Weathering

These clouds remain
Pouring their rain
Sparking from the friction
They wait to ignite flames
Striking the dry brush of resentment
Burning away into anger
Desire to hide
Attempt to get away
Retreat into a fortress of misery
But only darkness awaits there
Deeper and blacker than the shadows of the clouds
A prison built and maintained by the self
While that torture lasts, so does the storm
Inescapable if unchallenged
To see the sun again, shrug off the chains of pity
Dismantle the walls of self-sorrow
Remove the shell of personal hell
And see a crack in the sky
A patched quilt warming the landscape
Shape the weather without knowing the forecast
And you may come to realize
That cloudy skies can be the most beautiful

Shadows

A shadow on the heart.
Stormclouds gather on a winter's day.
Freezing rain pours down.
Pray for sun to pierce the veil,
But that day is long in coming.
A chill wind.
The spine tenses.
Hair raises, senses on alert.
It is coming.
Cracking like a glacier, pushing waves of despair.
To catch a snowflake on the tongue tastes bitter.
To trudge through the piled snow saps strength.
When will the spring come?
When will green leaves return to bare branches,
Smooth grass cover the hard, dark soil,
And flowers paint their tapestry?
All the world waits breathlessly,
All of one's world waits for what's next.
Waiting. Yearning. Longing.
All that is ever known.
When will a new fire melt this sheet of ice?
When will the walls of fantasy stop collapsing,
Endlessly building and tearing themselves down?
Control wrested away by the claws of fortune,
Determination lost in a sea of madness.
Ensnared, the creature cannot escape.
Not for a time.
Thorns of a rose, a flower,
So easily missed, so unintentionally placed,
And so sharp to the touch.
Bless the hand that takes away.
Turn back to naive innocence and find the door shut.
One day, the clouds will part, the light return,
The spirit will be reborn.
But until that day,
When suffering turns to satisfaction,
A shadow on the heart remains.

To the End

A crisp chill in the air,
Wind rustling the dead branches,
Frozen mud crackling underfoot.
Sun and cloud vie for dominion,
Light and shadow compete for my gaze.
Shivering souls hustle from class to class,
Wrapped and bundled to shut out the cold.
Fireplaces and cocoa arm the students
In their war on winter's encroachment.
Hurrying, finishing, preparing, waiting.
An end in sight.
Those who've grown closer, about to be parted,
Wishing for home, but wanting no goodbyes.
The door is closing, the page turning.
The final approach to the finish line.
The end of another year.

Pathfinding

White powder blows across a street lamp's glow,
A glittering, moving sheet of fresh-falling snow.
Mud pulls down on my shoes, urging me to stay.
I cannot, for a great many tasks fill every day.
As the wind splashes my face like waves on the coast,
I think of the faces and times I remember the most.
Times of joy, times of pain, triumph, and sorrow.
More of these await on and after the morrow.
No sun lights my way, the moon I cannot see.
Electric lamps reflect on the wet paths for me.
I know where to go, my goal is quite clear,
But the ways to get to it are what I fear.
Sweat, blood, tears, anger, frustration, and toil
Pull me backward and downward like the soft, soaked soil.
The work never ends, it seems; an endless endeavor.
I feel like I'll be here, cold and dragging, forever.
Indeed, the road has no true end, not on this world.
It's after this life that the truth will be unfurled.
So I walk onward, ignoring my heart's dismay.
I travel the path, hoping to find myself along the way.

Cold Night

The bleak and piercing cold
Makes my bones feel old.
Misery untold.
Finding nothing warm,
Try to do no harm,
By raising no alarm.
Stumbling in the black,
Fall flat on my back.
Brace for the attack.
For a helping hand,
I dare not to demand.
But yet I cannot stand.
Lost without a friend.
The world my soul to rend.
This must be the end.
Such a state of mind,
To be so fully blind
And think life so unkind.
Despite the worst of men,
Though shiv'ring in my den,
The sun will rise again.

