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Mostly a collection of my own writing works, poetry/songs, quotes i enjoy, occasional artwork etc.

Propaganda

I smile
As I murder my son
With 16 megapixels -
He smiles
As the shutter makes like rocket fire
But still does not wake the Gods - 
You will not remember
My name or my sins
But you will see where I have been 
And the picture will not remind you of
His name or his sins
But it will tell you what we did
And the way we chose to live -

Lies and fuel
For further lies still
The oldest enemy of peace:
Propaganda kills

Once A Word

Once we thought up a word

That ravaged the synapses, wrapped itself around the lobes and made a home in our minds

Once we wrote a word

That caused the digits clenched around the pen to crack and carved itself upon them too

Once we read a word 

That tensed and stretched the tendons in the eye and blinded us from the beauty of the waking day it made

Once we said a word

That stung the tongue to say and lingered bitter as scarred buds when winter came but always sweet of after-taste

And we were surely wounded by this word

But we remained unbroken

That word was peace

And the world has spoken.

Find a New Poet

I repeated 
Repeated the same words
Words in a different order
Ordered differently 
Differently enough to hope
Hopefully convince you
That I’ve changed -
I haven’t.
The meager poetry
Of a meager man
Can scarcely touch upon
The abstraction
Of the effervescent radiation
That from your soul
Emits warming rays
Harmful to the unprotected
And splays strands of intangible
                                   indefinable
                                   suffocating beauty
around the neck I stretch out for you - 
The neck I stretch out for you, around 
The differently ordered grammatically sound
Unprofound varying inflections and lexical 
Choices that such a meager man can not make -
I have not changed.
My words have not changed.
Find a new poet.

Brothers

I dreamed that we were brothers;
The earth had birthed us and we lay
With smiles that spread across oceans
As we played at war -
Our hands were bruised symmetrically
And scars from mother’s punishing
Spelled siblings in the closeness they displayed
And then I woke from that sleep -
I dreamed that we were brothers
Looking through the different ends
Of a telescope and barely able to tell
Whether the lens reflected my eye or yours
as we aimed for each other’s soul -
Then only a mirror divided us and we guided
Eyes away from our own judgement and shooting
Ancient bullets baring shared initials gifting the seven years of bad luck to our children
And then I woke from that sleep - 
I dreamed that we were brothers
Hip bones bent to touch through bloodied soil
Of the Earth that birthed us in which we now lay
And I can not wake from this eternal sleep -
Seven years passed and the last of the children to remain
Was laid to rest in a grave with no name
Atop that of another who died in the same fruitless vain
And then brothers clasped hands and cursed the shame of it all
As they played and prayed away their own sleep.

Prompt by mikeyfer: Land of Fire

I stood atop the mountain
choking on the smoke that rose around me
still gripping the torch tightly -
I watched the wind whirl ashes
into spiraling ghosts of the people
who lived below -
She had said that she liked red
and that life was dull there
so I set the place ablaze to impress her -
When the flames had died down
I went in to see her
but could not find her in that land of fire.

We Ran From Fire Into The Storm

We ran from the fire into the storm -
Inked identified was not enough
that stars would shine and in their light
still ashen faced and frightened of the dark
There were flames that boiled tears
before they could fall and wretched
hollow hallowed bodies etched their faith
into concrete floors and gravity would not stop them -
Eyes that blazed against the cold crazed stare
of the eagle who bore the hatred
now shake with the reflected face of grandchildren
Who we begat only because we ran -
From the fire into the storm
as now there are stars too
Which challenge the moon
and shoot through the night with trails of light
and land in pieces so that peace is 
the memory
like grandfather’s story 
and sorry
for living 
Sorry for being
the human being
that in me lives
and from me is breathed
and bled
as it has for centuries
and more
So ask me again
If this is a man.

Unpaint

That the waves might unpaint me
from the walls you built
that cast growing shadows
on the ocean -
That as the sun drys the brick
and erases the shadows as it sets
there will remain some heat
to warm you.

In the Old Bottle

Prompt by lydiateasedaleFairies trapped in old bottles

It was the bitterest shame
to see the decline
that slowed her wings
and dulled her eyes
She filled the room
with whimsy and glee
though the truth was something
We couldn’t see
She’d brightly dance
and share her spirit
and drinking was just
a part of it
we thought
and though she’d drink more
in the latter days
she had just as much love
in her shining face
so it was the bitterest shame
We did not see her sorrow
and now she is trapped
In the old bottle

Picture prompt by riversroadsandroses:

image

Ethereal was not a word we’d used before
But as the fog graced the trees 
And ferns that grew vivaciously
From the moistened soil around the forest’s ankles
It was a word whispered in the air
And echoed between sprites whose vibrant play
Made well pleased travelers of us
Tickled by the gaiety with which
They leaped from the shrubberies -
The path might have lead us home
Or away
It needn’t have mattered in the effervescent dew
or the spattered drops it painted on the humble leaves
for the sweetness of that rich air
did linger timeless on the morning’s tongue.