Wednesday, December 19, 2018

The Monotony of Days

 We tell ourselves that it will change

The clock will tick another way

Will change its ever sounding chime

But we know it never does

It always stays the same.

Fools march through the darkness

Will nothing but a meager flame

To ward off the encroaching wave

We know it is a feeble game

Yet still we play.

Chains clank against our thighs

As we walk through the murky mire

We say we’re free

Why do we lie?

Nothing will ever change.

Our sighs and groans lift to heavens

A cry above raises our eyes

We see an owl fly overhead

We bow in misery.

We stifle our cries and bite our tongues

Who can say whether we've really won?

The owl is free in the stars above.

We know we cannot be.

But a howl in the darkness reminds us

Awakens the inner tragedy

At the sliver of the moon

It wails raises its bushy tail

Its soul cries out in doom and fail

Wrapped in lonely.

Silently we trudge on

To the ever closing dawn

The one that will be our victory song

When will it be?

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

The Long Awaited Darkness










                                   It creeps around the edges of our consciousness
                                   It vies for our attention and jostles our mind
                                   They have waited for centuries for it to rise
                                   And slowly it surrounds us.
                                   It suffocates our peace and stirs up strife
                                   It crushes our joy and raises despair
                                   They want to hide in its safety
                                   Let its welcoming arms envelope them
                                   So they can do their ill deeds in relativity.
                                  Who can say what is what in the darkness?
                                  Who can say I am right and you are wrong?
                                  Who can discern shadow from shadow?
                                  Only light will show  what is true and what is not.
                                 
                                  Tiny white flames dot the ebony landscape with their burning
                                   Shining on them and their deeds
                                   They surround the flames and smother some
                                    But they can  never snuff them all.
                                 
                                   Though the  flames grow smaller in number they never dim
                                   They think they won but they can't see
                                   The rising white tide under the surface so
                                   They collect their ill fated works
                                   And smile in the long awaited darkness.
                                 

Friday, January 26, 2018

Entropy



                           We splash in a placid pool blue and shining, our brothers and sisters with us
                            The Human Race in one ocean playing, others struggling to float
                             We splash and play for countless moments...
                            A darkness ebbs from the center and a hole opens up. 
                            The center throbs and begins to funnel pulling in some of our brothers. 
                             Crying out, we try to save them but it is useless
                             They are sucked in never to be found.
                             It spirals downward and pulls us in like a current
                             Dragging us  clawing and screaming
                            We pull and try to fight it but there's nothing we can do. 
                            We hope to reach the bottom tilting and sloshing but there is only emptiness
                            The roar and strain is almost to much to bear, but what else can we do?
                            We pull on our brothers and sisters trying to get away but we are all caught in this
                            Downward spiral
                            It is always hungry and gets hungrier still till there is nothing left but It.
                            Still plummeting down and around, we cry for someone to help us.
                            The only help for this tragedy will come at the end.
                             When a trumpets sounds declaring the  beginning of the end
                             The end of the war that's been waging since the dawn of time.
                              Then we who have survived will surface  and float in a serene sea 
                              And then nothing will ever drag us down.