Authorship

To type the words upon the page,
A monstrous undertaking.
Though quickly done in this our age,
My pace is slow and breaking.
Creating worlds of wrath and woe,
I wish to tell a story.
Of battle with a mighty foe,
And throes of human glory.
Though vivid pictures fill my mind,
My hands grow tired and weighted.
I seek a place in humankind,
My deeds all celebrated.
I can't go on; my head, it aches,
My wrists are sore; I stumble
O'er plots, and twists, and where to take
My hero 'fore I crumble.
Press on, press on, I hear one say.
Let not your dream unravel.
'tis soon you'll wake and find the day
When to those heights you've traveled.
The voice is mine, my heart and soul
Wage war against my sadness.
I cannot fail to reach my goal,
E'en if it leads to madness.
So fly, my fingers, soar, my words.
Break through the limitations.
Paint skies and men and tales unheard.
Unleash imagination.

Mysterious Ways

I strain to hear the sounds of joy and love,
But all I hear is thunder in my head.
I hope to find a message from above,
Yet all the trust in self from me is bled.
We turn to earthly loves for reassurance,
Put trust in our possessions for our rest.
A useless salve for sinful convalescence,
Attempting to avoid our wrongs confessed.
A laugh, a gift, a word from friend or brother
Is oft the last thing left for us to cling to.
We wish for God to rend the clouds asunder
And write the course of action we must see to.
But who's to say that word or deed of kindness
Is not from God? We miss it in our blindness.

Peak

Looming peaks.
Mountains of my making.
I have to climb.
If not for me, then for those
Who pushed me up this far.
Warmth of inaction fading fast,
I must start the charge.
To survive, you must jump into the jaws.
Sheer walls of terror,
Built on a cliff face of frustration.
Climb over or barrel through,
Letting the bricks bounce off my tense shoulders.
Freezing winds batter my face,
And I begin to lose human feeling.
The way through is a fire.
Choose the right one.
Rage burns, desire fuels.
Motive.
Hope to avoid an avalanche,
Knowing falling is not an option.
Few anchors to pick from.
Drop down and wait out the storm.
This blizzard too shall pass.
The peak, never seen, shines like the sun.
Blinding.
Below the base is nothing,
A bottomless pit of mediocrity.
No guide but God,
No rope but hope,
Thus begins the ascent.

Cold

shiver

Spine tingles.
Feeling spineless.
Curled into self,
Trying to shut out and in.
Fire warms the body, but not the soul.

shudder

Bleak past, present, future.
Unable to create one's own hope.
Limbs and mind sapped of vivacity,
Doomed to a day of inactivity.
Frozen over heart.

smolder

Blame the self, the stranger.
Lashing out.
Shatter the ice and conscience,
Leaving a pool of broken aspiration
Amidst the nervous perspiration.

satiate

Feed mind and body.
Sustenance and human contact.
Enjoy.
Find an equilibrium
In the distractions of a few friends.

serve

Interrupt the dark thoughts
With the light of tasks at hand.
The future waits,
But I cannot.
Work now, wallow later.

surrender

Make my way to the waiting faces.
A care, a concern, all I could ask.
Numbness fading.
Held by the circle, I won't fall yet,
Not while I still feel one warm breath.

A Performance

Gathering storm.
Clouds form in the mind while the stomach churns.
Anxiety, anticipation.
Fret over frets.
Worry over words.
Which one will fail first?
Confidence crumbling,
Staunchness stumbling,
Temper tumbling.
The multitude materializes.
All waiting, watching,
Witnessing my panic.
One before and out I go,
Flanked and frightened.
What am I doing?
I remember.
Voice breaks free like a slave from his shackles,
Losing its chill and embracing the warmth
Of passion and song.
The butterflies escape,
A beautiful relief.
So it begins.
Consternation turns to comfort
As I croon to the crowd.
I strike gold and awe as I combine
Two of the best things I can.
Shouts, whistles, applause.
Striking oil in what felt like a desert not long before.
The room is an oasis,
My thirst for making music assuaged
By the assuring onlooking faces.
Receive nothing but praise,
Hear my prowess proclaimed.
Forget the flubs,
Cast away the concern.
This is what I wanted.

Now, what was I so afraid of?

