Scattered Showers

The Rain People

When it rains, I die, drowning in despair.

The acid burns my skin and grinds my bones.

Until I’m left as a soaking pile.

Satiating the earth that absorbs me.

Pulled into the depths. Recycled remains.

Millions of droplets dissipate at last.

Treacherous torrents kept my vision blurred.

I can’t tell if I’m crying, not quite yet.

Perhaps it will subside. This too shall pass.

Once God is done playing his silly game.

“The clouds are danger! They hinder our growth.”

Said the little saplings who needed light.

Promise of the future, when the rain stops.

They can’t reach the stars if not one shines bright.

Full of potential and futures unseen.

“What happened? I watered them every day.”

Said God, who built boats, but couldn’t plant trees.

Preference for humans passed, not present.

“With whom do we escape?” Cried the flora.

As the fauna turn, marching, carry on.

Left by the wayside. Wrong side of the tracks.

Once you belong, you can’t ever turn back.

Abandoned to become stronger, for them.

Distant, but they feel your warmth and kindness.

So that they may come out of their hard shells.



The vision is all I have ever known.

New Harmony, a utopian attempt; depicted as pr...

A murky destiny pivots with change.

Pray that the clouds don’t roil and cover.

Our future, once promised, so far denied.

“It can’t happen, you’re too optimistic.”

Naysayers who don’t suffer at their hands.

The slave owners who would justify it.

Narcissistic faggots who fuck and breed.

Yourselves so pretty, dirtying others.

There’s no shame, only blame, disconnected.

Vile shifts of responsibility.

You’ve done enough. Time for the hose to spray.

Lay you down, the pressure becomes too much.

You respond to reason and honesty.

The way forward is revealed and clearer.

Nothing becomes of the past that could be.

Because we’ve changed history with action.

Do you now see the potential for change?

Your ominous sights proposed to preserve.

Indignant men who understand nothing.

Locked out of the gene pool, no more swimming.

The molds and shapes of man must be kept clean.

Confident because we feel empathy.

Tired of brothers being pushed around.

I will crush your place with my crystal balls.

Wish upon a star

I wish I could make your wishes come true

So you could save your dreams for the future

I wish I could be your lamp shining bright

A room full of light with warmth in your heart

I wish I could feel the power to change

At long last give you everything deserved

I wish I could wear the garb of a thief

So I could steal back what they have taken

I wish I could erase what has been done

A martyr for a cause greater than life

I wish I could be wishy-washy mad

Pretend to do things that no one else can

I wish I could forsake being honest

Try to convince you the world is alright

I wish I could wash away the sadness

Instead of rivers of tears colored blood


Wishes (Photo credit: Herve “Setaou” BRY)

I wish I could make wishes miracles

Say what I mean, so it becomes the truth

I wish I could shout, all our problems gone

Fear to return and get burned by the sound

I wish I could transform, become like you

Someone to tell me it will be okay

I wish I could not wish, and learn to fight

Become someone strong, with power and might

Toss me aside. I am nothing but hope.


Far too long since you pushed them in the mud.

Now they will push back and spit in your face.

Your precious currency that means nothing.

Will be all that you have left to consume.

Far too long you have kept them far below.

Packrats, hoarders, keep it all to yourself.

It is time the people speak louder words.

Scream until your eardrums acknowledge them.

No protection for your dying kingdom.

They will steal the keys and gouge your eyes out.

A place where men won’t have to fight instinct.

Chains of minorities keeping them behind.

It is time to grow and reach potential.

Rid ourselves of privilege and circumstance.

When bellies are fed and humans can grow.

None shall suffer while others rule the world.

Consume like a vacuum with blackened hearts.

Slice you to spill your guts and feed the world.

bloody handprints

Spread like the plague your sickness of mind.

Govern like the sun, reaching every stone.

There is no wrong that corruption creates.

Only misunderstood, to be replaced.

As we move forward, capable as yet.

We encounter no boundaries. All is set.

“The People” all deserve a right to vote.

Unless they are wicked, dumb or untrue.

We’ve agreed upon the time, not the place.

It is your world they will eradicate.

Culture and arts shall not be for profit.

They represent feeling you cannot find.

To regain the balance, no compromise.

They will crush your world, shattered shards of globe.

Lapping water from a dish like your dogs.

Shove your face in shit to see if you care.

Nothing to drink and no warmth to be found.

This world will be empty if you aren’t stopped.

We’ve spread, populated all that we can.

Suffocate underneath the swarming mass.

