Category Archives: Life (or something like it)

Cities Crumble

When cities crumble after skies fall down,
A curious sun shines upon ruins.
I stand on oceans edge, dead ground.
One won’t see death here for bright day akin
To a cemetery, dry bones, and sin.
Cities crumble and leave no clouds behind,
No churches, or temples we’ve to hide in.
Nothing I see above that’s silver lined.
One doesn’t see God’s hand, raising up storms,
And torching the land. We mustn’t cry out:
“The gods! The gods!”. We’re to blame. On this shore,
I meet the sand and the waves, still with doubt,
God in His heaven, all’s right with the world.
I look on, as this too becomes unfurled.

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There Will Be Wolves

There will be wolves,
And blood will follow.
The sheep may judge and graze and crawl,
The wolf will be the reckoning for them all.
The shepard protects and herds them close,
But still one may choose to stray.
A wolf pays no heed to the opinion of sheep,
That they shouldn’t hunt and kill and eat.
The shepard knows there will be wolves,
And for those who stray,
Blood will follow.

Illusion/Hallucination 

Illusions
Artificial, ephemeral
Deceiving, misleading, twisting
Faint, deceptive, trap, escape
Experiencing, visualizing, believing
Evanescent, surreal
Hallucinations

Rain?drops

Raindrops.
Falling water.
Raindrops still if from eyes?
Being told this is not allowed,
Raindrops.

A Necessity of Tears

Holding onto grief like wilting flowers,
Their beauty is not a gift just for you,
But me; for a passing of the hours.
We all hold our own wilting flowers, true,
So there is no reason to give you mine.
I’ll hold onto these as you do to yours,
One more won’t wilt; I won’t repay in kind.
I’ll keep mine to me, I won’t create more.
All flowers simply wilt before they dry.
This. When the waters they may need are tears,
It is what’s necessary when we cry.
One lets go of this, one lets go of fear.
This. How we heal, how we make flowers bloom.
How we refuse the hearts death and heal soon.

The Path She Strides

The path she takes tends to lean
Towards one side more than the other it seems.
Down the dim-lit path she strides,
They are few but loyal in whom she confides.
Where does she go? Can you see? Does it matter?
They that cross her, she calls each black cat hers.
She knows dawn will come of its own accord,
And how she gets there is as important as her choice of room and board.

Weeds?


A shower comes to springs end.
A new dawn with which to tend,
Each new day having brought a seed,
Whether it a flower or it a weed.
Though who’s to say which one is?
The beholder’s as shallow as it is,
Every daughter and son: a judge unto themselves.
Every court without a jury; mercilessly and unjustly delves
Into the case of assigning value.
Into the ends that suit themselves.