Once

empybed

Once we were one.

Our lives so entwined,

I could not tell where I began and you ended.

Who would have thought that the closer two hearts get,

The easier they are to break?

Now I find pieces of my shattered heart scattered everywhere.

The knife cutting deeper and deeper until it’s so dull,

I no longer feel the pain.

But when I wake and expect to see your face,

And all I see are empty sheets,

The knife is sharp once again.

The once little house now seems cavernous;

Your laughter echoing down the hall.

To see you hunched over the bathroom sink,

Sedulously applying your make-up;

Even though I thought you looked stunning

Without it.

Why is it so easy to forget the bad?

Why is it so easy to forgive you when you are gone

But not when you were here?

All I know is that I loved you…once.

The Old Man

The old man stared into the mirror;

His eyes once fierce like that of a stormy sea,

Now turned a tepid milky blue;

Swimming in two dark, hollow crescent moons.

 

The fields of gold atop his head now turned to snow.

He stared at his hands; Once taut and firm,

Are now just skeletal remains of what was.

Relics of some forgotten civilization.

 

Suddenly, he is taken over by a fit of spasmodic coughs.

A spray of blood splashes the porcelain sink.

His throat burns like an overused chimney.

The bellows of his lungs gasping, grasping for fresh air.

 

A sickly wave of nausea threatens to consume him,

But he resists to its pleas. He feels exhausted and heavy,

As if gravity was pushing him into the ground.

 

Then, he feels a cold, spidery hand scuttle up his spine

And clamp down on his bony shoulder.

And then he fell into a deep, dark sleep…

Tear Down the Wall

Thousands beat the crowded streets. Fists pumping the air.

Like a raging river sweeping through the city without a care.

Shouts shower the gilded tower, demanding to be heard.

With dejected hearts, they spew their hate upon Hell’s gates to burn

All in the name of “love”.

They stand defiantly divided on united ground,

Building the very wall they swore to tear down.

Feel the beat beneath my feet

Can you feel the beat beneath my feet?

Can you feel the rhythm if the drum?

Can you feel the beat of the Earth?

Dance to her song!

 

I hear the echoes of the past

Flash inside my mind.

I hear the thundering drum;

My people’s wailing cries.

 

I hear my ancestors, the Dine,

The Holy Ones, soaring in the wind.

Their spirits fly towards the Sun,

Then something lets the darkness in…

 

I must feel the beat beneath my feet!

I must feel the rhythm of the drum!

I must feel the beat of the Earth,

So I never forget her song.

 

 

 

The Face of War

I see your eyes, far and lost.

A face frozen in time,

caked in dust and blood.

Dazed and shocked;

There are no tears, no cries.

I see your face so close,

yet so far away.

A picture says a thousand words;

But what words could we say?

The World’s eggshell heart

Breaks every single day,

For the pain, we cannot bear.

How many tears must be shed?

How many bombs must be dropped?

How many people must we destroy

Before we see our own destruction

In the eyes…of a little boy?

‪#‎Omran‬#Syria#War

The Nightwalker

Leaves crunch and crackle beneath my careless step

As the trees sway bare in the wintry breeze.

The streets littered with abandoned cars,

Like long forgotten tombs of yore.

Who drove these mechanical beasts?

What smells linger? Old Chinese?

Cigarette ash? or cheap cologne?

Where are their masters resting their weary heads now?

Leaves crunch and crackle beneath my careless step

And in the heart of Night, my only guiding light;

The stolid comfort of the chilling moon goddess, Artemis.

Her pale light bathing the streets and structures

in a sickly pallor.  I walk the night in an

abandoned city laid to waste, to claim it all my own!

A king of the dead, basking in all its skeletal beauty!

A place to call my own!  A palace for the gods to gather;

to shine once more in all their resplendent glory!

Leaves crunch and crackle behind me and the dreams of

the night slip back into the shadows from whence they came,

waiting for me to bring them back once again.

 

 

Peace in Death

The bullet shoots straight and true,

As he watches her fall to the ground.

His love, his land, his people.

He sees the enmity that gives these evil

Men their hellish wings.  He can smell

The sulfurous winds that allows these beasts to take flight.

He sees the azure sky blacken before his eyes;

The verdant land painted red with his people’s blood.

His black hair furiously whips about his face;

The spirits vying for his attention.

Telling him of the horrors that will follow once the buffalo are gone.

He watches the carnage unfold before him;

His dark eyes, like slits in the blazing sun.

He sees with a heavy heart,

His home raped

And his people ravaged.

He hears Great Father weep upon the

Breast of Earth Mother.  And he feels

The hot stream of tears run down his ancient face.

What have we done to deserve this?

Why, when I ask for peace, am I only answered with death?

As he saw the white man charge upon his horse,

The chief crossed his arms over his broad chest,

And began to sing the Death song.

O Great Father, asetanétóváne.

Through the Eyes of a Poet

I see the shadows cast about your troubled face;

The many dark lines of many sleepless nights.

The grey-lit eyes that try so desperately to reach the surface,

From the dreary depths of madness.

They are the eyes of a dead man;

Flat, dull, and listless.

You wander between the worlds of sleep and wakefulness.

Trying to rid the demons that throttle you at night;

Your throat forever parched.

You hear the damned scream;

Spectral figures that come through the mist;

Calling to you.  Pleading for you to join them.

Creatures crawling towards you; feverishly tugging

At your waistcoat. Their abject faces inches from your own.

Their malodorous breath violating your nose.

Their jaws unhinged. Their mouths wide open in an empty scream.

And in the grip of fear, you assent to their cries

As they pull you into the gaping maw of Madness.

(An Ode to Poe)

Killing Time

I’ve seen him too many times to count.

This modern day vampire, feeding off

Of the life of man. I’ve seen him drain

The life of the young and old.  Seen their

lustrous hair, turn grey and melt into snow.

Flawless faces, now riddled with lines. I saw

Him pull a blade out and carve into

Their flesh, like that of a pumpkin.

He hops on top of a mother’s back,

And watches as she struggles under

His weight.  Within minutes, she’s hobbling

Along like a venerable crone.

He doesn’t know I’ve been waiting for

Him all these interminable years

Waiting for him.  Waiting to kill him.

As he ravages a young child;

Nothing but clothes and bones crumple

She falls into a pile of dust.

As he turns his eyes on me, his grin

Slithers across his face.  He lurches

Toward me, and I brace myself for what

Will come. I raise the dagger to meet

His savage heart; but then he stopped.

“I’m everything and nothing.” Time said.

“You can not kill me with what I was

Born from. I am the fabric that makes

This web we call the “Universe”.  I

Am the great equalizer.  Without

Me nothing could exist.  Not even you.”

“So why do you feed upon us like

Locusts devouring many crops?”

I asked.  “Death isn’t the great evil;

You are. Death is just a gatekeeper.

You are nothing more than a plague put

Upon this earth.” He stared at me

With those slits for eyes. “You see more than

most do in a lifetime.  I will let

You enjoy this moment for now, but

I will be back, because change cannot

Happen without Time.  And to stay the

Same is to die.”