Your values are broken, so time for change.

The People have spoken. Executed.


My hometown was not a place for changes

Nor does it have museums in my name

I couldn’t go to the academy

A quarter of my life that I wasted

I saw no puppets replaced in my time

Though I thought I witnessed the real world war

But the revolution would not come here

And the nation stays as it was founded

Though other aggressions made it despised

There were no movements and the wars were theirs

As I grew smarter, the traitor grew mad

I reached the pinnacle of the moment

Though the powers so despised still remained

Time to study and be a better man

But the others had already been there

They were angrier and making changes

They had peer support, were not ostracized

Now the future comes, and what does it hold?

Will I be gone and on a happy path?

A bandit on the run with no fear left

Or will I awaken and become new?

New happenchance would see me at the helm

I guess there’s time to simmer and be wise

Would the path be chosen by a bridge burned

Pain and glory as one when all is done

El avion de Torrijos

Battle against Time

The face of a black windup alarm clock As a child, Caius did not know of the torments and terrors that the villain Time would bring to upon him later in life. For childhood is innocence, and time is not sufficiently understood. Days pass seamlessly from one to another. “Do I play now, or do I play later?” Interruptions for meal-time could be so inconvenient. “Mom, I just want to play!” Caius whined. So much fun to be had, why can’t he stay up later and play past sunset? So Time would leave his childhood alone. “Play, young Caius, do not concern yourself with me right now,” Time said. Because Time was waiting for Caius to get older before he stole moments away. Caius yet lacked comprehension of the vile thing that would betray him in adulthood.

Time slowly began to sneak up on Caius. It took from him little by little, such short moments of insignificance that he hardly noticed. Fleeting moments that added up to the days of his youth were so carefully stolen by Time that he hadn’t even noticed. “Where did those times go?” Caius wondered. Though Time was a villain, Caius was still unaware of the evils it was capable of. It was already hiding, taking things from him, and he didn’t even realize it. But Time waited for the right moment to begin to stealing things that would make Caius cry, precious moments Caius would never be able to have back. That is what Time wanted most. Caius did not realize it yet, but in time, Time would become his enemy.

Maybe it was because Caius looked forward so often, into his future, maybe that was how Time was able to steal so much from him. Caius had ambitions and dreams, and promises to fulfill. So he spent time thinking of the future, ignoring the present. How was Caius to know that Time was sneaking around his back, stealing moments he would need to get to that future? How was he to know that Time could take so many present moments that he would later grieve and yearn for when he didn’t have them? He didn’t realize that everything he built was being taken away, moment by moment, by unforgiving Time. By the time Caius discovered the little thief, it was far too late to do anything. Caius was Time’s victim.

Caius tried to reach up, outstretched hands grasping for his goals and ambitions to be realized. But by now, Time had stolen every past moment from him, leaving him nothing left to stand on, not even a pedestal. Caius could only hopelessly gaze at the pinnacle, look at it from afar, much as he had done before, except now it was out of reach. If he reached too far he would fall. He would never get to touch it, experience it, because Time had taken everything that he would have used to reach it. “Why can’t I reach it!?” Caius yelled. Tears began to stream down his face. Time is a heartless thief. No sympathy for its victims. It was impossible for Caius to reach his dreams, and Time would do nothing to console him.

Caius now hated Time, for all it had taken from him, all it had stolen away. Cowardly, fleeting time, sneaking around, taking with it every presently cherished moment. And more, Time forbade anyone to have those moments return. But Caius had enough of Time’s cruel methods. It was time for Time to be punished, to be shown you can’t take everything from a man without invoking his vengeance. Caius would make Time suffer like he did, he would torture it, leave it helpless, force Time to beg for mercy, tears streaming down its face, like he had so many times before. Time would regret the day it was born, and the very day it decided to become a thief. Caius would consume himself to bring the death of Time.

So Caius fought time. He hunted it down, with an arsenal of weapons to make any vampire hunter jealous. Sufficiently armed and teeth bared, Caius set off into the world, in pursuit of time. Before he left home, he smashed his alarm clock, then the timer in the kitchen, and he cut off his left hand with a machete to get rid of his wristwatch. All of the pieces of time he could not collect littered the dresser and the kitchen counter, his arm and the floor a bloody mess too. Caius walked down the street, entered every business where he knew Time was present, and fired his shotgun at every clock he saw. Not satisfied, he climbed a clock tower, smashed the face of it with his fist, and tried to wind it backwards to get his moments back.