The Demon Within

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Never far from the surface
Dwelling in the past
In dank dark places
He awaits a sweet repast

He does not have a conscience
No sense of right or wrong
No limits to his anger
Forgotten for far too long

In rare times of weakness
He ventures to the light
Savage destruction is his goal
Vengeful  damage is his delight

Finally seen in the daylight
Naked in his truest form
Slinking back into his lair
After feeding on the storm

 

 

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Seeds

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In secret places seeds may fall
Fertile soil beyond the wall
Planted in time they will grow
Yet we may never know
 
Anger’s weeds are fast to bloom
Fear allows the growing room
Shame to feed the subtle shoots
Pride digs deep its roots
 
Slowly sometimes roses bloom
Pushing up from the tomb
Vines climb from deep within
Atop a wall to begin again
 
Stoic

Land Of Dreams

 

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courtesy of : http://www.designstack.co/

 

Nothing is, as it seems

Veiled and false

In this land of dreams

 

Beauty covers pain

Deeply hidden

No one is to blame

 

What you may want

Others become

Farther from the Fonte

 

Cut the subtle vein

The horror within

As life yields to pain

 

And awaken, please

From this play

You have the keys

 

Stoic

The Custodians

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We were given a gift

The world to command

All Wisdom in our hands

 

If the World was without us

How would it be less?

 

We were gifted the One

Self-aware and absorbed

Yet we are so blind

 

Ego raised to an art

A World set apart

And we raped it all

 

The world without Man

Nature’s balance

As it was planned

 

What was the gift

We gave?

What did we offer?

 

If we never were

Life would have endured

Ensured as designed

 

Yet we were, we are

Lost in ourselves

Until the bitter end

Personal Demons

Twilight’s shadows consume my thoughts,
reapers glove clutching daylight to suffocation.

Sleep remains elusive, in waking dreams,
obsessive images loop unfettered.

Fertile soil of ancient memories,
spawn demons of my past realms.

Yesterday storming today’s bastions of sanity,
manufactured reality expired, obsolete.

Gatekeeper guard the boundaries of my soul,
fist falls of desperation resounding, pounding.

Claw the erected walls upward,
crumbled reality a pinhole of dawns light.

Relinquish the reapers grasp,
another day as demons wait for dusk.

Stoic