History Sleeps (day 688)

And your swords
Heel’t by the pressures of oath
Forcing thought from mind
Into duty, sworn and bred

~

It is here where deceit grows
Amongst the cobwebs of freedom
Faith of the free
Growing dissonance

~

But straightened backs
And freshly pressed regalia
Adorned with pride and service
Calm thy boiling blood

~

Hindered with loathe
Confidants biding their time
In halls of betrayal
Seething with ego

Unnatural betrayal hidden
Behind blind eyes of service
Suckling the easy tit of
Mephistopheles

~

While memories float frequently
Between graying hairs
And balding victories
Scavenging the lands of truth

Relying on honor
A choice and a path
Not a reason or calling
But inward honesty

~

Though demons fight unceasingly
Through hushed dark corridors
Escape routes of the squeamish
Icicles of setting winter

~

Until the end remains clear
Ancient avenues of chestnut trees
Above the family crypt
History sleeps as change begins

Future’s Untold (day 645)

Racing through pages
For times and places
Dates and messages
Is history all told

Uncovered and browsed
Traced and recorded
Deciphered and captured
Printed into books

Pages build pages
Names: stepping stones
Discovering, unsettling
Informing and growing

This is the past
Historical highway
Information abundant
Future’s untold

Bow and Arrows (day 597)

Pull me apart with a thousand broken arrows
Tell me secrets of a far off and lonely maiden
Give me history we’ve never written down
And tear out my soul to feed wizards
That grant me three wishes that open realms
I fly to with all winds at my back
For future walks with thousands of bows
Bending under the pressures of love

Patrons (day 535)

We cross the landscape with skilled learning
Master artisans spend hours exemplifying
History teaches the little nuances of technicality
The subtle lines that weave in and out
Outlining [art] history books and large frescoes
That fill the minds of sleeping popes
And battling heroes that grace the walls
Of far off chapels and majestic temples
With sculptures that raise the hair
On the back of your neck as you gaze in wonder
Upward, towards the sky and beating sun
That pluralizes the definition of beauty
Nature, natural landscapes with perspective
And projections who Patrons can feel
They are deserved of glory within
The definition of beauty itself
Standing naked beside the patron saint
Who makes everything make sense.

Cobblestone Streets (day 391)

Memories of a distant land cross through my mind
Ghosts that walk along the same streets
In clothes that have long since been fashion
Talking words that have since been banned
Riding animals that have held legends
Holding court with the people who populate history books

I have walked along these cobblestone streets
I have held hands with the memories that haunt me
Caressing me with sweet words of wisdom
Leading me through paths untrod
Long since abandoned to new-age ruins
I plundered their spoils with hands full of fruits

From a far I saw a wandering angel
I called her by her name, but she did not respond
She didn’t hear my requests as I was not her project
Fluttering her wings, she left me standing
But the lady was stone, and I watched her leave
Music trailing after the wind curls of another time