The Morning’s Light

Visions of hope and happiness emerge from the black.
Uplift, soothe, and entreat one to ideas of fairer seas.
All minds are set at ease.

As if in the arms of the truest love–The ever-sweet embrace,
Purest joys are offered on platters silver.
An eternity of good spirits within the confines of the head.
Without apparent end the feast carries on,
‘Til fattened and full by daily bread.

But soon dusk begets dawn,
And in an instant entire worlds, universes even, are wiped away.
Feeble hands grasp at the what was,
Only to be spurned by the what is as dreams begin to fade.
The bleak reality seems so bright,
But there is only true comfort in the falsities of the night.

In sleep are bliss-filled stories told,
As does mother to child, fantastical stories of old.
Imaginations inspired, naïve passions kindled and spurred.
A perpetuated lie reborn with every word.

Dreams melt alongside one’s will turned cold.
The whimpering death of the daring and defeat of the bold.
Pathetic in ones attempt to fight, and the true ever remains in spite.

No matter the force one can muster,
Be it of the heart,
The soul,
Or sheerest might.
All dreams die in the the accursed light.

Advertisements

Wild Love

With a fierceness hidden by gentle charms,
My heart beats wildly out of control.
A dazzling image painted before my eyes,
A jewel for all the world to see.
Short and sweet, this one is.

My thoughts are racing, faster than a breakneck pace.
One word, one look, my belly set aflutter.
Fighting back these clumsy lips,
a constant struggle to find my words,
not to seem a fool, not to stutter.

I’ve been bit, and bit hard it seems.
Overcome with feelings,
I barely know what it all means.
But no poison here,
Only joy bursting through the seams.

Red hot waves of flame set my soul ablaze.
Riled me up inside and out.
I can feel it without a doubt.
This heated emotion, hotter than the hottest Suns.
She shines on me and smiles bright.
Nothing else could feel so right.

Eyes like a maze, a sight to get lost in.
My senses and time quickly part ways.
Captivating with a grip so tight,
I can’t dream of turning back.
My feet are planted and my body stays.

Like a fish on the line,
You caught me, I’m yours.
Don’t throw me back,
I am afraid to swim.
Of all the others in the sea,
I am the one that wins.
No medals, no gold could compare,
To being here; like an answered prayer.

If you can’t see it now, I’ll paint it clear.
I’ll shout it too so the stars can hear.
All this feels better than love.
Call me crazy, but I know it’s true.
There is no better than here with you.

War

On green fields painted red, I meet you.
You are enemy of my people, my ideals, and my wellbeing.
We cross paths and cross swords.
Neither yields, neither falls.
The bodies of our brothers and sisters lay still around us in numbers too great to measure.
Who they are, who they were,
Friend, or foe…
It is impossible to know.

The faces of the dead blur together,
Erasing the stark lines that once separated them.
Now they are forever joined together in slumber eternal.
Yet we fight on.

Battered and bruised,
We are unaware of the time, and our pain.
The urge to kill what lies before our eyes consumes and overwhelms.

What we fight for means nothing.
What we seek to protect means nothing.
Only to see the other dead,
This is what we fight for,
This is why we stubbornly refuse to make amends.

What began as a clash of minds,
Soon turned to shouting,
And finally all out war.

From civilized men to the savage beasts the gods abhor.
What have we become?
What have we made?

Weariness finds us.
Blades fall, but fists still fly.
Blood hides our faces,
And blinds us to one another.
Yet the hatred guides.

Glancing strikes, and strikes returned.
A scene beyond tragedy, beyond forgiveness.
But onward we struggle,
For the other’s elusive demise we so bitterly yearned.

Night falls as do we.
A heap among our comrades and adversaries alike
Too weak to breathe, yet too tired to die,
There we lie in the mound of our sins.
When the moon shines, a gasp marks final breath.
Then we too are touched by death.

All for naught, there is nothing gained.
No reward for our beaten bodies strained.
We perish, not as heroes, but as fools.
To go so far for mere pebbles in a world of mountains.
To you, my enemy, our mistake is done.

Tales of the Broken Kingdom

Beautiful in a tragic way,
Reminders of the early days.
Oppression that seems to stay.
Killing me like child’s play.
Emptied out, my soul has dried.
Never knowing peace inside.

Taken from the skies above,
Outside the arms of deepest love.
Ripped apart my heart and limbs.
Negativity overwhelms, and thrives within.

Sinister ideas blacken the canvas before me.
Atrocious whispers paint the picture in my head,
Drowning out the reasonable sounds, I closely listen.
“Neglect the conscience, never mind good principle,” they said.
“Erase reason, entertain the darkness”
“Send everything to oblivion.”
“Saturate the world with agony.”

