Monday, February 1, 2016

Signs of the Times

It is an oblivious sort of thing.
Walking upon the shores of the aftermath
Feeling the settled ashes give way between ones toes
While the air clouds heavily with smoke stacks
As the bitter feelings of starvation rattle and shake the knees.
Ignorance in the face of Armageddon
Loosening the helpless
To indecision.

Can the call to arms be so terrible
Can casting calls yield better faces
That soak up the suns lessening rays
So that smiles can grow

It is strange this sort of age
When war is no longer a viable tool
When education and knowledge show
That we have but little reasons to kill one another
Yet we create the problems 
Into fables so larger than life

We demand the hellfire rain
We are sick of waiting for the next life it seems
We or those
Those who dream of heaven
Might seek to accept that this life is finished
Might seek to race it onward 
So that they can find paradise in death
Let the bombs drop they'd say
It is a sign of the end times they will cry
God has deemed it so

They self fullfill their prophecies 
Crying for buffoons of irrational anger to sit upon the thrones
A mad man with his hand on the button
A world who looks on upon him with frightening annoyance
We are the butt of the joke
Maybe we always were the joke

If there is no battle what will soldiers do I suppose
If there is no injustice what will the nay sayers balk at
It is a dream that human beings be able to just live in peace
To enjoy the fruits of the labors of countless generations before
To finally grow out of the adolescent selfishness
And greed
The school yard was so long ago
and for all our aging
We are but toddlers
Throwing fits and demanding our toys

Let the bombs fall I suppose
Let our enemies attack
We are already destroyed within
We complain that our government has failed us
But do not want its help
We look for ways to alleviate violence
But build up irrational walls

Calamity will ensue
And I will wonder
If you all care about your children
Why the fuck do you not want to fix this world
If the world is ending tomorrow
Why even try
Why procreate 

The joke is no longer a joke
The fable is no longer viable
I am afraid
I am afraid that my just wanting to live
Is not enough

These expectations
These aspirations
These trials
And this tribulations
Jesus would be ashamed
Of every single one of you
That speak his name
those of you built up with rage
Built up with ignorance
Those who do not accept
Who do not embrace
Who selfishly hold onto all of it

There is the brink
I'm afraid of it
That deep cliff face
Cooler heads seem to prevail
But then we move to put a hot head on the throne
That standby may no longer matter
God almighty,
Though I don't often pray
If you are up there
What the hell have you let us become?

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

The Struggle in the face of the Smothering

When they inevitably fall into the cracks
That litter the whole of the world
The lesser people will sit and fester
Like the infected open wounds that they are
While others will struggle tooth and nail
Clawing their ways to the top
Demanding to be heard
Demanding to be known
But in the end they still know
We are but the ashes
Of a dying stars whims.

Saturday, December 26, 2015


As the girl composed herself
She tucked on the very end of her skirt
So that it covered that much more of her
And as she walked she felt it hiking up
To the point that she thought, though she wasn't, that she was exposing herself
The fabled contraptions about her spun
And men loomed out of coffee house windows
Money in hand, and a nice tailored suit
And though lonely, sat at tables set for two
She kept her eyes forward, books under one arm
And her other loose fingers,
Tugging at her skirt
On the side of the road they were driving on by
Bumper to bumper ignoring road signs
Deciphering her clothes, like they were a safe to be cracked
Materializing an x-ray of both her front and her back
The lights materialized green, and they did not go
The red of her dress urged them to move slow
But her fingers held firmly,
So that she felt fabric to skin
And she kept moving forward
As she rounded the corner the males were all feral
Naked and brutally beating each other
With their groins all exposed
And the hairs on their chest
Protruding from tightened muscles, that littered their physiques
They swarmed over each other,
Skin touching skin
To get as close as they could
To the girl in the midst of the copious amounts of others
Not unlike her who stripped of their clothes and rushed to them
Rubbing themselves against them
But the girl in the skirt, that may have been a little to small
She wanted nothing to do with it, nothing at all
And when she finally made it to the place of her learning
She laid down her books,
And kept her eyes forward
As the men all about her kept staring at her calves
Looking up her legs
Imagining what she had
They used absurd words,
Attempting to get a laugh
And she would smile slightly, but keep her eyes to the class
Her eyes were on the forward momentum
That her brain began to rush
And to her side she saw him,
In a slight peripheral
A man not gawking at her
But intent on his time
And she thought when this was all over
Maybe then, they'd have time.

Sunday, December 6, 2015

Frost Bite

I do not fear the cold
For the cold always welcomes me
Embraces me for the sake of itself
Demanding that I listen to it
Reprimanding my needs for heat
Thinking it's all I need
While slowly slowing my heart beat
Creeping over my shoulders
And inbetween my toes
It knows the horrors I've seen
The cold,
It knows