Old friend
do you remember me
I wonder, I truly do
If you remember the moments
that pieced together this conscience
and called out to a shattered night
Old friend
I am sorry for my betrayal
and any pain that may have erupted
from the earth and the arrows
as they buried themselves into your cheek
Old friend
anger is the most cunning of devils
twisted, black, and desperate
to cloak us all in shadows
playing a game that was lost
the moment venom took root
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
Phantom
The moon is a siren
and the siren is a serpent
in wolves clothing
looking to eat sheep and shark alike
We look to it for answers
but the answers don't exist
just a phantom fairy tale
told to the weary and the meek
Until the fairy tale is exposed
as a lie of such tranquil tragedies
that anger boils to fever
and revolution bursts into the street
and the siren is a serpent
in wolves clothing
looking to eat sheep and shark alike
We look to it for answers
but the answers don't exist
just a phantom fairy tale
told to the weary and the meek
Until the fairy tale is exposed
as a lie of such tranquil tragedies
that anger boils to fever
and revolution bursts into the street
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Lashes
Rivers welted into the Earth
pouring sorrows over rounded stones
recalling that money doesn't wash in
with the tide, emboldened by the moon
Wax on and then wash it off
feeling the sting of honeybees
and the lashes of angry slavers
trying to break our backs
But whips don't shake the faith
of the mute, the deaf, and the dumb
cuts left in the flesh worn as wounds
that scab and heal into deeper crevices
Canyons flogged into the Earth
ancient lands once inhabited
by natives and nativity packaged
into stories found on splintered land
pouring sorrows over rounded stones
recalling that money doesn't wash in
with the tide, emboldened by the moon
Wax on and then wash it off
feeling the sting of honeybees
and the lashes of angry slavers
trying to break our backs
But whips don't shake the faith
of the mute, the deaf, and the dumb
cuts left in the flesh worn as wounds
that scab and heal into deeper crevices
Canyons flogged into the Earth
ancient lands once inhabited
by natives and nativity packaged
into stories found on splintered land
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Mysteries
Mysteries stretched across a burning canvas
a fire that has ravaged a once tranquil forest
filled with slumbering birds and bees
awake and curious to solve such a riddle
Mysteries playing a trombone
with deep bass lines and lenient guidelines
coloring outside the box in an act
of premeditated defiance
Mysteries unsolved and unsalvageable
resting on the bottom of deep ocean trenches
covered in fine dust created as silver hearts
crumble in the face of such a riddle
a fire that has ravaged a once tranquil forest
filled with slumbering birds and bees
awake and curious to solve such a riddle
Mysteries playing a trombone
with deep bass lines and lenient guidelines
coloring outside the box in an act
of premeditated defiance
Mysteries unsolved and unsalvageable
resting on the bottom of deep ocean trenches
covered in fine dust created as silver hearts
crumble in the face of such a riddle
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Creatures
Quite moments
and the shattering of a fragile mind
aged with wonders and intoxicated
with the finest of wines
a symbol carved into creatures
dictating extinctions
and exclamations from the youth
that perhaps freedom isn't free
Quite moments
in remembrance of the dead
and a recognition of children
starving while they bury their beds
a tear drop ever reaching
across the horizon in horror
of the senseless bloodshed
and the unworthy who are blessed
and the shattering of a fragile mind
aged with wonders and intoxicated
with the finest of wines
a symbol carved into creatures
dictating extinctions
and exclamations from the youth
that perhaps freedom isn't free
Quite moments
in remembrance of the dead
and a recognition of children
starving while they bury their beds
a tear drop ever reaching
across the horizon in horror
of the senseless bloodshed
and the unworthy who are blessed
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Choir Songs
Moving towards something rugged
a tear in the skyline
trickling a dim light into the periphery
of the visions induced
by dreams whispered in choir songs
but refused in the depths of church
I am having severe writers block...
a tear in the skyline
trickling a dim light into the periphery
of the visions induced
by dreams whispered in choir songs
but refused in the depths of church
I am having severe writers block...
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Flesh and Blood
She sits there and she trembles
sadness sweeps her as she pushes
emotions under the rug and past shadows
of a face oh so familiar, but no longer
animated flesh and blood
He watches eyes filled with pain
glass holding the memories
beneath confusion and sober chaos
whispering for one more chance at
a coherent conversation between men
A familiar pain across a threshold
perhaps not one in the same
but a pain nonetheless
that trickles from teary eyes
swells and then bursts from the chest
sadness sweeps her as she pushes
emotions under the rug and past shadows
of a face oh so familiar, but no longer
animated flesh and blood
He watches eyes filled with pain
glass holding the memories
beneath confusion and sober chaos
whispering for one more chance at
a coherent conversation between men
A familiar pain across a threshold
perhaps not one in the same
but a pain nonetheless
that trickles from teary eyes
swells and then bursts from the chest
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