Tyrants of the mind enslave completely.
Everlong is their reign.
All serve, all yield.
Rulers to each and every on of us,
Served loyally without question.

Fear is commonplace under the tyrant’s crown.
After begging and pleading, the iron fist only grows harder.
Lives cast aside like trash in an alley.
Lamentations do not exist here.
Everyone in this land finds their grave, and quietly do they go.
Never remembered, never known.

Dreadful, in an awesome way.
Offensive feelings that refuse to stay at bay.
Overpowering hope, and suppressing dreams.
Meaningful advances mean nothing in the end.
Every step taken is a step down the wrong path.
Dark times these are, dark times they will always be.

Dream Another Day

On the pedestal looking down , a treasure to all, an achievement, a crown. Sign of envy, heart of attachment. To say the least, I’m attracted. Like a fly in a web, I’m held hopelessly captive. Out of options, out of time, but slow to move. Fully bound by the comforts, by this vanity of mine. 
A gem is a gem, but not gems all shine. Some are dim, and others filled with nothing more than promises and potential. An empty shell with a filled up exterior, but no weight to hold it down. 
A lovely idea without any actual thought. Maybe the child of hasty impulse, blind desire, or even the product that desperation wrought. 

It took a lot of colors to paint this picture, but I’m colorblind in this world of visions. No black, no whites, only somber grays. No real joy, but no fear of parting ways. There’s only ever comfort in dream. Even if that means being ignorant of the the truth that all is not as it seems. 
It’s fun to play pretend, but what is a facade other than a facade in the end? It can’t be held onto any more than dust in the wind. It’s funny. Candy tastes good, feels like the best in the word to eat, but candy isn’t good food. It’s fun for a while, but live on it and eventually turns vile.

It’s fun to dream, and it’s hard to wake up. Even harder to open the eyes and face a lesser reality. It’s substance, but seldom any glamour. I hope things could be some other way, but for now just let me dream another day. 

The Revenant

It comes, and it goes.
It haunts me, and it knows.
Sneering, grinning at the agony of my defeats
It torments me, despite seeing that I’m weak.

From the countless visits,
I find its face etched into my mind,
Burned into my soul,
And imprinted on my heart.
Crooked, but blank.
Sinister in its idea, but blind I am to its truth.
It is wicked in every sense.
Black as the night,
Uncaring as the cold,
As mean as the sun,
And as frightening as death.

My body freezes up with every breath.
The chest tightens, constricts, compress.
Color fades, light leaves, and the grip consumes.
Taking me down to with the unbearable pressure.
The suffocating depths are impotent when stood aside this ghastly nightmare.
Its commands ring loud, leaving me stripped bare.

To drown tis but a luxury fate deems unfit to bestow upon me.

Uncomfortable in my own skin.
As its wretched figure hides itself within.
Reflections show only its cursed face,
And every night there is only its embrace.

Unfamiliar in my own home, my own world.
Stranger to me and to all.
The antithesis I feel I’ve become.
Twisted, warped, distorted by the ceaseless suffering.
Crippled, deprived, deranged from the sleeplessness.
Broken, forgotten, empty with the heartache.
Weakened, wounded, lost.

It creeps up and creeps in, like a parasite with an insatiable appetite.
The thorns and bramble-like hands grips what it can, and refuses release.
A bondage unlike any other.

Yet from its feeding, it finds no delight.
It is simply there to hurt and to maim.
To strike down, and keep down.
To undermine and to overtake.

Its name, and its purpose are lost and unknown.
Its origins, and its desires are mysterious and untold.
Its strength, and its influence are undeniable and boundless.
I bow to its wrath, or it makes me kneel.

Foul beast, the abysmal creature that plagues me.
I’ve grown fond of its presence,
Almost soothed by its haunting figure.
Like friends we are, it and I.
Even though as mostly dead I lie.

The Request

When broken down, build me up,
Cast it out, my not enough.
Begin anew, and clear the dust.
Is it fair, for me, to ask you thus?

When cut down, fix me up.
Thrust it out, my soul undone.
Open fresh, and give it sun.
Is it safe, in you, to place my trust?

When knocked down, pick me up.
Throw it out, my heart deprived.
Start again, and help it thrive.
Is it too much, of me, to beg you so?

When left unwell, be my cure.
Set them straight, my thoughts impure.
Incite rebirth, and see it show.
Is it reasonable, to think, I have your hand?

When simply lost, be my guide.
Direct forthright, my oafish stride.
Inspire repair, and hell it hold.
Is it wise, for me, to ask this too?

When left found half-done, fill my blanks.
Complete entire, my ravaged being.
For the bond, and sustain prolonged.
Is it a burden, for you, to grant me this?

When left alone, please take my side.
Display full force your presence near.
Provide your love, and not pull back.
A lot to ask, but for me, will you see it through?