Tag Archives: war

Window Pain

My mind is adrift upon a raft I’ve sewn from cheap thread and old leather, one that buoys atop the bilge-water I forever fear that I will sink into. Maybe everything looks the wrong color when the window you’re looking through is dirtied so heavily. Without further ado…

Window Pain

Like streaks of paint

sliding down the inside face

of one little window pane,

my thoughts take on

the consistency of these oils

that stick to canvas

but not to glass.

Smeared as they are,

these ideas that live and breathe,

growing and changing

into beautiful things

and horrible things

through which the world can be seen.

Peering out,

through the reds,

through the greens,

and the cyans,

one might have trouble seeing

those things that shade

in hues galore.

Perhaps one day

I’ll see the world

clearly

and unobstructed,

no longer undone

by the lines upon

this window pane.

The Plight of the Firstborn Son

Good afternoon, everyone! I have been so incredibly busy that I have hardly had the time to write though it is with a glad heart that I would present to you a new piece written by, and you may have guessed it, yours truly. While I hope that you enjoy it, I do hope that you don’t relate too strongly to the images it paints in your head. That would break my little old heart. Without further ado…

The Plight of the Firstborn Son

The plight of the firstborn son,

that one,

the only one,

his hazel eyes.

Reflections,

refractions,

green and gold and amber…

Nothing quite like him,

you know?

I look into his eyes,

my eyes,

seeing someone I never recognize;

someone I never fully realize.

His eyes, they change in the light.

If only it were,

that you could tell

what he’s supposed to be.

What is he supposed to be?

All alone

inside his head

through stained glass

I peek and peer.

What is this man?

A boy who sits upon a pew?

A man who lies when you already knew?

No pattern,

I don’t recognize…

There’s nothing all around.

Ready Teddy?

Good afternoon, all. I’ve got a nice little poem for you today. Wrote it a couple weeks ago. I’ve not found things to be improving, only disproving and dealigning. Perhaps you’ll find some meaning in my little works. Without further, please enjoy.

Dead To Rights

Crumbling towers of marble and granite

turn to dust with those who plan it

on the eve of my dying planet.

Set there by the edge of the world,

finding now it’s been unfurled.

There is a canvas coated in blood

that showed the coming of the flood.

No one listened

to those words

that ooze like mud.

This world is dead

with hardly a word left to be said.

Corinthians 11:14

Good afternoon, everyone. You’ll do some reading. Not too much though! Wouldn’t ever want to do too much… Please enjoy the poem today, my friends. I did work ever so diligently to bring it to you. Without further ado:

Corinthians 11:14

Demons, demons

one and all.

Take your place,

take your face.

Look again

and meet the leper.

Again in the den

of one false shepherd.

Do you hear?

Those whispers that draw near?

Loud, loud, loud, loud…

Are those eyes inside that cloud?

They haunt and stalk;

destroy your mirror

and your screens.

That’s how they sit

inside your jeans.

Don’t let them in,

don’t let them out.

They’ll scream and shout.

Don’t let them out.

A sweet boy

now just a ploy.

They’ll take your place

and take your face.

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.