A Hopeful Dawn

A hopeful dawn rising in the earth’s distance
layers of fog accumulating; the light not wishing to shine through today
saving the sun, making way for mist
insisting on lasting into the high noon
shrouding us in our steps
clouding around us in the warmth of our breaths

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Baggage

The rocks that crush into gravel upon impact of feet
smashed to cinder, crushed into little fragments of whole pieces that once were
Lay a flag, mark an arrival before moving onto smoother surfaces
Dragging little pebbles in the cracks of boots
pieces of the past brought along without any fault of their own

Without accord, the smashed pieces travel without my knowledge
with me, wherever I go, wherever I decide to be
Those that wonder how the pebbles entered onto smooth surfaces
they should look no further for the culprit

The Rain

Rain filled day
take me away
to warm and sunny pastures
where the blades of grass and trees so tall are captured

Through my window I see
a life to lessened degrees
agreeing to the day
without knowing what may come my way

Little Stars

I run on like sentences into night skies
the stars twinkling like bright white lies
I dot each little sparkle with my index finger
and these small spots disappear longer than they linger

Rejoice in crisp mornings widely awoken
the few breaths of the day spent laughing and joking
avoiding these stars, shy and soft spoken
but they reappear by night without a hint of provoking

What do they hold but old light far away?
they follow me by night only to let go by the day
the clouds will part and the skies will open once again
and the little stars will follow the hopes and dreams of men

 

The Sparrow

A sparrow sat planted on my window
I did not see her, I did not look in her direction
I carried on through my day, as I could

She watched, observed my moves
I knew nothing, for her shadow did not prove large
her quiet manners shrouded her in a corner
my inattentive nature closed my eyes to her presence

Only did I notice her
when she left, her fluttering wings carrying her off into the sky
jolting my senses
and with her went a piece of my thoughts
and the peace in my mind

Seabeds

Spent under the trails of life’s frail beckoning
wave the wind into my sails and have me float until all fails
When we sink to the bottom, forgotten on our sea bed
laying in sand like sculptures on final threads
entrenched safely within our heads
we will know that the words shared were our last to be spoken but first to be truly said

Education

Lifelong learning burning in a matter of minutes
knowledge infinite reduced to piles of ash trashed without value with which to spin it
books thrown in the air, the shams of crooks in despair
the educated masses daring to stare in the face of a life without repair

The lines have been squashed; the bridges churned down to a ground so stern
when did we yearn to forget what has been learned?
No longer gracious in taking what has been earned

The subjects in states of objective threat
hours passing crashing through stages of extended neglect
a long way past rectifying this situation so sour
the soil in this bed of flowers dry as the hardened heads of power

Money

Rich in thought bought not from papers
for money grows on trees
and monkeys swing from branch to branch in search of disease so green
cleanse these cages from the wages of lust
with due course fulfilled we turn to dust

Billed for our time, a game of currency so divine
“in God we trust”
in building pyramids schemes, we shine
with closed eyes and open mouth
the ticking clock of time finds those between the lines

An arm and leg for sanity of head
a debt and lost bet for humanity in dread
the pressures to obtain treasures measured in wealth
they say in the end nothing holds true but the pleasures of health

Go on with pursuits, do not stop until infinite gains
the ounce of sunlight in rain for the dance of real life in vain
the creases grow on these priceless papers so wrinkled
but clutch onto this glory to live a story so simple

What we are

We are the goldfish in thought swimming around in little bowls. In circles we flow, in darkness we glow but our lives do not grow unless the waves that topple us blow through with such force that we no longer show.

We are the broken. We are the little pieces, fragments of ourselves, the shattered glass that cuts deep until we feign well immersed in our spells.

We are the shells holding oceans and gusts within self, waiting to be dragged into fluid states of deplorable health.

But we must prevail, lifting the veil and setting sail on the course of our lives that thrive off refreshing the stale.

…And we will win in the course of our existence, upon standing up in insistence, bursting out of our bowls in resistance to brush off the bruises of our persistence.

The crushed glass no longer within our frames, the freedom running through our vein will touch upon our lives no longer the same.

Changes

The happy times with looming clouds above
the days of dark birds that linger among the softened doves
lurking, preying, swaying us as we stroll to our content
but together marching under the winds of change without hints of ill intent

Who shall be bent on clipping wings and tagging talons?
The directions of the world in the balance, the aims of earth riddled with malice
A callous becoming, passed by unassuming in the dull humming
evil perching perking ears to grave silences of collective cunning