There will be no more when the sands of time drop their last kernel into the forbearing sea of thought
Amongst the gallows only the riddled few remain at their wits and cry out for more against the heat
Soon, too, shall man kind seek out the blissful revenge of what has eluded their existence
With bombs and conquerors and their unrelenting performance of celebrated efforts
The last drop shall remain frozen in the air like the memories of y’or
Without much hope for the removal of sinful elegance captured in the mind of the youth
Who strive for their lovers without concepts of legacy, without understanding of respect
But who knocks there, if not the newest hero of the day, with flashing armor and manicured demeanor
I shall present this final hour like the news of a landing, or the disappearance of a breed
And all those around shall mourn like a lover, lost with their thoughts and passive listlessness
And I shall sigh with eternal sadness that was thought to have died long ago; persevered none-the-less
Like them in their time and forgetful of mind, one kernel shall remain grasping at hope and sustain
Category: sorrow
Endless Grin (day 335)
Pulling fast at me the endless grin
The lover runs from deep within
Tomorrow dies with tonight’s sin
Yesterday whithered with the sacred fin
An aging man that cried before
Grabs his bat and settles the score
Never tried to sacrifice more
Always dread and painfully sore
Left for the vultures
That enjoy malady of sculptures
The dead and beaten tenures
Release a cry from moldy dentures
When at last the sin does remain
Gathered round in unearthed vain
Lay before the many slain
Walk; today remain plain
Despair (day 326)
Deep in despair I’ve grown accustomed to the faith
Deep within the circles of sanity
I’ve learned how to point, or rather trace
The glossy edges of vanity
And for how long does the green grass grow over there
How long does the beckoning become
All that is here and lives within the fair
Perhaps more is then left for those with some
Then, with all the crowd cheering aloud
The grasshopper will be trampled and dismantled
Alone in the wilderness the sun and a cloud
Play tricks on life and deaths sampled
Death (day 322)
Death stalks us around the block
As we shop for groceries
Death watches us sleep
As we dream of unobservable sums
Death clears our doorstep
On a windy fall night
Death finishes off the card game
Late in the early hour of the morning
Death cheers at the finish line
As we develop our muscles
Death encourages us
Standing in line for lunch
Death crosses the street
On our way in to work
Death sings a song
As we lament a bad deed done
Death cries wearily
At the doorstep of our sins
Death dances a fine jig
On the mantle of our success
And death holds our hand
As we march forth into the waking eyes of a new day
[I’ll miss you Ted]
Brothers and Sisters (day 288)
We fight for our money
We fight for our bread
We fight for the clothes on our back
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?
We fight for our gold
We fight for our oil
We fight for the car that we drive
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?
We fight for our computers
We fight for our iphones
We fight for the laptop we squander
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?
We fight for our drugs
We fight for our pension
We fight for the crimes we commit
But do we fight for our brothers and sisters?
[This poem is dedicated to the brothers and sisters who are effected every day by the terror of what is known as Kony. Please give the Invisible Children a voice.]
The Game (day 286)
Coerced into the blame game
I felt a little foolish as I washed the red expressions from my skin
I felt in awe as I sprayed down jealousy off the walls
Thrown up there in a fit of disgust
Pent up, for anger never held any grounds close to these blackened soles
There was, however, a time when anger ruled the lands
I vaguely remember those days
When lovers walked hand in hand along the boardwalk
Casting glances over their shoulders
Trying to disguise the thoughts upheld on their brows
Perhaps it was the technological shift that eased the lovers arms from around the clock
As the day shifted into another
As the listless lost little figments of their imagination
To the ever-slowing mechanism of the futures design
To the ever ticking tock of a lovers game
Uneven Sleep (day 285)
I had an uneven sleep
Like the homeless on the cement
Dying for the months rent
Listlessly wandering into another step
For what, I fear the answer
I fear the melancholy it invites
I fear the destruction it involves
Without a comfortable cloth to my name
How lame it must seem
To the truly advanced souls of this land
Where once was a stone
Now creeps up some glass
Greenery once ran rampant throughout
But now is delicately placed high above
In secret places only the few birds know about
But then, where have our secrets come from?
Whither have they gone?
Forever, Nothing (day 262)
With your gilded ears pressed against my beaten heart
I sing my song of dancing queens
Sailing away on the silhouetted light of a moonlit night
…and you know I’ve called this road before
…and you’ve cried these gifted diamonds once, long ago
My aim it used to have a thousand strings pulling
The light it used to shine straight ahead
Reaching my limbs for the true chapter of praise
…and now I’ve cut all regrets from the symphony
…and now I’ve let the only lover I’ve ever had know I shall never see her again
But there remains a life: lone
A desire so imprinted that the fashionistas remember the last dance
So harmonious with life that the weeds embrace entirely
…and now I’ve gone away forever
…and now there has left nothing, for forever shall remain everything
Camp Not, Restless Soldier (day 255)
How can the passage of time lend its ear to the wonton desires
Further to the earnest soldier standing erect in check
Should the immovable objects be challenged to a dual?
Pierced like a bird-song, early in the morrow
Camp not, restless soldier
Push forth while thy still has the power
Four long nights I’ve waited by this step
Imagining every passing breath to come at last
Nay, just the cruel cruel glow of thou moon
Shines down as if mine own third eye
Camp not, restless soldier
Push forth wile thy still has the power
Enslaved by the cruel witch of this story
Set in stone; too young to hurt, much too old to die so tragic
Living in fear has increased thou arc
Set deep inside thy soul of consciousnesses cloud
Maybe (day 254)
I may have been sleeping when I wrote this
But I was told to hang my head and cry
I may have been aware of the anger ahead
But I was watching my back for a lifeline
I may have been worried about the future
When I asked you to cover my steps
I may have been dreaming of another place
When I asked you to marry me
But dear angel that floats on so high
Come down here a while and bless this guy
Perhaps the snakes and candles will entertain you neigh
Perhaps the passion now present will never die
I may have cried all day long
For a woman who had been gone so
I may have worn out the sweater of lust
To a song that had never played on
I may have bled, maybe
