Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Divide

Come, my innermost self, let us walk...
Should they not listen... I dare not talk...

I shall not leave... without you at my side...
Your rivers will collide... and your skies... will divide...

When it is so, that you've come to bear...
Angels shall no longer dance... to the songs upon the air...

You will fall... to the resting of your knees...
You will cry... to the falling of your trees...

And when your head rises... once more...
The silent world you once knew... is now in uproar...

Your fears will be many... as they are insane...
Your hopes will be few... as they are in vain...

I shall find you colder... before the end of the third day...
Whisper upon your shoulder... and you shall hear me say...

Come, my innermost self, let us walk...
Should you not listen... I dare not talk...

I shall leave... without you at my side...
Your stories will collide... and your poems... will divide.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Taken

Many greetings, fellow brother in aggression...
I am a thief, quite known for my tasteful discretion...
I come to you in the hopes that I can make a lasting impression...
You see, my friend, I have but a small... distasteful confession...
You have caught my eye, and have tugged at the core of my obsession...
I wish to know the nature of your work... the nature of your profession...

The shadows hide you not, curious thief...
My words with you shall be short-lived and brief...
That which I bring to people... knows no ignorance... and no disbelief...
I am the end to all suffering... the beginning to all relief...
Those left behind shall drown in sorrows... and sulk in their grief...

Ah, you are an assassin... devoid of all emotion... devoid of all fear...
I must say... you have my undivided interest, my fascination ends not here!
Any closer to my heart, be it myself, a victim to you I would volunteer!
If you'll be so good, assassin, a story or two I'd very much like to hear...
It is the very art of your blade that I have yet to pioneer!

Do you not understand... thief? Is it not clear?
Your kind knows not of what the world is like on my frontier...
Before I shed blood... the eye must cry... must shed a tear...
Before I hear screams... the regret is true... ever so sincere...
Before I see the end... the pain is real... and ever so severe...
So spare me of your ridicules, thief! I am not one to revere...

Come now, assassin, you need not hold such unbearable shame,
The world lay before us corrupt and broken, and such we became,
You and I are but the dust in the ash, and it is the ash that is born of flame,
We may not share the one weapon, we may not share the one name,
But look around you, assassin, do you realize now that we are one and the same?

Misguided thief, you're ill understanding of life...
Your words are as loud and empty as a screaming fife!
Replacements for what your hands have taken are many and rife...
Replacements for what my hands have taken end at the means of my knife!

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Logic

My eyes fall to the horizon that I know best,
My hands tremble to no end, they tremble to no rest,
My eyes close to the music within my chest,
My hands touch the horizon, unstrained and unstressed.

The strings around me sing, to be loved and heard,
The voice within me speaks not a whisper, speaks not a word,
The ravens around me fade, to be silent and blurred,
The spirit within me now no longer still, no longer unstirred.

My mouth widens to a smile, sorrow grants me right,
My body loses control, lost in the sounds of this strange night,
My feet leave the ground, gravity grants me flight,
My eyes open once more, lost in the view of this strange sight.

Logic can no longer explain,
My understanding can no longer sustain,

How this mind can create immortal human formation,
Perfection, by this ever so mortal human imagination?

How this can somehow be real...
When my heart wants to think, and my mind wants to feel?

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Drizzle

Have I not learned... a world blessed for lesser sight,
Have I not learned... wrongest of wrong, and rightest of right.

Have I not learned... water, in which swim becomes flight,
Have I not learned... darkness, a mere absence of undivided light.

Patience, in the stature of a tree?
Purpose, at the very tip of a key?
Persistence, upon waves of a sea?
Power, within a desperate call or plea?

Courage, in those who believe?
Confidence, in those who achieve?
Conviction, in those who perceive?
Compromise, in those who receive?

Serenity, that is profound?
Sacrifice, that is confound?
Sky, that is within ground?
Silence, that is within sound?

If only, long ago I'd stopped yearning,
Then my world would come to no turning,
If only, long ago I'd stopped learning,
Then my flame would come to no burning.

Have I not learned... a world set in absolute vain,
Have I not learned... gain from loss, and loss from gain.

Have I not learned... to await the subsidence of pain,
Have I not learned... to await the drizzles... of light rain.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Spaces

When I'm with you, I dare not remember,
Memories were drowned, if for an entire September,
Lest two months end, and this pen I'd dismember,
If not for you, be it not a start... to grace this December.

When I am without, words are easy to find,
A wall of poetry... that I am likely to hide behind,
What have I created... within the spaces of my mind?
And yet... be there a difference... had I two pens combined?