As Time Turns

Lose track of time.
Waiting for the next,
Whatever it may be.
Inherited promise of an inheritance
Dangles in the future, rooted in the past.
What brought us here?
Lifetimes disappear in the timeline
Of the one life with no line,
Yet like a line, with no ends.
Ex nihilo, kommt Alles.
As we wrack and wreck our brains,
Failing to understand what we understand,
It was all crafted.
Quantum by quantum,
Endless photons forged.
Space, matter, the elements beyond ken.
Understood by one.
Realized.
We fall in the middle,
Wall ourselves off from revelation,
And attempt to crawl back up the mountain we call truth,
Jumping off the cliffs at every opportunity.
Some are pulled up, thrashing, flailing, trying to fall away.
Struggling in vain.
We are anchored to another mountain.
Our fulcrum.
Two beams, perpendicular.
The center of the universe.
One moment in time determines all time,
And we stand in awe.
Our lives, so short, yet so long,
So full of suffering.
We're blind.
Life is so much bigger.
Longer.
Larger.
Slain by the sword, the writ, the ridicule,
Our army stands.
Broken, battered, buried.
We cannot be stopped.
Wars come and go, but the battle rages on,
So we think.
The back of the book is already written,
Though we can't read it from our page.
That end, so perfectly written,
So incomprehensible,
Awaits the end of our misery.
The opposite of our current life is not death.
It is ecstasy.
We seek purpose.
It's already before our eyes,
In front of our hands,
Ripe for the taking.
But we spit on it and go on our way,
So conceited and arrogant.
To believe that we are smarter than anyone else,
Too smart for a love beyond any we could hope for.
Our intellectual brutality dominates society.
We applaud ourselves for enlightenment as we slaughter our progeny,
Aztecs at a government-funded temple.
Human sacrifice for an agenda to rule all mankind.
Blood flows as we tear ourselves to pieces and devour the evil,
Gluttons for damnation.
Celebrating debauchery,
Cursing the light and making love to the darkness,
All the while complaining that we can't see.
Thus the world stands,
Turning, hurtling, burning.
The few,
Those tied to the truth,
Are dragged up along the rocks,
Weeping for equal parts joy and sadness,
While the world spins out of control.

Tired

Sleep. I need sleep.
Consciousness unwanted.
Over breakfast, slowly realize
The extremity of exhaustion.
Forcing myself to participate,
Another class rolls by.
This day needs to end.
Morose midday.
All the wrong thoughts come flooding back.
Lurch through lunch,
Try not to make friends fret.
Nothing's wrong, exactly.
One more class.
Snapping back to reality.
Again.
Again.
Take the quiz.
Is this right?
Who knows?
Turn it in, walk away.
Try to trust myself.
Waiting for one last display,
Fend off frustration and feelings of failure.
Brief break of boring,
But once again I'm dozing.
Finally, the last demand of the day: dinner.
Eat, talk, laugh, distract the self.
Repress regrets.
Day winds down,
So does my head.
Remember that only your mind let you down.
Tomorrow is a new day.
Dare to enjoy it.

Return

Through the gloom I walk.
Deep in thought, my senses engage,
Distracting my occupied mind.
Smell of recent rain fills the chilled air,
Which bends around me, causing a shiver.
Street lamps illuminate the path I must take.
I hear the squelch of newly softened mud beneath my feet,
Mixed with the rustle of wet leaves.
The sidewalk shimmers like the stars,
Reflecting the incandescent guidance.
Above me crackle the leaves and branches,
Releasing their watery burdens as the wind blows.
I focus on a lamp.
The soaked surface refracts into a fixed firework,
Ringed by a rainbow.
My soles press the soil, not quite sinking,
As I return to my home away from home.

Burden

Physical ailment collides with emotional turmoil.
Inner defenses fail, outward aggression manifests.
Now is not the time.
Fury follows fury, an inferno inside,
All while losing my voice.
So much to say without a way to say it,
Or knowing which way is right.
A way to vent, take out the anger,
In a contest of skill and will.
Yet it too is ruined and abandoned.
Simmering, smoldering, I have to start singing.
Steel the nerves and calm the heart.
A comfort is found in the sounds of songs,
And the applause of an appreciative audience.
At last I crumple.
The morn brings a reprieve,
A respite from the winds of fortune.
This is a day to enjoy.
Hiding from the world in a small room,
Around a large table.
Surrounded by those who matter most,
Walled in from the assault,
Though nothing can prevent the exhaustion.
Thus begins another week, another chance to get things right.
I stretch my weary shoulders and put on the old yoke,
The one I wanted to handle.

