with the passing breeze
As if the air knows what's coming next
Something looks wrong with decaying trees
They too understand that we are hexed.

Something feels wrong in my dark twisted mind
Something feels wrong with this dark twisted Earth
Something feels wrong about being kind
Something feels wrong about having no worth.

Something feels wrong about dragging
along
And it'll all feel wrong until the day I'm gone
Mar 2017 · 584
An Ode To Destruction
Waldo Mar 2017
Destruction breeds creation, yes this is true
Yet destruction still leaves us sore, black, and blue.

Destruction entertains, it gives a good time.
It gives me a reason to jot down a rhyme.

Destruction brings war and destruction brings peace
Destruction makes the population decrease.

Oh Destructive, destroying, destruction
Bring  about society's deconstruction.

Destruction is pain and it is joy
Destruction makes men out of boys

In destruction I revel
It's both God and The Devil.
It's the dark and the light
Its my moon in the night.
Mar 2017 · 313
Searching
Waldo Mar 2017
I have searched but the dictionary does not posses
Enough words to describe my discontent, pain, and stress
Mar 2017 · 319
The Donald
Waldo Mar 2017
Demagogue
Oligarchic
Nonsensical
Authoritarian
Lunatic
Despotic  


Treacherous
Racist
Uneducated
Misogynistic
Provocateur
Feb 2017 · 749
It Shines Anyway
Waldo Feb 2017
Improper goodbyes
blank stares
And lies.

Hesitant hellos
Apathy
And foes.

A dark thought process
Anger
And stress.

Blue sky's fade to grey
Love dies
And decays.

But the sun shines anyway
And I'm doin' okay.
Feb 2017 · 333
Frolicking and Pondering
Waldo Feb 2017
Joyfully I skip through fields of daisies
Woefully I think until I'm crazy
Feb 2017 · 278
Know Your Demons
Waldo Feb 2017
The fog on the window to my soul has been cleared away and now I'm left staring at nothing but my own hidden self.
I see the hidden fears and desires that tuck themselves away in the deepest parts of my mind,
buried subconsciously in a place that is never meant to be revealed.
Have I truly stared into my own broken soul, naked before me, with no subconscious defenses to keep my suppressed personality traits in hiding where they belong?  
Or have I simply been consumed by the delusions of an LSD fueled nightmare?
The answer most likely lies somewhere in the middle ground between these two statements, as the answer to most questions often does.
Whatever the reality may be; I feel naked, violated, and used.
The darkest parts of my mind were turned against me and used to torture me internally,
For what felt like an eternity.
But I have made it through to the other side.
The LSD gently fades away as my rationality is restored, and I can still look at myself in the mirror.

Those thoughts that you throw away into the garbage disposal of your unconscious mind in an attempt to hide you from yourself.
Those thoughts that go against the societal norms that have been abusively drilled into your mind. 'Those are the thoughts that I stare eye to eye with every day in an attempt to know who I am.
Not just the illusion of the person who I think I should be, but truly the purest form of my identity.
So I stare at my naked self.
He's ashamed and scared.
But I throw him some clothes, pull him to his feet, and now we are one again.
My demons and I walk hand in hand along a broken road.
I know their faces now, they are not strangers to me.
Can you say the same?
Waldo Feb 2017
That conversation has become stale.
Worthless, a waste of time and energy.
"There's still happiness left, but you must search for it."
The words roll off my tongue without meaning.
"It's all about perspective change; positive thinking can cure you."
More words that hold no weight and float away like a feather in the breeze.
"All the love you need is already inside you."
Still they stare at me blankly.
No light can penetrate their darkness.
They're more comfortable in places where they can hide from themselves.
And from each other.
But I want to show them!
I must  show them what I have seen!
The spread of mutual love under an ocean of stars, tucked away in a mountain wilderness.
And the feeling of euphoria that envelops such a situation.
All of life can be like those moments.
Those beautiful moments I spent soaking up the moons energy under a night sky,
With a cigarette in my mouth and not a care in the world.
But it's different here, too many cares.
Too many reasons to stare coldly into a bleak future.
From time to time, they come to me.
The suicide kids.
They come to express their anguish, to share their grief.
Over and over I listen to their words.
I listen to their sorrows and their pain.
They tell me  they don't want to carry on,
That a grave sounds cozy to them.
But that conversation has gone stale.
So I spit back my usual remarks.
Some nonsense about happiness being a choice.
A little blabbering about finding light in the dark.
Then they feel good for a time, at least I like to think so.
But the paradigm shift never comes.
They crawl back into the shadowy corners of their minds.
It seems I was only able to lift my own self out of the ashes.
Maybe there is no helping them, these broken souls.
"They'll learn to pick up their own pieces without you." I say to myself.
As if I wasn't sick of talking about it already; sick of giving advice that they can't process.
Sick of absorbing their depression into my heart.
Sick of that same old stale  conversation.
Feb 2017 · 536
Walking With The Dead
Waldo Feb 2017
I walk hand in hand with corpses,
And the streets we walk are morbid.
Roads lined with scorching torches,
And riddled with their organs.
Streets oh so solemn and sordid.

