unearthing poems
the shadows do the talking
looking at the begging glares
how strange the fallen’s cries
dug down with tar dug down with sound
restless fading tired flights
the day will come for time to bleed
restfull deeds they strengthen
drop down and smell the glow alone
new nights come and claim the calm
their eyes burst into flames
the path that shows the light
must pass revealing the shine
opened and exposed
clearer dawns have risen before
spent and hollow how we’ve grown
held up high the truths we’ve heard
caught between the falling eyes and thoughts again
wait no more for now you know
how to feel the breath of wise minds gone astray
hang up the look of emptiness
towards the sky
you see the future smile
as the lights go out
rolling visions hide low and silent
take some time oh how you’ve grown
awoken by the tone of what you’ve seen in the past
cut the time and drinks in half
how long will this last?
He fathered them all,
Their blushing mother nursed them,
Balanced them in the gentle sway of her delicate fabric.
As children they loved their Mother,
In awe of the Father that provided all.
From a shared cradle they emerged,
Brothers and sisters.
From above, their Father watched their wanderings.
Illuminating their world with light and life,
As He made His way across the sky.
In four directions His children spread,
Chasing horizons over great distances.
Like seeds on a wind.
The Children of the East, welcomed their Father each day.
The Children of the South, best knew their Father’s warmth.
The Children of the West, danced to their Father’s music.
The Children of the North, grew distant from their Father.
Discovering in the shadows of their Father’s absence,
The cold side of a lonely Mother.
Building walls they turned inward,
Growing pale in their solitude.
Nearsighted through honed dexterity,
Pride swelling with the power of creation.
Linguistic palaces ascended to heaven,
Their father and mother subjugated by name.
They charted the distant stars.
They mapped the earth’s contours.
They mastered inferior races.
They worshiped themselves.
Fair skin easily seared,
By a father made sun.
~r
Given enough time,
All things are rendered neuter…
Given enough time.
A brown streak of smog
hangs above the horizon
like a skidmark in the sky;
an embarrassing stain left behind
on December’s crystalline-
blue perfection.