Proposed Purpose

Contemplating infinity.
A universe known and unknown.
Worlds surround the world,
And we float onward.
The astral veil
Covers the unseen.
Countless wanderers mirror our home.
Do they have a destination?
To what end soar the comets,
The suns, the galaxies?
Is their destiny simply to exist and expire?
Is there no greater purpose
Than to live and to die?
The infinitesimally small
Ponders its place in limitless space.
A fluke, a chance, pure circumstance.
This is what is said to be.
Live your life and be done with it.
Do we accept?
Or take exception?
Dare we dream that we are something more
Than the universe's bastard orphan?
Can it be that humanity
Is more than a category?
Did no one want us?
Did nothing intend us?
Or are we the unique piece of the universe?
I say: we are not an accident.
We are not an anomaly.
We were meant to be.
Children playing in a giant mansion,
Barely comprehending our inheritance.
Swinging on the chandelier of space,
Sliding down the bannister of gravity,
We await ownership
Of the house of God.

Dreamt

Lose consciousness with me.
Close your eyes to reality,
And join me in entering the world of dream...

Stay with me awhile.
You don't need to leave.
Stay here, in my arms.
Don't remember it's not real.
In a dream you appear,
And my biggest fear,
Is that I'll wake up.
Don't fade away.
Fade away.
Away.

Horrific scene unfolds.
Impending danger.
He is coming.
Look for the signs, they're all around.
Trapped in your own comfort.
He is coming.
No warning can be given.
He approaches.
The fear grows.
Terror grips.
Death.

Carefree and limitless,
Ignoring the absurdity,
I fly.
Skimming trees,
Cutting clouds,
Flowing past friends.
As effortless as a feather falling,
I take up my true calling.
Into the sky.

A feeling of ecstasy.
Everything goes right.
A vague yet powerful happiness,
Hopefully eternal.
One could live like this forever.
The morning pierces the veil.
Clinging to the joy, it sifts like sand through fingers.
It is gone.

Good morning.
Welcome back to the world.

The Music

Softly sweeping over the room
Conjuring a haze that envelops
Lulled to calmness
A piercing jolt, a dissonance
Puncturing the harmony
Awaken the senses
Holding sway over a beleaguered mind
Replacing all else
One melody leads to another
And a day unfolds
Consciousness unravels
Relaxed or attentive
Passive or engaged
The ears govern
Crossing the Styx with an aural ferryman
Leisurely sailing on notes of grace
Swiftly the songs invade
The walls crumbled
The gates open
My world welcomes you
Long may you reign

Thinking of You

Get out of my head;
Falser words were never left unspoken.
A face I can't replace
Confines my mind.
How can I miss you if you won't go away?
Separation is only physical.
It's not a problem, but there's no solution.
Try to salve a troubled mind.
Holding on to hopes,
Always staying hopeless.
You probably don't feel the same.
Or do you?
Wondering about wondering.
Why not?
It won't make a difference.
Just the same stable instability.
But enough about me.
How about you?
Perhaps we'll meet in a daydream.
I'll see you there,
Just like every day.

Anything

I could write anything.
Gods and men,
Truths and morals,
Principle, parable, and prophecy.
Worlds unknown, unseen, unheard.
Abstractions of abstractions,
Metaphysical metaphors.

I could write anything.
Conquests and wars,
Heroes fallen, kings slain,
History written and rewritten,
Only remembered by the victors.
Blood spilled in fields, forests, deserts,
Seeds of destruction sewn beyond measure.

I could write anything.
Desire and longing,
Old adages of romance,
Classic themes of repeated failures.
Loves seen and felt,
Hearts broken and filled.
The sting of a rose's thorn.

I could write anything.
A single day,
Exploration of simplicity,
Recollection of images,
Words said or paraphrased.
Observations,
Dissertations.

I could write anything.
Music and harmony,
Rhyme and rhythm,
Encompassing an aural atmosphere.
Taste, genre, theme.
The notes of strings and souls.
Passion of the masses.

I could write anything.

I wrote this.

