journey lost

death surge on the eve
of a nocturnal journey home
piercing, resounding noise sans melody
hidden message of the day
calling hate to reside in hearts
to weak for life and love and harmony

distorted subgenre growls to eden lost
and exodus found on the shores
of blackened blasphemy minus hope
minus worth
minus destiny
minus hope

S.B.S

I don’t hear them when they shout
I don’t care if they can’t be
I don’t want to make it stop
It doesn’t matter much to me

How long must I look?
How long ‘til you go?
Why can’t you not see?
You don’t matter much to me.

Broken knots and tattered rags
Piled along the crowded sand
Torn apart and cast away
No one left to take a stand

Battle not for me to fight
Battle not for me to care
Battle fought for freedom lost
Battle not for us to share

Poem: The New Game

The world sits courtside
Fixed for news
Of their favorite team
High def visions
From across the world
Winner take all.

Poem: The Game of War

Talking trash
Shootin’ low
Street ball rules
Friend or foe
Three point shot
From the line
Leather bumps
Boys at prime
Blasts away
Bim bam boom
Clicked off rounds
End too soon
Game called short
Time to go
Who did win?
No one knows.

Poem: Winds of Change

Immutable laws guide our faith -- troubled deeply
in the marred confusion of modernity.
A force greater than this guides us from within.
Some possess it on the verge of madness
Others in quite serenity and the forlorned focus
Of insomnia – genius not of our world
Lost…afflicted…damaged souls of borders
Adrift on a sea of obscure and wanton nomads
Clenching tightly their heads – sheltering their ears
From the voices who call loudly on the winds of change.

defcon four

What is the equivalent
To defcon four
When the enemy rides horses
And fights with fire
And the long cold blade of the machete?

What happens
If neither the fire
Nor the blade can
Disturb our sleep
Without the reality of piercing our skin?

Wait…
What happens is…
We’ll go to the box store
And purchase a toy or two
From the country whose funds
Help sponsor the “conflict”
And cast away thoughts unpretty
On the backs of those
Whose skin can be pierced
In the reality of their own defcon four.