All the poetry from then to recent. Making more soon.

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New Days
March 4, 2014 at 2:29pm

As each day passes
the heartbeat accelerates,
the panic sets in.

Eyes looking over the grasses,
thoughts bearing down like weights,
the questions wear me thin.

Maybe Man was made to be made new?
Set to fail since the very first slew?

For every darkness
that kept me surrounded,
a light sits out of reach.

A waiting harvest,
waiting for the dead,
who start to beseech.

For me, is there a paradise?
How can I pay the price?

Darkness lays defeated
at the power of the light;
I'm free from the poison.

Death is cheated,
forced back to the night.
I wait for the new horizon.

Where have my stumbling steps lead me?
Am I the man You need me to be?

 
Follow
February 5, 2013 at 9:22pm
Who am I on the inside?
Just a worthless being?
All I used to care about was my hide;
wishing that my eyes could do more than seeing.

I would walk...
And You would follow.

Like a sick dog,
following at my heels,
You followed me into the fog,
into the hazy teal.

I kicked You, and beat You.
Yet You followed me and loved me.
Then, in my journey I had left the pew.
And Your love stayed close, this I could see.
although I didn't want to admit it
I never thought you were real,
before my eyes opened during adolescence.
And my skin began to peel.
Saved only by your luminescence.

I was certain, that every step that I had taken,
on every piece of glass that had torn through my skin,
You had already felt and knew, like every pain I had been given.
And every Hellhole to which I had been.

What love could save me from me?
Why did You give your life for my worthless soul?
Everything good I gave away so readily.
Every sin I transgressed were the nails in your palms and soles.
although I didn't want to admit it
You know who and what I am.
An existence whose origin is a mere mishap.
My soul, that I thought you would surely damn.
You showed me the way, You gave me a map.

I no longer walk alone.
You no longer follow.
I am holding Your hand.

You never should have had to follow.
 
Second
November 3, 2012 at 11:50pm
(this is written in second person aimed at myself)

You sit at your computer, wishing that inspiration could overtake you.
You know inside that your mere complications are caused by destitution.
You think you are alone? Your friends are far and few!
You stand by yourself, your will drained from your pathetic constitution.

How dare you call yourself what you think you are!
Your definition of what you make leaves you by yourself.
Why have your broken feet dragged you on so far?
You have clear knowledge that your never ending spirit does not depend on wealth!

The broken mirror shows a better man than when it was whole!
Your Faith keeps you alive. But you're being carried by your empty perseverance!
The lies you bridged together, the sinfulness to remain normal, left you anything but full.
You stand behind the empty, shallow, and dead appearance.

Eighteen years, all those tears, and no one knows you behind the mask.
They believe you, you're honest, but your doubt towards yourself brings you down.
When people care, it seems like it was staged, an obligation, a job, a task.
You know there's knowledge, lying in the book beside you, where your life was found.

You're hurt, bleeding, but the gauze you place hides it all so well.
Your perfect identity, how you show yourself, is it all positive dissimulation?
Why run? An end lies only feet away, but instead you only crumbled, you fell.
Your soul is in tatters, afraid to ask for healing, what's right is now in desecration.

You wish you had construction in mind, a mere idea in design, building a new visage.
One that you could stand on, and know is true, but you can't seem to have the desire.
Where's the reason? It lays before you, hidden among the leafy, dark, and hallowed passage.
Touch the keys, feel the hollow plastic, you know the events within you that transpire.

this is the end
 
Internal (Change)
October 9, 2012 at 3:17pm

Frequently I wonder,
if we'll pay by thunder.
We base our way
on jobs that pay.
So I question freedom
between fits of boredom.
Hyperactive?
Or parents inactive?

There's a veil of secrecy
hidden behind a wall of decency.
"We don't have supremacy"
is a God-proven fallacy.
Why should we change?
We're all a little strange.
So then why not give in
to the spirit within?

We are born independent,
confined by our lack of amendments.
But we still give praise
to any job that pays.
We can't die.
We all live on the inside,
stuck in this homestead,
we are already dead.
 
Oh, the fires
August 24, 2012 at 3:06pm

Oh, the fires
which transpired
Once-vivacious meat
lies dead in the street.
Oh, for the schismogenisis,
the clock turned; minute-less.

Man had lost its will;
his innocence on the bill.
All things were spent,
with no 'sins' to repent.
Wars turned in the skies,
our desires which belied.
The Blood was life,
forgotten --replaced with strife.

Oh, the fires,
fueled by desires.
The search for knowledge
was curtailed by a hedge
of self-deception
and apprehension.
The Trinity denied,
the brains that lied.
Our souls which felt
as our brains melt.

The Tribulation of mankind,
brought by the answers we find.
Our fights were with honesty,
ignored by democracy.
Left, Right, Wrong.
Our words were strong.
But to no avail,
intelligence will fail.

Oh, the fires
which burned our spires.
Lies in positive dissimulation,
Truth without comprehension.
(the fall of mankind)
 
The Solitary
July 29, 2012 at 2:58am

There comes a day
where no one is at our side.
Our fears are at bay,
coming with the rising tide.

Lives were spent,
with no fruit to bear.
Lost the chance to repent,
our hands dug into our hair.

We estranged ourselves
in an attempt to better the world.
They saved themselves,
when their plans are unfurled.

The hate is exchanged,
through mere words.
The news becomes deranged
and all vision is blurred.

Information is disinformation,
no truth is free.
Money is a machination,
to make this world a democracy.