Flip

Fallen off the cliff
On top of the world
Drowning at the bottom
Risen to the surface
The difference one day can make
Structural collapse reducing to rubble
Body reconstructed from simple material
Emptiness of spirit
Filled with morsels
Doesn't take much
But it takes everything
Alone in the universe
Surrounded by companions
Lost in a drought
Satiated to the brink
A simple command changes it all
It only takes one moment
One instance
One communion
To life the countenance and flip the soul

The Promise

When the world comes crashing down,
And all is left a smoking ruin.
When the floodgates open,
And the salt flows over open wounds.
When all sense of balance is lost,
And you descend down into the darkest of pits.
When the skies burn.
When the earth no longer turns.
When the sun goes black.
When friends turn their backs.
Hearts break.
Walls shake.
Imposters fake.
Thieves take.
War.
Famine.
Conquest.
Death.
When all is lost, forgotten, and ruined.
When there's no light,
No will to fight,
Eternal night.
When agony sets in,
Burns from within,
And you can't win.

When it all shatters,
When it most matters,
I'll be there.

What It Does

Leading people astray
Obfuscating rationality
Voracious and unsatisfied
Excruciating
Hiding happiness
Undermining joy
Restricting the heart and lungs
The thing that brings together
Sometimes goes wrong

Blake poems

I wrote these for a school assignment two years ago. They're supposed to be in the style of William Blake.

The Wolf

Wolf, in white, why dost thy claw
Make fearful weapon of thy paw?
Shouldst thou not lie at side of man
According to His noble plan?

Fierce and proud, thy fearsome pack
Dost prowl and wait for the attack.
You prepare your own great feast,
A bounty for the grisly beast.

A predator purely at heart,
You tear the other beasts apart.
What craft would be designed to make
The others doomed to bend and break?

Could He who forged this weapon great,
Toiling in the hours late,
Have made the gentle streams and fields,
While power such as yours He wields?

So similar to man’s best friend,
Yet he you could so quickly end.
The one lies by its master’s side,
But you maintain your feral pride.

Wolf, in white, why dost thy claw
Make fearful weapon of thy paw?
Shouldst thou not lie at side of man
According to His noble plan?

The Goat

Bleating goat, on you is placed
All wrongs that can by man be traced.
Cursed to walk through desert dry,
You were thus condemned to die.

Sacrificed to take the blame,
Offered up through knife and flame,
Guilt absolved through pain and death,
Sin leaves with your final breath.

You did no wrong to call your own,
Other’s deeds on you were thrown.
Doomed to suffer for man’s plight,
You enter darkness to bring light.

Pure and spotless you must be
To take wrath from humanity.
Brought before the great high priest
In the lands far to the east.

In the past, you died to take
The condemnation to fiery lake
To one, a man, you did foretell
Who saved us from the pits of Hell

Bleating goat, on you is placed
All wrongs that can by man be traced.
Cursed to walk through desert dry,
You were thus condemned to die.

Our Race

The silence stabs, wounds, but never kills.
Walls of ice section off contact.
So easily broken, so easily shattered,
But never melted.
Get up, fall down.
Life's a constant stumble.
Never sure of your footing,
Blundering along like a drunk fool.
Knowledge; useless.
Debate; pointless.
Egos sap the fun out of fun.
The filling and refilling leads to nothing,
But an empty, dreary tiredness.
Stupid mistakes haunt a stupid brain.
Things said, unsaid, said wrong.
People run around with boxes to fit you in.
Protest, and you fit in the bad box, the trash,
To be thrown out with all the other wrong opinions.
To meet hatred with vengeance,
Stupidity with disdain,
Ignorance with ego,
It's all too easy.
Passing the blame from yourself,
To the other, then back to yourself.
As long as everyone's miserable.
And so we wander, like sheep with no shepherd,
Dashing madly to the next hole to fall in,
A crevasse to shatter our bones in,
And relieve us of our touted freedom.
The human race, ladies and gentlemen.
The race to oblivion.

Ready.

Set.

Go.

