An angel looked dismayed as they were walking by,
In the morning light reflected off of pools of blood collecting flys,
Buzzards, vultures, coyotes, and the occasional hyena.
No longer to delay,
Awake another blood-filled day,
Out of the sea; the five heads of the beast were screaming.
No one asked for the heroes,
And thought of them as zeros
While they were fighting the beast that didn’t need exterminating.
Morning came again with the red tide.
So many fallen that should not have died,
From ignorance alone,
The beast called the sea his home.
And so will many more after this reading.
Cheers to the callous fools who have no feeling.
I do not often see red tide retreating.
Posted in Musing
Tagged angel, beast, die, fallen, hero, home, light, morning, poem, poetry, pool, red, reflect, retreat, sea, tide
We are all we are
Followed by, but not just this,
They are also us.
In the twilight I sat deceased
While the shadows filled with teeth
I was the child of the night, I was the corpse of dawn.
Nobody wanted change,
Therefore, hence I still remain
While their ignorance brews and their so-called wisdom stagnates.
They do not gather knowledge from,
Everywhere and everyone,
Here’s to a stale world that doesn’t change.
With the light switch out of reach I will remain.
Posted in General
Tagged change, child, corpse, dawn, ignorance, night, poem, poetry, remain, stagnate, twilight, wisdom, world
She doesn’t know that I have seen her scars and
I have spent sleepless nights wondering how she got them.
More than a road map to pain, her blue eyes hide the tears they say
And there will never come a day where I can ask about them.
Her world is upside down, and he is there beside her.
All Of her restless nights, he sings sleepily to her.
I can’t tell if she’s still cold, I watch outside of this window,
She’s upside down, does she know, that I will wait for her?
There is no secret why she always wears her long sleeves
They all know and look away, all of them but me.
We both have the same scars, I know their roots may be different,
It’s been a long time since we could be called innocent.
Maybe one day she’ll see me and maybe one day she won’t.
Just maybe she’ll see how each of us, were broke.
Posted in Life (or something like it)
Tagged broke, cold, innocent, know, pain, poem, poetry, scar, she, sleepless, sleeves, wait, window