Skeletons stroll freely among me,
Blissfulness, they've taken from me.
They say "Hey, I'm sorry sonny,  
But life ain't always sunny."
So we walk together glumly.

The sky's are gray where we wander
And  the landscape is somber.
Nothing but endless time to ponder,
The endless days we have to squander
Feb 2017 · 1.4k
Sunny Days, Stormy Days
Waldo Feb 2017
Sunny days, butterflies and her long eye lashes.
Stormy clouds, hornets and her self inflicted gashes.
Feb 2017 · 571
The Suicde Kids
Waldo Feb 2017
Three teens sit in a lightless room.
The **** smoke mixes with the incense,
And births a pungent smell.
The television flashes in the dark.
They stare blankly into its screen, afraid to think.
No exchange of words, after all what would they say?
"Hey buddy! How many times have you wanted to end it this week?!"
Or maybe, "Hi Pal! Could you spare a Xanax?"
These are the suicide kids; life means nothing to them.
They wander emotionlessly through school hallways
And work minimum wage jobs with displeasure.
They don't smoke for fun, they smoke to numb.
The prospect of death is comforting to them.
Maybe then they could be alone without demons running rampant.
So they sit amongst each other in lifeless rooms.
With lifeless people, in lifeless towns.
To them, Suicide is like a passing wind.
Not even a seconds thought for their rotting peers,
They understand. They know this life is heavy.,
And sometimes one just can't take the weight. So they make it end.
With pills and bullets. With Ropes and razors. They make it end.
Soon they'll have to pick a career and start a "life."
They chuckle sorrowfully at this prospect,
What life will find them here in this shattered country?
The heat is rising and they KNOW it.
The water is drying and they KNOW it.
The trees are dying and they KNOW it.
They're slaves. And they KNOW it.
It is this knowing that brings them their pain
And brings along thoughts of nooses and slashed wrists.

One of them turns to the other and says "Yo pass me the ****, man."
He slides the glass across the table in front of them.
Careful not to make eye contact,
That might spark conversation.
The incense smoke twirls in the air.
The TV flickers, and day turns to night.
The youngest of the three teens says farewell and walks home glumly,
A noose awaits him.
Feb 2017 · 380
The Secret
Waldo Feb 2017
In my mind I'm still that same scared little boy,
Frantically playing with his toys in an attempt to forget what hurts him.
What frightens him.
The secret.
Somewhere in the fogginess of my childhood lies the key.
The key that first unlocked the door to my anguish.
Anguish that has stalked me into adulthood.
Like the secret.
I remember those terror stricken nights well.
What was I afraid would be hiding under my bed?
Or crawling in through my window?
Was it a repressed memory I feared would catch up to me?
A secret of abuse? Of Insanity?
It seemed the monster I feared was myself,
and the truth that only I can bring.
The secret.
Must I find it to feel whole again?
So I search.
Wandering through desolate subconscious paths in my mind.
Paths that lead to nowhere.
Maybe that's been it this whole time,
maybe nothing made me this way.
Just as a wolf is born with the thirst for blood.
I am a manifestation of sorrow,
The embodiment of my own hate,
I am the secret.
Feb 2017 · 289
Smiles of Anguish
Waldo Feb 2017
I see pain hiding in every smile.
I hear crying within your laughter.
The most fragrant of flowers smell vile.
The plot thickens with passing chapters.
In fact lately I'm spiraling down faster,
Enslaved by ******* corporate masters.