Good Friday

The darkest day
A man convicted of committing no crime
The faithful are hidden
The faithless triumphant
One true hope struck down before their eyes
Betrayed, beaten, bloodied, berated
Suffering no man should have to endure
Fueled by envy and ignorance
Ultimate regicide
The blackest night falls
Yet in the darkness lies the dawn
The spit on his face cleanses impurity
The stripes on his back mark us with glory
Each insult they hurl brings us good word
Each strike they deliver lessens our pain
Thorns pierce his head, and we are anointed
Nails driven in break through our chains
As his drops of blood fall, our souls quench their thirst
As he is lifted to death, we arise to life
The fall of man
The pain of God
Everything rises again

An Ode

Notes, rhythms, words
Composed, arranged, performed
Limitless
New sounds discovered
Old sounds revisited
Nothing lost, everything gained
So many different ways to do the same thing
Move the soul
Emotions, meanings, inspirations
Enter the ear straight through to the heart
Technology used to evoke primal feelings
Simplicity, complexity, all find their place
Recommendations, sharing and hearing
Aural journey beyond all description
A real form of magic
The sorcery and wizardry known as
Music

Days Gone By

A sunny day
Warmth and light in harmony
Gloom dissipates from both climate and person
Friendship and song
The grind turns to leisure
The mundane to pleasure
Nothing goes wrong
Joyful three days
Raise the sunken heart in me
Soon everything will be finished and work done

48 Hours

Two days feeling like decades
An early start and an early finish
Staving off exhaustion

The day feels almost over
So much has already happened
It hasn't yet begun

Change of plans, much for the better
Melodies warm the soul and chill the spine
Witness to pursuit of excellence

Entering an awkward situation
Inquired, encouraged, but not quite ready
Maybe another day

Yet another night spent in good company
Time wasted, yet producing something needed
The night ends well

Times have changed, speaking literally
Sleep deprivation leads to over-satiation
At least I'll get something done

So much can happen in 48 hours
Entering memory as a crystal-clear blur
My goodness I'm tired

This Song Is Called

Trapped Under Ice, Friends Will Be Friends.
Celebration Day.
I Can Learn, Learning To Live.
A Better Tomorrow.
Dear Friends, You're My Best Friend.
Speak To Me/Breathe.
Constant Motion, Forward Motion.
Good Times Bad Times.
Losfer Words, The Things You Said.
This Was My Life.
Let The Good Times Roll, ...As The Future Repeats Today.
With A Little Help From My Friends.
Problems, Our Infinite Struggle.
How Many More Times.
Until The End, Tomorrow Never Knows.
A Day In The Life.
Daylight Dies, The World We Live In.
Embrace The World.
When This World Fades, World To Come.
The Balance Of Eternity.

Writing a Poem

Sitting at the screen.
Inspiration needs to come soon.
I'm trying to write.

What is my purpose?
Should I be witty, funny, serious, heartfelt?
Should there be rhyme, reason, rhythm?
Why am I doing this anyway?
To impress people?
To express something?
Or just to have fun?
No answer comes to mind.
There's plenty to draw from.
Music, feelings, events, concepts.
But the right one is a different question.
And who's to judge if it's right?
Others? Me? God? Standards?
Is there a point?
Does it even matter?
What exactly is a poem, anyway?

Sitting at the screen.
I think of something.
I start to write.

I Have No Idea What This Poem Will Be About

Probable cause of trembling lights
Snow falling down the icy paths
Blades sheathed in wintry leather
Lights out
Black sheep screams for justice
Cord connected countless
Too much knowledge
Not enough time
Too many people
All of the answers are wrong
Discord to harmony, melodious cacophony
Active lethargy
Paradoxical witticisms are apparently awesome
Quote the Raven: "Nevermore" (Raven)
Format acquired
The end

The Pyramid

Mysterious
Towering over
Ancient kings' tombs
Symbols of great power
Built from blood and sweat
Monuments to an empire long gone
Imagery applied to the future great nation
Peaked by enigmatic all seeing eye
Geometry made not just math
Mixed into some theology
Shadows on sand
Egypt's trilogy
Pyramids

Christmas Spirit

The flight home is over, to my own bed I go.
I drift away quickly; it's good to be home.
The next day, a party with all of my friends.
Dressed up and filled up, the revelry ends.
Sunday, my loving old church takes me in.
Just like before, I stand up and sing.
Tuesday, my sister brings her Christmas cheer.
We put the tree up, and the season's here.
Wednesday, my friends once again show their love,
As I lead them in praise of our God up above.
Today, my nephew brightens our days,
Melting our hearts with his effortless gaze.
Tomorrow, the eve of our dear savior's birth,
I join my church family in worship and mirth.
Peace on this earth, goodwill to men, you know the rest.
I have been blessed.

