In Silence

 

 

In silence you remained, the boy

Unchanged, innocence and wonder

Unaware, each of the other

Me full of noise, running out of time

You wondering, where did I go?

 

Days of climbing trees,

Sticklebacks in the creek

Cut knees and laughter, carefree

The moment, the precious moment

Far from the noise, the world.

 

Forgotten, for so long now

Buried, the grave where joy smothers

Under workloads and deadlines

Fill the gaps, afraid of the silence

In the quietness I sometimes hear your cries.

 

Stoic

 

 

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Purpose

 

 

We are born, the embodiment of all,

The potential of all knowledge, all-knowing,

Outside the world of mankind we are perfect,

Creation in it’s perfection.

 

Our image of life, perversion,

Bending, tainting our gift,

Limited we go on,

Fit the mold, become as you are, planned.

 

Original thought, goes against the grain,

A piece of us given for the sake of all,

Part of us sacrificed for humanity,

We gladly give of ourselves.

 

Fools suffer a life too long as measured,

The ONE waiting for the gift given to all,

A candle struggling for light,

As we give and move on.

 

Stoic.

 

 

Paths

 

Worlds, visions in vibrant flashes,

mind, body and soul bombarded by beauty,

imagery, splashed across mindscapes,

broad strokes of the insane artists brush,

slashed, swiped, weapons wielded in anger,

as the poet battles with his pen.

 

Beauty and devastation,

life peeled from unyielding corpse,

decay of times past,

ravaged and raped by demons,

once defiled and devoured,

one too young and fragile,

for such revenge.

 

A world, so unwelcoming, always undeterred,

the inside, always so inviting from the outside,

watching from the other side,

belonging to neither.

 

Stoic

 

 

 

Temple of Low Men

 

 

The low men who look up from below

Judging those to whom they cannot ascend

Clawing for those they do not know

 

Striving to lower the noble soul

Rather than helping raise them up

In ignorance of what they once stole

 

Rise above where we began

Rise to become what we may be

Rise to the challenge as we all can

Rise and rejoice in a soul that is free

 

Stoic

Petals of Deceit

 

Petals of deceit pressed dead between hand written pages

Rescued from the final insult, among crumpled documents and this mornings half eaten Danish

From a friend once trusted but never twice

Faded reminders of the knife twisted in blatant cruelty and greed

Conscience or remorse, mere words scattered about these pages

Acrid scent of decay, fragrance of honor brittle and crumbling

A façade of false beliefs, in ruins, this delusional construct of insanity laid bare

The insane leading the fallen, battling over scraps of discarded pastry and yesterdays friends.

Stoic