Rusty

My best is gone now

my prowess squandered

hope wanders

behind so distant

it stumbles blindly

come find me!

My withered spirit

is eminating

self loathing

whatever happened

to the man whose insight

lit dark nights

I still have something

the shattered edges

sharp ledges

they cut my fingers

but I'm still climbing

no whining

The path is set now

no longer falling

risk calling

one last adventure

no longer aimless

or graceless

Poetry

Rhyming makes the bard

and metaphors are the door's key

Poetry's not hard

I'll show you all, you'll see

Poetry is the wind in the sails

of the submarine of damnation

it's the chorus of silence

that solves a negative number of equations

in a land of nothing but sand and rocks

it is the grilled cheese sandwich of elation

That's all it takes to be grand

The majestic wordsmith maestro

and when people don't understand

Just claim you're literary Picasso

Hero

It's not about strength

because no amount of muscle is needed to achieve it

It's not about intelligence

you can read a thousand books and still miss it

It's not about bravery

as you can do it as your heart pounds with fear

It's about integrity, dedication, and commitment

knowing the biggest wall in front of you is disbelief

and fully comprehending the gravity of the task ahead

not cutting corners even where its accepted

when your goal is unbelievably distant

yet you still put one foot in front of the other

It's about going on

when no one would blame you for stopping

walking steadily into the maw of defeat

without trepidation, or resignation

when all of hope is not lost

because there was never hope to be had

Those who can will be the ones remembered

not Alan and Sally in administration

who were too worried about the risks

to consider it anything other than a lost cause

Apathy

I don't feel like writing today

please go away, I've nothing to say

I don't feel like writing today.

My heart has gone and disappeared

doesn't strike me as weird, just as I feared

just simply gone and disappeared

I'm left with nothing to feel,

it seems so unreal, my chest cold as steel,

it doesn't even hurt to not feel

My soul's silence echoes no plea

I'm no longer me, he's gone off to flee

too distant to echo his plea

and the silence longs for no sound

I've gone all around, and all I have found

historical references to the beauty of sound

my body longs to be still

it has had its fill, no longer finds thrill

and now wants to rest and be still

and the world ever calls out so

still you must go, you're moving to slow

Oh, how I wish it weren't so.

And Why Not? It worked in Blazing Saddles.

And who do you see

it's only just me

nothing else with that statement

(not even parentheses)

So what do I do

but stand and stare

and sit sometimes too

in a comfortable chair

now time to hang loose

and cook a nice DiGiorno

If there's nothing on the tube

why not rent a porno?

And so, it appears

I've missed the time

and in tune with my fears

I'm passed my prime

So drive down to the mall

to see inappropriate flirts

why do we line the halls

with teens in short skirts?

And while on the subject

a law we can enhance

no one wears any outer garments

with less cloth than my underpants.

The rain comes down outside

sometimes sounding like

a cobbled together

staccato wind

Procrastination

So many distractions

so few worthwhile endeavors

I'd start one right now

if it wouldn't take forever

but the flowers are blooming

and the birds are all tweets

and the hearts are a booming

as the bodies are between sheets

And running are the trains

with so many places to go

to the mind it shoes strain

when we're forced to go slow

and the stories without number

release reality's restraint

and their grand verses encumber

our lives which are quaint

And I didn't stop to plan

not one moment did I wait

now the shit has hit the fan

as I am running late

So many things

prepared upon the line

I'd have gotten them done

if I started on time

Phantom

He is contained in darkness
making no sound
speaking no word
he has no muscle to move
but I cannot escape him

As I walk the streets
on warm, sunny days
he rides in my shadow
his bony, frigid hands
grasping fervently for my ankles
hoping for just enough grip
to pull me down into
the darkness I create
when I blot out the light

Beset upon
by the foul stench of his presence
I can only contemplate
an eternity of this torment
He was short lived
and ever longer dead
and any and all attempts
to give back to him his life
through word or deed
are met with inquisitions
to whether or not he truly lived

His existence is my eternal onus
In no way can my folly be undone
And so forever must I endure
my mistake

The Night Sky

Oh the night sky

seems more content than I

the stars are all alight

and the moon shines so bright

nothing bothers the night sky

aside from the occasional cloud passing by

but beware the content illusion

for darkness only breeds delusion.

The Divine's Apology

I'm sorry I didn't hold your hand,
through everything,
that I didn't make your life warm sunshine,
and misty carefree rainbows.

I'm sorry that I want you to feel pain,
to suffer and be cut down,
So that you can grow up, stand on your feet,
and know what it means to not be able to.

I'm sorry that I Had to show you,
soul charring loss,
in order to show you the true value,
of simple gains.

I'm sorry I gave you emotion,
for you seem to obsess with how you are broken,
instead of realizing you have the strength,
to triumph over your shortcomings.

I'm sorry that when I told you,
"I'll always be with you,"
you assumed that I would ensure,
that I would solve all your problems.

I'm sorry that when you look back,
on your walk through existence,
and see one set of footprints behind you,
that you assume I was absent.