A Day's Caroling

Bundled and shivering, quite far from home,
Not quite accustomed to the season of snow.
Warming of hands, singing of songs,
Eating and drinking till the chills are gone.
Outside once more to carol again,
Huddled together with one hundred friends.
Making a tenth of our size's day brighter,
Letting them listen to our great college choir.
Christmas is near, be of good cheer,
Or that's what I hear.

On the Internet

Artificial glow shining onto my weary face
Time desperately wasted, frantically disposed
Attempting to glean whatever joy is contained within the confines of this open world
How dull
At least music makes it interesting
Back to the site, maybe it's funny the 11th time
Or not
But what if I try the other one?

The Wristwatch

He sits, slumped in his armchair,
Appearing to sink into velvet quicksand.
He glances at his watch, then continues to stare
At the void which holds his gaze.
In anticipation, he checks his watch again,
Tracing the time passing over him.
Each time he looks, the same image greets him.
Unmoving, the broken watch tells its tale.
His heart, broken as his timepiece, ticks in its stead,
Prolonging the agony.
He waits for her word, her nod, her acceptance,
Consent and concurrence that his love is real.
He awaits her response with a hope as eternal
As the time embodied upon his wrist.
And so he sits, and waits, and checks his watch,
Always waiting for the moment that never comes.

Teenage Wasteland

Annuit Coeptis

Summer freezes over, shattering a beating heart
Images burn like the setting sun, an imprint on a dirtied canvas
Flames melt the icicles streaming down a face
It chokes
Wet and dry
Rivers flow, and are dammed
We meandered through the rows of knowledge
Pondering interests
I was happy to be where I was
I hated where I was
Frustration and satisfaction strove for dominance
And neither was the victor
New knowledge illuminated truth
Breaking and tearing
The page is closed
A song ended
Thoughts dash through a mind, splashing in the puddles of sanity
No one knows
Truth be told, it’s insignificant
Yet of utmost importance
Hypothetical and theoretical
Nothing is changed
Except the future

I walk through the valley
It walks on me
I turn my face to avoid the blows of a violent force
I return to placidity
Someone tells me they are sorry
Sorry for all that has happened
The sheets of ice crack and float away, perhaps forever
Glaciers rise
Snow falls
Water is frozen
Desolation
Spurning sweetness, they drink the bitter water flowing from rocks of spite
Rationality drowns in the growing depths
Why?
It is so.

Who is that?
What are they holding?
Why are they pouring it out?
Where is it falling?
When will it arrive?
How will we survive?

The figures beside me fade
I rise and behold
The earth is flooded
Waves of flame break upon the shore
Torrential downpour of fire
Consume
The mountains blaze, giving no mercy to those that entreat them
The torment goes on
Those who killed the king became the kings
Their king is dead
They inherit death
There is no respite
No help found
No hope
But that which can be found in a moment
The stillness of the unassuming night
Speeches to scum
Messages to the malevolent, now meek
An unjust punishment
Bloody corpse displayed
Cavern sealed
Entrance cleared
Arise
Ascend
Given a gift, a dozen go
A million received
There is no hope
But that
Lux mundi

The end is known
The path is dark
Flames will illuminate

Sohn des menschen

What Else Is New?

The sun shines, the earth turns.
Time doesn't stop, it keeps flowing.
Stuff happens, much of it bad.
So what else is new?

People are fallen, they do the wrong things.
People react without thinking ahead.
They fight with each other to do the most "good."
So what else is new?

Creatures are mortal, they wane and perish.
Sometimes they're snuffed out too quickly.
Human, animal, whatever we love, gone.
So what else is new?

We get sick; our bodies, minds, and emotions.
Bones, spirits, hearts, all get broken.
Parts of ourselves we want perfect, aren't.
So what else is new?

Powers that be do nothing but destroy.
They spit on their duties and tighten their grip.
Stupidity and arrogance rule the day and the world.
So what else is new?

Life is hard.
This isn't a surprise.
How you get through it is the difference.

What else is new?