A Poem With No Ending

This is no emergency, do not miss a breath!

The girls are doing lines of snow, the boys are Lost in meth.

The parents, well, they have money and it detaches their very eyes

From watching their precious child “do no wrong” to their demise.

 

First, I assume denial built from selfless love they give.

Second, I claim fear, of the life they now will live.

The latter holds not selflessness, but rather it is this they see:

The product they have bred, not the person he or she will be.

 

Now the boys find their minds going a mile with each blink.

And the lovely girls find their hearts in love, or at least they think.

And the parents they will pause, praise, perpetuate, and play

The game that fills the absent time of the white collar parents day.

 

The boys and girls now find themselves on the kabuse of a train-

Crossing the threshold of difference, that now does not remain.

While walking, eyes three inches deep, they do not see reality.

Just another run down whistle-stop, built for them, conveniently.

 

This is not an emercgency, but two young people are now dead.

A boy, he has overdosed, and a girl, one went through her head.

Communities now mourn, but a critic, scratches his righteous beard.

And speaks to what he had foreseen and what the others feared. 

 

But the parents do not hear him, his words float into space.

As time must goes on, he will hold no living trace.

But this circle will continue: it will find no peace in death.

And it will bring your precious prize to his last breath.

 

 

A City In Disquise

These people, they dont live here,

They use it like the sun,

And with their trigger on the gun,

She sulks away in a bloody strife,

As every mammal loses life,

Taking solace in being alone…

 

These people, they live in their phones

Unaware of the darkening skies,

Constructing whatever lies

Lay their fragile heads to sleep,

As the moon will gently weep

For love and life will disappear.

 

The older folk that live here,

The few and far in-between,

Look on with eyes obscene

At what has come of their town:

As a war vet has learned to frown.

The people here live in their minds,

In memories of times so kind.

For sense in what has gone wrong

No poet could recite in song,

So they lay their head to sleep.

With eyes swollen they quietly weep,

For soon their world will disappear.

A Feather In The Wind

Tell me what does it all mean?

Life, death, and in-between?

If one finds love, have they won?

Or has it, rather, just begun?

What is love? What is its worth?

How in hell does it show mirth?

How can you measure what is naught?

How can you fight what can’t be fought?

These questions ring forth and back,

Discover they are far off track,

Disguise themselves as thoughts so fey,

And like a feather, floats away.

A boy is left inside his mind,

A distant fight with words unkind,

He’s taught his thoughts to rescind

He’s a feather in the passing wind.

A Lazy Afternoon

The rain, it pours, on the roof above my head,

Its anger and callousness beats like a drum.

The long strenous journey the lonely drops tread

Are the old memories in an empty bottle of rum.

 

The thunder rumbles from a world unknown to me

Yet to the ear, the masses join beneath the storm.

It is beautiful in a way to realize complacency,

To let the rain dissapate the sorrows of your forlorn.

 

The persistence flucuates with the beat of her heart

Heavier it sounds as she releases a sigh of relief

I close my eyes and realize we all play our part

As the rain finds a hole above, cleaning my grief.

 

I do not mind as we lay moist and intertwined

I would not mind if the rain filled up this tired rom

For everything that was destroyed would not redefine

The warmth I feel in her arms on a lazy afternoon.

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I will die and so will you.

 Sorrowful, and yet it’s true.

But in between you can choose

If you shall win or if you’ll lose.

 

I was born and so were you.

Unbeknownst, and yet it’s true.

We’ll never recollect and yet

It’s a moment we can’t forget

The Princess and the Sea

If you were a princess

And I were the sea,

A prisoner of loneliness,
A pawn of my propensity,

I’d cling to the sight

Of the only windowsill

That grants me your light:

My lonely hearts fill.

But when you look below

And see the endless sea

Contempt is what you show

An innate hatred for me.

For freedom is what I rid you

To walk this earth again,

And though my innocense is true

It’s all the same in the end.

The hopelessness I feel

Materializes into rage

For I fail to steal

Your love from my cage.

So beneath the peaceful moon

I garner its passive hate

And jealously consume

Your also passive fate.

***

When my wrath has setteled in,

When the clouds part ways:

Revealed to me is the sin,

The end of your days.

Reluctantley I approach the shore,

Your body and soul no longer mend.

It took this moment I abhor

To have you in the end.

the Way

She laughs and she cries

At life and at death-

She smiles and she sighs

With her sanguine breath.

She walks from there to me

With wonder in between,

And right then only I could see

A love I’ve never seen.

She’ll gently part her hair

But not from insecurity:

Rather, without a care

Exuding a graceful purity.

Her face absorbs the sunlight

A dancing flower in a field,

And in the moonlit night

She’s truthfully revealed,

For a loving expectation

Can play folly on your mind-

Entrap you in the condemnation

Of your peaceful, hopeful kind.

But my woman she is true:

In days tomorrow and today.

And only in her I knew

That I have found the Way.