I'm doubly sorry when you assume,
that those are my footprints,
and I was carrying you,
because you were too weak to walk.

You weren't.

It was by your own will that you survived your turmoils,
those lonely footprints are the war drum beats
of the endurance of the human heart,
a testament to the divine mold you were cast from.

I was always at your side,
encouraging your steps,
but you did the work.
Had I carried you it would have been an insult,
to the quality of my craftsmanship.

So I am sorry if what I have done,
is too far beyond your understanding,
I'm sorry that you focus on your life's burdens,
instead of reveling in its adventures.

Chains of Order

If you don't let go and allow me to be free,
this empty shell is what you'll get from me.

No passion, caring, love or thought,
goes in to this creation you have wrought.

This lifeless act, this wicker stage,
is a closed book with but an empty page.

when you put garbage in, you'll get garbage out,
Surrounded by rain, this farce is a drought.

Your orders are rules that hold no law,
so let's end this now, and call it a draw.

It's not me you want, is what most bemuses,
unconcerned for my body, or psychological bruises.

So cut this one loose and let it be free,
And perhaps you'll delight when you truly meet me.

Summer

A warm breeze
the tall trees
the quick freeze
of a cold stream

The hot sun
unending fun
with loved ones
Eating ice cream

The park grass
a pretty lass
not too high class
the perfect team

The evening sky
a ravens cry
the angels lie
on a moon beam

A wishing well
a flower's smell
a season's spell
a happy dream

The Fall of Lucifer: Vanitas

The charge he knew was treason,
the weightiest of crimes,
the length of his sentance,
eons beyond the end of time.

This did not shake him very much,
At first he was not too unnerved,
and he braced himself for what was come,
his punishment well deserved.

But there was no holy fire,
no pillory or heavy chain,
though he screamed aloud for it,
there was no physical pain.

No agony to distract his mind,
no escape from his prison was known,
the truth was that his only burden,
was to be unconditionally alone.

So through nothingness he flew,
old songs of worship he did sing,
of the glory of his Father,
as the chill of the void did sting.

And there was not even a solemn echo,
just darkness without walls,
when his wings were too tired to carry him,
through emptiness he'd fall.

Cruel irony pollutes his mind,
with an eternity to contemplate,
how his acts paralleled those of man,
now blasphemous as those he did hate.

With so much time to erode his thoughts,
empty eternity his banishment,
he wonders if he was right to challenge a God,
whom would bestow to anyone this punishment.

The Fall of Lucifer: Virtus

So marched unyielding Lucifer,
Morning star brightly shining,
his need for order did ensure,
angel's blood as heaven's lining,

His soul, forged of fire pure,
caused his skin to blister,
as he fearlessly charged against,
his brother and his sister,

"Look at the lord," He cried, and cried,
"put his word to the test,
All too soon you'll surely see,
all I long for is what's best."

One by one his allies fell,
his vanguard torn asunder,
by will alone he forged a path,
when the others did surrender,

Finally, In his own warped mind,
could be seen the true beauty,
his vigor was by far the greatest,
the masterpiece of his Deity.

And those who survived him,
speak the truth of what they know,
of his eyes of false purpose,
and terrible wrath filled woe.

To the throne he marched,
And all of heaven did quake,
Only when he saw the tears of God,
did he finally see his mistake,

For forgiveness, he did plead,
for grace, and understanding he asked,
for how could he follow so blindly,
when not fully comprehending the task.

Verbally the answer was silence,
so again his heart did swell,
And he pondered then his fate,
when from the heavens he fell.

Now the scholars will all laugh,
And the poets only can cry,
to have seen God's beautiful creation,
His majesty gone awry.

The Fall of Lucifer: Veritas

So the one who was made perfect,

and under only the Sun would shine,

was called forward to kneel,

by the Righteous Divine.

But when the charge was seen,

the great creation corrupt,

he saw no need to kneel,

before the morally bankrupt.

They're called to make peace,

and to praise God on high,

but their souls were wicked,

and their worship a lie.

Their hearts were impure,

as their own flesh they rend,

and God asked for to bow,

and on knee to bend,

How can one be humble,

and lay down before,

all the ones so unholy,

scoffing at divine law.

The truth did elude him,

and caused his heart to swell,

so he searched for the answers,

on the mountains, and in wells.

No answers he could find,

no answers save but one,

the Lord must be fallible,

His divinity undone.

So he called out to anyone,

and found those among his peers,

who saw no truth in their orders,

who echoed his fears.

Structure must be preserved,

and now God must be felled,

as Heaven would surely crumble,

if order were not upheld.

So he looked unto his Father,

with sobs and with regret,

for now he was forced to challenge,

the one he owed his debts.

But one path shone through tears,

trepidation no more,

and he sadly raised his horn,

to call Heaven to war.

Nonsense

On the cold windswept plains of the fiery desert,

an incorrigible iconoclast assembled irrelevant dictations,

while the hard, cracked soil was soft and comforting,

beneath newly rested and tired feet.

