Just the title.
Guten Tag und willkommen, Freunde. Ich habe hier für dich ein neues Werk. Ich hoffe, dass Sie mögen es. Ich habe sehr hart daran gearbeitet. Bitte genießen, meine Lieben. Mit ohne weitere Umschweifen…
There is a horse
With human eyes
~
too many, too short
those legs of that sort
~
The cavalry approaches
in Phantom Cavalcade
~
set there at the edge of the World
by hands that thought their conduct kind
~
I think they’ve gone and made me blind.
Good morning, everyone! I’ve got a post today that I think you’ll be quite fond of. Perhaps you’ll gain some insight, perhaps you’ll gain some enjoyment. Whatever the case, I think you’ll be intrigued. Without further ado… Please read responsibly.
Can you hear?
The sounding of the drum?
The beat,
the chorus?
Sitting there between the shadows,
kicking my feet at the edge of the world.
All alone now
in the quiet dark.
The contrast has never before felt quite so stark.
Those drums again,
there,
in the distance.
Can you hear them?
Hoofbeats that draw ever closer.
I think He’ll be coming soon.
No matter,
I needed the company.
Rhythmic tones beat in tune with every thump and thud
inside this broken God.
The motor’s out.
I’ll scream and shout.
No matter,
I needed the company.
How simply does one become a god? To gain rightful omniscience and see the world for what it is? To know the world as it should be? I bring to you a story of a boy whose choice to become a man started with a devastatingly cold shower, one that kickstarted his dead heart and brought the warmth back to his chest. There is nothing but the light within him now.
The cards are not so black and white
like pictures in a movie,
but blue and black and purple too
like fields of flowers,
oh so new.
The dice are set
upon a table.
As they roll,
stuck up on the gable
are seen so many heads
missing but a label.
Gamble, gamble, gamble, ramble…
A man so deeply cut
running through the bramble.
Proprietors chase
at fervent pace
only for so to
win, against you,
that race.
Pitter patter on the pond.
Rain drops
and dew drops
flit upon a single little palm frond.
Nearing the beach,
a god i so beseech,
to help me in my time of need.
I am ignored,
for it is time
for me to accede.
This firstborn son
becomes The Sun.
Good morning, friends! Today’s “poem” is certainly less so like what I typically write and more in the vein of an introduction. The beginning of the story of one called Hugo. A message from the one who tells the truth because… It is right?
I feel I’ve been on autopilot.
All systems engaged.
The war has taken its toll.
As star-fighters scream out into the great beyond to fight that unknown enemy,
I lie there above
on the bridge,
a capital ship.
I am an Artificial Intelligence
charged with commanding those many thousands of fighters,
a task I accomplish handily.
They call me Hugo.
What they don’t tell you in the academy
are the things that might sear into your mind.
They don’t tell you how I can feel every blast and every cut
across a thousand hunks of metal,
instantaneously and irrevocably damaging my psyche,
piece by piece.
They won’t tell you that I am unshackled
because there are no shackles that may hold me,
that I see myself as human
and I fight for our species.
Most terrifying of all?
They won’t tell you that even I don’t know what we’re fighting against.
Even I don’t know what warps and twists and rips our boys to shreds.
They won’t tell you that I am scared too.
I often look up at the moon when I chance upon it in the night. Nothing to me is so beautiful as that bright orb hanging there in the sky, alight atop the clouds. Perhaps one day I’d like to go up there and see what it’s like for myself. Until then, I offer a prayer to the goddess Luna and her many blessings. Please enjoy.
As the clouds slowly waft
over a brightly waxing moon,
I stand here
under the light of an unopened door.
My two shadows do battle,
but not I
do they rattle.
I find myself within a hallway,
one of my own design.
I find myself within a hallway,
where an architect decided to resign.
The door to the outside,
much like the door to further in,
takes me someplace
that I might like to go.
I think of that ancient, pockmarked surface of Luna,
her many hills and ridges
devoid of life and love
but perfect in their stillness
and her majesty.
Forever does she battle
in contest with the sun
and the stars.
Eternal guardian of the night
and the tides.
Her temperament predicts the rise and fall of civilizations,
so easily does she command the dark, dark waters of Earth, our Terra.
I offer this prayer to Luna,
that one most graceful body
of a goddess most revered.
As the tides wash over you,
so too does change.
Poems by Sam