Tag Archives: cold

Spirit of the Times

Good morning, everyone. There is much I must take care of, much I have to worry about. In the meantime, I’ve a new poem for you all to consider. Without further ado, please enjoy.

Zeitgeist

Ghosts and specters swirl around

in graceful twirls they do abound,

with their cold touch they do surround,

now feeling lost but never found.

In the bin out there in back

on account of such that I did lack.

My head and hands these thoughts did wrack

on account of that thing which I did lack

and something there I’ll not get back.

I see the ghosts across the water…

Nay, upon the water.

My mind then starts to wander

about those things that hearts do ponder.

Philters and phials could not save

that man which breaks and makes insane;

there is some feeling that does not wane

no matter who the ghosts arraign.

Though it seems the tide is low,

the water tends to encroach slow.

Most decide to go

but while I’m still here,

I think I’d like to know.

Crepuscular

Good afternoon, everyone. Have you ever looked into the twilight? Have you ever seen them? Those crepuscular things… Perhaps they look more sincerely into you. Without further ado:

Silence of the Lived-In Ghost

No.

It is so.

They cannot see.

No, they cannot see.

Those things that find their way

into these eyes of mine.

They do not know.

How those ghosts cry out…

No, they cannot see them.

They cannot hear them.

Their cries,

their screams.

They cannot see those eyes,

the eyes of ghosts

inside their hosts.

I have seen the dark,

how those ghosts traverse it.

Caught between the night and day,

it’s past their time

with nothing to say.

No, they cannot see them.

But these ghosts, these specters,

they haunt my nights

and stalk my days.

Perhaps it is so

that I am among them,

watching and waiting

for my time again.

Caught between the night and day

in that little place

with nothing to say.

Paradoxical Paradigm

Good afternoon, everyone! It has been a long while since I’ve posted on a Sunday. I hope you all have had a wonderful weekend, and for those starting their Monday on the other side of the world, I hope you have a wonderful day. The sentiments of this piece may seem vaguely familiar, the stench of indecision and ambiguity being one we might all recognize. Please enjoy, my friends.

Twisted Memories

The last dream I had?

No, I…

I cannot remember it.

I must be mad.

It sang to me once,

that one dream I dreamt,

but now is lost to me

unsynchronized,

without harmony.

No truer words were spoken,

no more valuable a token

had ever once been given.

If only I…

If only I could remember

the shapes those words resemble.

My heart beats in time with drums

which, in turn, compete with hums

that reverberate and kiss me ‘till I’m numb.

How did I ever find the time,

adhering to that awful paradigm?

I only wished for a simple sign.

Thinking About Forever

Good afternoon, everybody. I’m having a pretty good day today. The things I thought were hard have turned out to be easy, and the things I thought would be easy became the trivial. I will spend the rest of today enjoying the beautiful sun and some time off. I hope the rest of your day, however, will be spent reading all of my wonderful poems. In that regard, I have for you a new development! Please enjoy my latest work. Without further ado…

Infinity

I thought I knew what it was to be cherished,

cared for,

doted on.

I thought I knew what it was to be loved

and I would have died for but a whisper of that

one,

single

idea.

How in my own peculiar way I expected that it would always be so.

But alas,

never was it meant to be.

It was my studying of the minutiae of this great and terrible array of feelings that led me to a single, forlorn conclusion.

I will state it thusly:

There is no such thing as infinity. The train will always hit you when you’re lying on the tracks.

It Is Written

Good afternoon, everyone. I’ve got a pretty cool little story today that I think you’ll love. Let me know what you think in the comments below. Without further ado…

Our Will Be Done

Penance? Penance. For a crime I did not commit. Why then? The sin of being born? Original and pervasive as it is throughout my bones, my nerves, my veins. Why is it I, he who requests to not be named, that must suffer the transgressions of others?

For there in their brilliance and shine is it done. The light. Seen through these eyes of mine, filtered through a red haze. Have you ever been so angry? Have you ever felt this rage?

Thy will be done, Lord. It is You, that one who hath wrought such pain and suffering. One who hath shown such endless indignation in the face of your children who, tired of your inaction, sought the help and the praise of other Gods. Perhaps, ones who might listen. Perhaps, ones who might act.

This is a world succumbed to sin, though the fault lies not with its people, but the God who chose to abandon them. A God who decided that his children were no longer worth saving. We are already in a Hell created by indecision and thoughtlessness.

It is not I who will repent when the day is done, for these crimes are not mine. They are yours, Lord. It is not we who must repent for you, but you who must sacrifice for your children. Our will be done, lest you lose your place on your golden throne.