If Only
The moon,
up and dancing,
If you only noticed.
ENERGY. can feel you before hearing you. from just a sight. your presence alone. universal SYNERGY.
Tread Lightly
The air is thin
Black ice, slippery
The voice is heavy
tried twice, shabby
such valour,
such tact;
The rebels’ paradox.
One must tread lightly.
The Aftermath
I open my eyes and take a deep breath
caressing my trembling hands
as my feet move through a quicksand
in the hall of the maternal unit.
My eyes bounce between
objects and people around,
an interloper once more in
the small broken canoe on Atlantic.
My breath, far too familiar,
and yet speaks like
a stranger to the current
unfolding now here.
I reach out my trembling right
hand to the pink and blue sleeping
doorknob guarding October
behind the broken dam.
Hazed by the sight,
I want to hear a baby in fright.
My brave beloved soldier resting close,
drained and exhausted
scarred by another battle.
As a drop of the Atlantic slides
we both look at each
other in silence.
in God we trust
In trenches deep, where shadows creep,
Human hearts in folly steep.
Absurdity reigns, a jester’s grin,
War’s grim waltz, where none can win.
Terror stalks, a phantom’s blade,
Genocide scars the vows we made.
God’s promise fades in smoke and cries,
With popcorn at hand and popcorn in sound
Yet still we chase the wind for a quick fix.
In mud and blood,
Humans claw at meaning.
War grinds bones to dust,
Absurd.
Terror’s shadow fuels the pyre,
Genocide chokes the heart’s desire.
God’s promise, a whisper lost in flame,
We build, we break, chasing shadows.
Hearts pulse defiant
In the wreckage.
In mud and blood,
Humans cling to fragile vows.
War cracks the social bond,
Absurd.
Terror tears the pact apart,
Genocide betrays the heart.
God’s promise, frail, beneath the strain,
We trade freedom for chains, chasing order and meaning.
Hearts pulse, defiant, and dismembered limbs
In the wreckage of lust
in God we trust.
Stereotypes
Like the echo of a jolly jumping frog,
The idea is lost
In the forest, I think I already know.
A passing glance.
No one is real.
Mush-grey matter,
Embedded and wrapped
Between the folds of lazy thought.
“I tell your story.
You belong in my box.
I will judge you—
Tirelessly.
I will condemn you—
Effortlessly.
I will batter you—
Endlessly.
I will reduce you—
Disrespectfully.
I have power over you.
Wait…
Remind me of your name again?
Have we met before?
You remind me of… someone.
Ah—my transference.
Damn it.
But I’m tired.
Too tired
To put in the work.
So—
You are what I say you are.
You are that.
You are a reflection.
Of my laziness.
You are my mental shortcut.
You are
My mind’s easy way out.”
blood
becomes
water
spilt
carelessly
as
bravery
fades
in
attempt
to
preserve
ones
self
as
others
face
injustice
terror
and
prejudice
the
few
braves
shall
rise
displaced
in
strength
no
longer
YOU KNEW
the big wind blows
to those who know