I can feel the hate in each, "I love you."
I see darkness wherever there is light.
Abuse, ****, ******, war, nothing new
Same old same old each day is a fight.
Until I'm asphyxiated and blue,
while the noose is gripping me tight.
Feb 2017 · 523
Bad dreams
Waldo Feb 2017
In my dreams it seems that darkness looms
A future of misery, death and gloom
Buildings ablaze and fields of tombs
Each action you take, brings closer our doom
Revelations will manifest soon

And I doubt that Jesus will return
He'd rather watch us all suffer and burn
Now Peace and love may be for what we yearn
But pain and death is all that we've earned
That seems to be the only way we learn

The land of the free and home of the brave
Home of the brainwashed, land of unmarked graves
Genocide, hypocrisy, and slaves.
The end is near and I don't want to be saved
I'm sick of hearing us all rant and rave

So if I may say, let me fade away
Prior to Anglo Saxon judgement day
I see the weak upon which we've preyed
As does God so don't bother to pray
Jul 2016 · 400
Colorless
Waldo Jul 2016
I watch the waves crash against a black and white shore.
I feel the grit of colorless sand on my feet.
Under the Boardwalk I spot an eyesore.
I see a man curled up, shivering in a raggedy sheet.

I rise so I can speak to this pitiful man
But Walking in dullness feels like an eternity.
I said, where will you go? Do you have a plan?
He let out a little sigh and turned to me.
He said well brother, I have a short life span.
I'm cold and alone, look around there's no color to see!

I notice he is leaking blood. Redness  drips on the grey sand.
I say should I phone a doctors this looks bad!
He says no, just grab my hand
I bleed for you! So just be glad.

Why bleed for a man that you do not know?
Well brother I can see the sorrow in your soul.
You've been here too long and you have to go.
Your heart has turned as black as coal.
But there's more to see, you have more to grow.
You wither as you watch the grey waves roll.
So I give you this redness just so you know;
that there's still color in this world as you stroll.
Mar 2016 · 901
Corn
Waldo Mar 2016
Hadn't seen my brother in awhile, I wondered if he’d something risky.
Instead I found him at home sitting alone drowning in swigs of whiskey.
The dark living room became his cave.
The couch acted as his grave.
How strange it is to see a man become a bottles slave.
Has Bourbon withered him away until there's nothing  left to save?

Much time has passed since we roamed the woods and strolled along the creek.
Now it seems the creek has dried, the trees have died, and the forest looks bleak.
But somewhere out in the cornfield I can still here him speak.
Corn, the original form of the poison that makes him weak.
Jul 2015 · 440
Afternoon thoughts
Waldo Jul 2015
Misinformation, also outright lies
Government, terrorist, drug cartel ties
The facts are out there just open your eyes
The flag is what some have grown to despise
But Hearts of men are where the enemy lies
One day all trees will die and the wells will dry
Earth will weep 'til it has no tears to cry
Look into the mirror when asking why

Long ago our forefathers screamed and wept
Oppression is what they refused to accept
They fought well and died while others slept
Their ideologies is what we've kept
A great  challenge emerging that's what's next
Study library books and read the texts
The solution's hiding it makes me vexed
History's a cycle, it's always hexed
Jul 2015 · 386
Troubled Times
Waldo Jul 2015
Ashes to ashes so it shall begin.
I ask, is there any way we can win?
Finally we'll pay for our legacy of sin.
So pour your favorite whiskey maybe some gin.
Watch conflict do it's dance while the earth still spins.
We slaughter one another while the rich mock us with grins. C
ivil war is coming witness Kin slay kin.
Foe will **** foe and friend **** friend.
Darkness is dawning, waiting around the bend.
Widows will be made, mothers will cry.
Fathers and brothers and cousins will die.
Our streets and backyards are where their cold bodies will lie.
Jul 2015 · 1.1k
Drawing to a close
Waldo Jul 2015
Lock up your kids and hide your wife
If you wish them to have another day of life.
Dawning upon us are times of strife, Where you'll need more protection than pocket knife.
The death knell rings  
The whole country can hear it's ding.
The fat lady begins to sing.
How long until society collapses?
How long before plague  and anarchy relapses?
The spirit of chaos sharpens its blade, preparing to see the strong survive and the weak fade.

— The End —