Standing in my boots, snowless at the Christmas door
before the sunrise, just after my day:
Starless from the city, the moon's shadow is brighter than the sky.
If it were more than a sliver as I pass the gate, then I'd say
that it would be blind the night.
I Rushed around the roads, yet settled into my home as I whistled.
Two things, I think as I pass the threshold:
A trust, and her mind's health.
The first wrecked by there being no strength.
She's exhausted; nearly run down.
Yet I'll put myself aside today
to reconcile what's now gone, and lay down by her side.
Because some of us just need some comfort
and some of us just need to be home.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Not Saying
With the sun come up, I go.
I’ve hit the highways to find what I need at home.
A long time coming, I’ve gone.
Nothing to guide me but the paint (just a recommendation)
and her curves (which are such comfort!).
I didn’t even notice the first hundred cities,
burnt by with fuel and blown away by the desert.
You’ll be lucky to find me where you stay, regardless of my findings.
I’m not saying that you don’t have luck – I’m just saying.
I’m sure that I’ll miss you, some but not all.
If only as I miss a meal:
Full for a while, but to be hungry again.
I’ve hit the highways to find what I need at home.
A long time coming, I’ve gone.
Nothing to guide me but the paint (just a recommendation)
and her curves (which are such comfort!).
I didn’t even notice the first hundred cities,
burnt by with fuel and blown away by the desert.
You’ll be lucky to find me where you stay, regardless of my findings.
I’m not saying that you don’t have luck – I’m just saying.
I’m sure that I’ll miss you, some but not all.
If only as I miss a meal:
Full for a while, but to be hungry again.
Your Numbers
Your numbers,
I see you holding them too closely.
They’ll never,
line up again like they did today.
What do you hold so dear,
as to transcend fact into reality;
as you are thinking correctly;
as you hold so dear?
(Second Column)
The Gods of man are just that.
All of them from one strand of truth.
Paired spirals out from one truth.
Yet they forget that they’re all of one man.
That frequency, that resonance, that vibration
are all an interface with this medium.
Your thoughts are living things of unimaginable power,
Even in a world so cold; impersonal.
I see you holding them too closely.
They’ll never,
line up again like they did today.
What do you hold so dear,
as to transcend fact into reality;
as you are thinking correctly;
as you hold so dear?
(Second Column)
The Gods of man are just that.
All of them from one strand of truth.
Paired spirals out from one truth.
Yet they forget that they’re all of one man.
That frequency, that resonance, that vibration
are all an interface with this medium.
Your thoughts are living things of unimaginable power,
Even in a world so cold; impersonal.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Our alarms have failed!
Our alarms have failed!
They praised the selfish, wicked motivators,
they very ones who they swore to betray to the people!
Those alarms who were commissioned to challenge the power,
promising transparency,
promising assured caused,
promised a challenged power that feared doing its people wrong.
Then they sang songs of justly death!
They sang the lies of the wicked,
the hell-bent death bringers.
Greed, gold and their riches.
Who knows more? Those who toil for steel or those who toil for gold?
The dead bull -- embalmed in blood gold,
deep-fried in the lives of the followers.
It's alright though, let's, just forget about it.
Let's forget about the terrible things that never happened.
That one over there? Take his whistle!
It betrays that cause, now mine.
Cut his neck like he's a traitor and pool his blood at the feet of the war beasts who stomp on.
Cut his neck like he betrayed his cause, the cause that we all loved from early on.
To Have Died With No Peace
I’ll wait yet another day for such a love to survive.
One that will remember that we are all of the same body, which thrives together within love and patience, yet will bleed, suffer and die alone.
It’s afar in the desert, but some want it here.
I hope’t it stays away, and that we’ll be wiser for it.
Blood in the desert,
A changed key to the answers to the answer that was never right.
Those who held the trust of Nations and respect of the World squelched the dissent and portrayed its love and accomplishments.
We all believed, or so they’d want us to remember.
Those who forced the momentum to the wheel were never punished; rewards of gold and praise filled their homes, their bloodlines and their egos.
It should have been the blood that they spilt, and nothing else.
It should have been their blood that split, and no one else.
I’m sorry for what we allowed.
So young and naïve; I loved the wars.
Now I can see the lands, although from up above.
That fight is not who I am; I can’t wear those boots that now bear the fear, the dead and unhealed.
On the wings of a machine, down I gaze upon these men who spirit and lives – wasted on lies.
I pray for those gone, to rest in peace.
And for those left, just to rest; never the same and never to be young again.
Can’t you imagine the torment of the dead? It’s beyond me.
