Grasping At Straws

Children have drowned in buckets and toilets.

You are the straw that would break my camel.

Traversing the desert hundreds of days.

No food, no water, just an oasis.

Illusion of friendship always denied.

Grasping at, clutching an unreal image.

Abandoned when I needed forlorn hope.

The rest, they’ve forgotten. You’re not the first.

Only a parallel string universe.

My days are reminders of what I lack.

And my nights are relief until I wake.

I am falling behind, finishing last.

It’s time to be done; no future with smiles.

I’m so hungry, but my appetite fails.

Starving for fulfillment I’ll never have.

Embrace the end, there is nothing beyond.

Release will come when the coward is slain.

Learning how to let go, with no regrets.

Alleviate the pain and suffering.

Nobody sees the weight that crushes me.

Behind the wall of fake smiles and lies.

Internal reflections of what will come.

The calm of my descent from the living.

Consequences considered, not abrupt.

Minimize the disruption of impact.

For once I will be happy all alone.

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 Fighter

Combatant. Fights without fear or delay.

Always engaged, ready to break the peace.

A struggle without fighting, not worth it.

Release the anger, you will feel relieved.

Cause matters not when there are expressions.

No handcuffs for rage, leave the guilt aside.

Smacks and booms and cackles of mad laughter.

Your descriptive ear hears the destruction.

I want it all, I want it now. Be done.

The silent hush is the boiling pressure.

No indicators, no prior warning.

Quicker than a whistle, you will see truth.

HOPE Columbine Memorial Library

By then it’s too late, he cares no longer.

Consequences, obstacles to feelings.

Love me not, forget me not. The Omen.

You were all warned. He was born a fighter.

You tied his hands, and thought he could be saved.

Ignorant fools. You know nothing of war.

A shock to the system that never leaves.

The circuits have been rewired at cost.

There is a worn path he rushes along.

Too quick to save the inferno he flashed.

At least the path within matches. Empty.

There was no alternative, wasn’t choice.

A collection of circumstances. Dead.

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

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.

Happenchance

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

Forever Hold Your Peace

Maia Engagement Ring

She had to make a decision, and she chose to stay with you forever. She promised to remain faithful and not to succumb to temptation ever. She reaffirmed her love with a feeling gesture that would come to mean nothing at all in the end. Delilah gave you all her love, and you gave her everything in return, but it would not be enough. She refused temptation, and that is when the bond was broken. As soon as she placed that mantle of trust upon her own shoulders, she turned to dust in your embrace. You lost her through no fault of your own, just a futile battle against the inevitable.

Had you kept her things may have been different, but not as you’d imagine. Once she succumbed to temptation, you would know a different Delilah. A monster. Her embrace would make you suffocate, and your skin writhe. Pleasantries start arguments, and love leads to war. So it must have been written, or else it could not be. There is nothing you can do now. You must leave. It is too late. The Delilah you knew before is gone forever. Now you must suffer for what you have done, for what she did. You can’t escape the end, because it was always meant to be.

Dead rose with fresh sprout

You will always be reminded of what happened, with no recompense for your love. It cannot be erased, it cannot be undone. Mistakes made are lessons learned, and thus can never be replaced by perfection lest you must be taught everything anew. Everything you gave her will sting again for eternity. And now all you can do is fight to make things right once more. Yet you shall never find the justice you seek. She loved you and you so much her. But now you must fight with the emptiness. It drains your energy and disrupts every comfort with pain. But you must continue to fight.

But don’t allow a certainly uncertain future dissuade you now, for the feelings you will receive in prolonged moments of forever will either subside or subsist at the whim of random memories. These are the chances of remembrance for which you strive. Allow your butterfly heart free to flutter and chance upon delights yet unknown. And should they be forgotten, you’ll be able to accept that they were once fleeting memories. Live for the day, the hour, the minute, every second you would never trade for anyone, for any place, any idea of any thing that may be valued.

Catocala delilah

Later, you will regret, and swear that never should it have been so. But it was, and should you honestly deceive your former selves in each of those moments in time, you shall know it for false that your former selves revealed untruths. But am I not a changed man? You’ll ask yourself. That former self is no longer the latter I am. He shall be forgiven his sins, but I am unable to forgive one who is not me but may once have been. For it is I who now bear the burden, and regret is mine to hoard, to keep, to allow to fester and rot apart my insides until something bursts, something changes, and everything can, for once and for all, let go, be forgotten, released from the torment that mocks me so. It must be forgiven, yes, but it is not me who has the power to do so. No, that is the hest of a soul much more pure than my own wretched state of man.