(IN EXILE)

(Life has kept me pretty busy. Haven't been able to sit down and process even the slightest thought. Hope to have some new material up soon.)

TIMIDITY

Wrapped in night,
Smoky apparitions.
Lost in translation,
Inaudible words.
Paralytic in the open -
Coiling up,
Falling away.
Shrinking,
Shriveling,
And then
I disappear.

THE MEANING OF FUTILITY

Things rushing around in my head,
Things of which cannot be explained.
The elusive pursuit
Of truth and purity
Has become nothing more
Than an alley cat
Chasing its tail
In some darkened corner of Hell.

THE FIRST STEPS AFTER THE FALL

Trying to see through the smoke
Rising up from the smoldering
Bridges and fallen temples.
Blackwind rising up
While hope seems all but buried
Amongst the ruined world.
Eyes that stare out
Across the wreckage,
Wanting to be shut forever
And pray for amnesia,
Knowing that the misery
Has only just begun.

A CROWD OF THORNS

The language of a crowd,
Whether hostile or jubilant,
Sounds the same
To the mind and ears
Of the unamused.
Somber still,
The imbalanced virtues
Of the cynical,
The diabolical,
And the damned.

MONSTERS AND BEASTS

Slumbering giants
Resting their heads
Behind snowy mountain tops
And billowy clouds.
Slithering dragons,
Sleeping blissfully,
In the womb of the Earth,
Beneath rock and bone.
Darkly dreaming demons,
Walking in daylight
In between the shadows
Bringing about our doom.
The monsters beneath our beds,
And in the corners of our minds,
Are slowly creeping into the open,
To wrestle hope to the ground
And bury it alive.

METASTATIC

There is irrefutable proof that the world grows darker,
More sinister, more malevolent every day.
The microbes and parasites work feverishly
To divide us all, and wedge allies apart,
Creating a fractured world,
Inhabiting tiny parcels of fearmongered lands,
Led by serpents, demons, and beasts.
The sky turns ashen, black, opaque,
And the sun dims and fades slowly away.
Still, there is a glimmer of hope,
In every child’s eyes,
Just before they taste the venom
Flowing from breasts of Grendel’s mother.
When will the world awaken, and realize
The only cure for the disease
Keeping us separate, is love?
And when will the disparaged,
Cast out the fearmongers,
And turn away from the lies?
No one seems to know.
And not many seem to care.