To have believed, in a lie.
To have fought, and take lives.
To have died with no peace.
…
Remembering a decade of blood that we’re trying to bury in the sands brings me to hope for a Hell for those who love the lie that stole lives, belief and peace.
One that will remember that we are all of the same body, which thrives together within love and patience, yet will bleed, suffer and die alone.
It’s afar in the desert, but some want it here.
I hope’t it stays away, and that we’ll be wiser for it.
Blood in the desert,
A changed key to the answers to the answer that was never right.
Those who held the trust of Nations and respect of the World squelched the dissent and portrayed its love and accomplishments.
We all believed, or so they’d want us to remember.
Those who forced the momentum to the wheel were never punished; rewards of gold and praise filled their homes, their bloodlines and their egos.
It should have been the blood that they spilt, and nothing else.
It should have been their blood that split, and no one else.
I’m sorry for what we allowed.
So young and naïve; I loved the wars.
Now I can see the lands, although from up above.
That fight is not who I am; I can’t wear those boots that now bear the fear, the dead and unhealed.
On the wings of a machine, down I gaze upon these men who spirit and lives – wasted on lies.
I pray for those gone, to rest in peace.
And for those left, just to rest; never the same and never to be young again.
Can’t you imagine the torment of the dead? It’s beyond me.
To have believed, in a lie.
To have fought, and take lives.
To have died with no peace.
…
Remembering a decade of blood that we’re trying to bury in the sands brings me to hope for a Hell for those who love the lie that stole lives, belief and peace.
Friday, December 9, 2011
I Stayed
Why would they peel it back so many years after?
Especially with the truth so well covered, covered in a decay of sands so loose.
All of our people were so happy to have traveled away:
New lives.
New homes.
All into a new life, they walked away.
They chose to walk away.
It was their choice to go, when I alone, I stayed!
The Masters made it so clear: fix it, or walk away.
I alone stayed, for I remembered its beauty against the desert plains.
It is a sad panic to share with those so forgotten, not forgotten.
I alone stayed and rebuilt these towers of man.
Since the parted days, I toiled from the worse.
Since rebuilt, they return now, only to spoil the wonders of the best.
These people, so ungrateful to the splendors that I’ve raised from debris now return.
They’ve enjoyed their fucking vacation; their Holy days.
All of our people were so happy to have traveled away:
New lives.
New homes.
All into a new life, they walked away.
Especially with the truth so well covered, covered in a decay of sands so loose.
All of our people were so happy to have traveled away:
New lives.
New homes.
All into a new life, they walked away.
They chose to walk away.
It was their choice to go, when I alone, I stayed!
The Masters made it so clear: fix it, or walk away.
I alone stayed, for I remembered its beauty against the desert plains.
It is a sad panic to share with those so forgotten, not forgotten.
I alone stayed and rebuilt these towers of man.
Since the parted days, I toiled from the worse.
Since rebuilt, they return now, only to spoil the wonders of the best.
These people, so ungrateful to the splendors that I’ve raised from debris now return.
They’ve enjoyed their fucking vacation; their Holy days.
All of our people were so happy to have traveled away:
New lives.
New homes.
All into a new life, they walked away.
Fix It
...mind’s broken down, confusing everyone around.
Nature’s got a way.
Nature’s got a way.
Seems pretty obvious to know when everything’s been done before.
I’d love to say that I’m reluctant, but look how much time it’s been already!
Seems funny about the wait, is that once you grown out of it, it’s just about impossible to go back to the healthy youth.
Yeah, not much you can do about reality.
Nature’s got a way.
Right now, you’re so much better worded.
Your memories serve you well.
Just a flash passed what could have been your eternity; I can’t remember the sight, just the face.
But you, you remember what would otherwise quickly fade.
And nature’s got a way.
Forsake the day to clear my head at night, just for these dark wintry days, so that I’ll know the way to fix it, or walk away.
Nature’s got a way.
Nature’s got a way.
Seems pretty obvious to know when everything’s been done before.
I’d love to say that I’m reluctant, but look how much time it’s been already!
Seems funny about the wait, is that once you grown out of it, it’s just about impossible to go back to the healthy youth.
Yeah, not much you can do about reality.
Nature’s got a way.
Right now, you’re so much better worded.
Your memories serve you well.
Just a flash passed what could have been your eternity; I can’t remember the sight, just the face.
But you, you remember what would otherwise quickly fade.
And nature’s got a way.
Forsake the day to clear my head at night, just for these dark wintry days, so that I’ll know the way to fix it, or walk away.
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