Stumbling in the stillness of the dark,

Gathering bearings by only the brightest of dim flames,

the harrowing journey comfortably carried on,

for years at a time.

How can we do anything but wander,

when our sun, shining bright enough to burn skin,

cannot act as our compass,

to the darkness brought on by knowing the truth,

or learning that one can never fully understand it.

A fully understood vagueness varies,

as the visceral viciousness of vivacity,

drives a dearth of distinguishment,

through an egregious chiasm of miasma.

And on the journey of a thousand thoughts,

bearing an absence of any and all words,

once is forced to stop while pressed to move,

and asked to unravel and otherwise decode,

the mystery of dress slacks.

Hubris

An echo of love once spoke to me,

from the darkness of eternity,

of bonds of kinship formed in steel,

quickly dissolved in a fit of zeal,

when a one whose loyalty claimed everlong,

was met in passing by the slightest wrongs.

In response a call went out to the sky,

demands of justice six feet high,

for sacrifice and suffering he did live,

oft more than he had he would gladly give,

but now a trial needed to be heard,

for he could not tolerate the offensive word.

An apology was demanded at once,

for what was claimed a horrid affront,

But no sooner was it asked then it was received,

but it evaporated in the air, so not retrieved.

Since words are worthless as a cold, dark sun,

the man requested aggregious retribution.

The response was given, violent and swift,

no compensation given to seal this rift,

They then both turned and walked away,

and spoke no more after that day,

From then on whenever they encountered another,

they spoke only of the offenses of their brother,

When asked of the other, they always lied,

and said there was no peace, even though they tried,

As ages past, and their bones dried,

they thought of each other and always cried,

No reconciliation given, as foolish pride,

ensured they never met again, until one died.

Spirit

Down on the pavement

bleeding, bruised, and now swelling

I stared at my foe.

Throughout my body,

the violent spikes of pain

distort his visage

Every movement,

or involuntary twitch,

burning agony

Over beaten bone,

and surrendering sinew,

pain sings out in fire

It must be over

the agony burns my thoughts

my mind fills with ash

And if I could stand

I possess no strategy

defeat is my tomb

My limbs atrophy

yet something still stirs inside

whispering madness

Ringing fills my ears

and the whispers have no words

but they have passion

All goals disappear

rationale evaporates

just sheer will remains

Before I can think

I am on my feet again

the pain is too much

the world stops briefly

then the drive ignites the pain

its flames are my fuel

He sees the process

amazed and in awe of it

the dead man rising

quickly our eyes meet

for the slightest of moments

the battle pauses

We smile with privilege

glimpsing a humanity

more than physical

Noir

As a siren cries in the distance

a single man walks the night

along an empty city street

as the cloudy remnants of newly finished rain,
spread veinly across the sky
like a moth eaten curtain trying to hide the moon
which casts a pall lifeless gray over the ichor of the wet city street.

A solitary street lamp flickers violently before popping,
desperatley trying for one last attempt to assist the moon
to bring light to these dark, wet corners,
that even on the brightest day
never seem to get enough light.

As the man keeps walking,
Steam slowly flows out of a grate
by the corner of a nearby building,
the breath of the city itself
sighing at the loneliness of the street.

A few dead leaves line the wet, trash filled streets,
markers of the life that this night no longer seems present,
while a slight foul odor oozes out of a nearby alleyway,
but is all but carried away by a late autumn wind.

The man keeps walking,
as he knows he must.
He's one of the few left in these parts to cast light,
though mortal eyes cannot see it.
Still, his motives lie buried deep
in a forgotten pocket of an empty wallet.

This dark, wet city houses millions.
Though no soul can be seen now,
The man knows it is but brick and mortar
between him and its people
and yet still, as he walks the night in search of answers
he is impossibly alone.

Woe

Woe unto Sinners!
Languish the to the Lechers Lost in Lust,
Their hearts blindfolded by genetic breed.
Grieve for the Greedy, and the Gluttonous,
Striving to fill emptiness' pit with greed.
Sing Sorrow softly for souls so Slothful,
Shackled without purpose like an ever growing weed.
Weep for the Wicked warped with Wrath's Will,
Their anger driven hard, spurs on Fear's steed.
Evoke elegies of empty empathy for those of envy,
Driven solely by visions of only earthly need.
Pity the people pressed by Pride Persistently,
Stocking blindly the value on one's own deed.

Woe unto sinners!
Morosely mourn their malicious afflictions,
but elicit no effort to understand the condition!
Drown dutifully their dreams in the dooming depth of darkness.
Sear softly sincere smiles from your slippery subconscious.
Know not their nervousness nursed by their false starts,
Along with All of the happy hope held by their hearts.
Beware the budding beauty in them briefly running wild,
Careful and Carefree chasing a cherished child.
Join not in the jubilance from any Jaunty jest.
Never weep woefully for the wails that weigh upon their breast!
Cast off and crush the cloak of their camaraderie,
and intensely ignore the impending implications of humanity.
For if you never nudge yourself anywhere near,
and righteously rigorously rue them,
you'll never have to face the frightful fear,
that maybe you too are human.