It’s something we all agree on,
when God becomes green.
Pacifism is met with brawn,
while violence with beauty.

The world walks a path
into the eternal darkness
behind the guise of math
and we will never confess.

We teach to be individual
while herding them all together.
The hearts are cruel;
the history will only recur.

Hate is popular opinion,
while love is fake.
It’s all in our dominion,
the choice we had to make.

In the end,
we destroyed it all.
No chance to mend,
lost in the squall.
 
The Last Words
January 28, 2012 at 12:03am

What would your last words be,
if you had one day to live?
Now that your soul is free,
did you ever forgive?

A world so wrathful;
filled with worry and fright.
We are all lost souls,
giving in to spite.

The day they remember,
was is the best or worse?
Were you together,
or apart by curse?

Take one step forward,
and two behind you.
Look across the board
so I can remind you.

Did you ever fix your problems?
Or did you add more?
The answers, you sought them,
and your soul washed ashore.

“Life is too short,
live how you want.”
says the cohort,
beginning to flaunt.

Once they split,
the chasm filled with hate.
They became sick,
they filled up their slate.

It can all be wiped clean,
and we can all be free.
In the sun we gleam;
our eyes open, we see.
 
Shove
January 22, 2012 at 12:37am

Shove.
The answer to push.
The retaliation.
The first instinct.

The hasty violence
brings only more
into the fray
and out of safety.

Wars are fought
where people live.
The battlefield is
where innocence dies.

People give their lives
to save others.
While others save
their own hides.

In a world where money
is the main focus,
nothing can be
said in defense.

The simple pattern of
"You push, I shove"
is rooted everywhere
in every aspect.

A simple accident
will bring on a war,
while people complement
their wallets with death.

The act of charity
can no longer be
afforded by those
who care to give.

And those who have
money only want more.
And they have no use
of the boon they received.

Shove.
To save self at any cost.
To react with violence
instead of observation.

Returning the favor
with only violence,
Because love escapes us,
and it takes too long....
 
Distance
January 22, 2012 at 12:14am

From me to you,
there's space for anything.
From love,
to hate,
to friendship.

The age is nothing.
It's the arms-length
that burdens me.
How can someone be so close
and so far away.

There is love,
and then there's desire.
One brings life,
the other brings destruction,
of one's self and the other.

The cold is missive,
aimed at our hearts.
It's fingers spread like rivers,
flowing into every nook,
wearing it away.

Like glass we shatter,
our insides fractured,
our feelings null.
Was is the belief
that held them together?

Their interests were similar.
Much like ours,
but there was not a connection.
Like two separate views,
they don't look the same way.

Time's grasp pulled them apart,
like the knife that freed the bonds.
Their hands split,
they walked away,
and found their own desires.

They answered the Siren's song.
They were lured in.
I felt the same,
then I was lost.
Then I found my way.

Infatuation became soul.
They burnt like firewood,
turning to ash.
Their embers faded,
and froze over.

I felt lost among the ash
of other's.
Will I ever find my way?
Will I turn to face my own missive,
or will I walk blindly until I'm found.

I will find my way, but not alone.
 
Sleep
January 21, 2012 at 11:50pm
(For once, not a poem, but this is almost all metaphors.)

We sleep.
We close our eyes.
We stop seeing.
We start dreaming.

We forget about the world before that.
We enter the new world our mind has made.
The reality bends.
Our mind takes control.

We awake.
Our eyes open.
We start seeing.
We start thinking.

"In our foolishness of our dreams,
we have forgotten the world,
and it's horrors,
and it's love."

The line between black and white is grey.
We stop walking the line.
We choose a side.
We defense ourselves.

We watch.
Our eyes shut.
We stop seeing.
We stop thinking.

We enter a dream world
inside our own minds.
We form fantasies that say "We are right."
We lose the words "We were wrong."

The side that is chosen is equal
to the side of the opposition.
They are both right.
They are both wrong.

Violence ensues.
Death is in the wake.
Hatred is in the air.
Love has become history.

We close our eyes.
We proceed to sleep.
Nothing was a dream.
It was all life.

We have strayed from the truth.
 
We ask why?
January 17, 2012 at 11:07am

Why is it bad when someone turns their life around?
U-turns aren’t illegal when we’re talking about life.
Our lives are filled with terror and frowns.
And our words come out as only hate and strife.

No one loves like a brother or a sister anymore.
We don’t even know that we’re not supposed to be alone.
The only thing that’s important to us is the score,
although we lose and then we moan.

Why think about the past,
when you can look to the future?
Why look through the glass,
while we’re still picking at the suture?

Why do we look to others
to fix our lowly problems,
when we hate our own mothers,
far after we forgot them?

There’s a time we say “goodbye”
and then we look away.
We meet again and say “hi”
and we forget what to say.
 
Eyes to the Sky
January 16, 2012 at 7:32pm

when we're free, do we fly?
do we leave the earth and take to the sky?
is it true we have a soul,
even when we're deep in our holes?
our eyes are blind to life and vigor
when our lust strikes like a tiger.
we don't care about the mood,
when people are starving for food.
who would rescue me,
when all i do is flee?
my feet are chafed,
and who knows who's giving me chase.
when i think of something greater,
i think of my Creator.
and when i think of something lesser,
i turn to myself and say: "beggar".
what would i be,
if someone hadn't given their life for me?
He forgave me,
for all my atrocities
my sins, my failures,
my wins, my powers,
all to Him,
for i am with Him.
since He rescued me,
and now i am free.
i keep my eyes to the sky,
for one day, i will fly.