Writer's Notes:
I haven't used any j3concepts art in a long time, so I decided to use one for this piece.
His art might seem kinda wacky and bright at first... but if you take a deeper look into it, it will tell you a world of different things...

This art piece is called "Self Portrait", and to me it kinda shows an interesting paradox...

At first glance, you see a guy that is all about sunshine, rainbows and smiley faces!
He's even telling everyone that he's "Doing good, thanks!"

Take a closer look, you'll notice he's wearing a hat and a hoodie... his beard and hair are a little messy... he's almost looking down on the ground, ... etc..

Verdict: He's actually cold and sad.

Not too far from how we go about our public relations?

Friday, October 30, 2009

The King's Song - First Edit

"I am a king," "I order you to sing."
"You shall not disobey," "'Tis obedience that you will portray."

"I ask of you my king, my song for a piece of earth?"
A king would speak truth, "Your songs are not nearly worth."

"Am I to have robes made by your tailors of renowned expertise?"
"You shall have gunpowder, fired at you by however a manner you please."

"Perhaps then, my king, a quilt, so that I may rest at night and sleep?"
"I offer you a jail cell, deep within the dungeons of my keep."

"I beg of you my king, might my song be rewarded with food?"
"Never have I come across a servant ill demanding and rude!"

"Spare my life, all ruling king,"
"What would you have me -to your ears- sing?"

"A great man of men! Undefeated by whatever the tide ought bring!"
"Unyielding and callous! To that, my insolent servant, you shall sing!"
"Forget not, filthy servant, that I am your king!"
"And by the light, It is your head that I may string!"

"I sing to you my king, but where lies your place of stride?"
"Dare you question me servant? Servants are merely destined to abide!"

"I sing, but I know not of that in which you take glory."
"It is of war and battle that people speak of when telling my story."

"Excellent my king, and what of your pride?"
"I take it in my name, and in my kingdom at which I reside."

"What of existing men, said to be born and destined for your seat?"
"A close enough man will have his bones severed from his very meat!"
"I am unmeasured and unmatched, insusceptible to any form of defeat!"
"Such insolence, servant, I shall have you strung out and endlessly beat!"

"Forgive me, my king, for your answers bring forth inspiration to this song."
"Very well, insolent servant, but I'll have you know where it is that you belong!"

"Is the king not a man of his people? or so the people's whispers would speak..."
"Unknowing and pitiful! Take not the truth from those who are frail and weak!"

"Perhaps, a story unheard, of what makes his highness so remarkably elite?"
"Stories matter not, when mountains tremble in fear at my very feet."


"Most great you are... and yet, what of your days, sire?"
"I have lived a proud fifty three years, far too great to retire."

"Then I shall sing words to a man so fiercely feared,"
"Whose ruthlessness is well known and admittedly revered."

"I invoke words that are neither for the fragile nor the courage-departed,"
"Fortune favors us both, my king, as you are neither feeble nor halfly-hearted."

"But my words will not be those of a mere servant,"
"For I am the angel of death, king, and I have been observant."

"Your part has been played, and you have perfected your role,"
"Mine has yet to begin, as I have been sent to collect your soul."

"If I were to choose words to the song I would sing,"
"They would be not nearly worth long live the king."

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Sculpture

I've arrived to the day of trepidation and embodied dread,
It shall all finally come down to mere words spoken and said,
If I am now a sculpture whose art was drained and fatefully bled,
Then I am now one that portrays the precise stillness it takes to be dead.

Yet, a pulse, inside this sculpture strives to chaotically beat,
This pulse is of metaphoric substance, thus meaning is concrete,
But how can this one pulse deem a sculpture to be whole and incomplete?
When only of it, does this sculpture seem entirely independent and discrete.

Maybe I am no better a sculpture than I am alive,
Take this pen, and rewrite how I shall come to revive,
Plot how it is... how I struggle with all that which you contrive,
And when all is over, just leave a sculpture of how I came to survive.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Clover

It's all finally quiet...
For too long... you've battled this riot...

But it's all over...
And your prize is... this common clover...

Emptiness left and right...
Was it worth such a passionate fight?

What a crying shame...
Had you known the end... to this crying game...

I think maybe now...
You shall choose to disavow...

But don't lose this clover...
Lest you forget... that it is... all over...

If there's one thing you've found...
Buried deep within harmonic sound...

Should you choose to disown...
That's fine... just... leave it alone...

Because... at the end of the day...
Our feelings convey... they crash and display...

They decay... long after they delay to portray...
They lead us astray... they hurt... hurt and betray...

It doesn't matter...
These words will soon fall... and scatter...

You will forget...
Light turned silhouette...

The one thing I need you to remember...
Long... long after the end of December...

Is this clover...
Because its finally... finally all over...