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He lives, like a kite without a string; Swept up by any breeze, Constantly cleaving all ties to his name He soars in the moment, Gradually sinking To the weathered wreckage Of his former self
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The fires now rise in the west Leaving mountains of cinders To climb in their wake A bittersweet silence lurks In the burned-out husk of a city; Pursuing the flames On their murderous path
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It began as a rumor, A distant rumbling in the east, Then a trail of survivors It began behind a veil of smoke, Now it brightens my hollow nights As it fills them with ashes
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Today I stared down Yet another, Winding lane that curved out of view I locked wary eyes With a life Of nameless miseries and joys; Trembling, As I inched in reverse With a reckless tongue, I could have spiraled frightened; Taken For the sweetest ride Or tricked Into a shady descent
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Originally posted on Raja's Insight: Congratulations to the following contributors whom have been chosen for the literary publication ESSENTIAL EXISTENTIALISM – the meaning of life. ESSENTIAL EXISTENTIALISM Contributors: Alicia Minjarez Ramírez – Nocturnal Sun, Faraway Air, Insights Amanda J. Evans – The Game of Life, Three Words, The Meaning of Life Andrena Zawinski – Another…
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Cropped down Humbled again, By the swing of an ax, I’m thankful For the jagged wounds in my bark Cleaved to pieces again Life’s chipped away at me Now I’m lost among the stumps Burned again To flying bits of ember Then stomped into silence, I’m wedded to the soil Bound to rise again To…
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Originally posted on Raja's Insight: Fire and Ice Both of them burn The cold and the heat Each enjoying a turn Fire and Ice Instigators of change They devour the weak In the wars that they wage Fire and Ice Stealing all of my dreams Neither are never Quite what they seem Fire and Ice…
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I can’t recall swerving off the road; And slipping out of view Into a forest Of scheming, Silhouettes and shadows Where there are no landmarks; No charitable guides To that lumbering trail, Of glaring red lights
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It sort of feels like home, In the binds of this sweater; Greyed out and fading, Day after day It sort of feels like shelter In a slow moving trap, Before its teeth have drawn blood It sort of feels like safety For now, Until All its faults fuse with mine And fewer friends have…
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Originally posted on Raja's Insight: Foreword . . . Many moons ago I realized the power of words and how they can accurately describe the nuances of emotion. They can take a person to the highest highs, and just as easily, that person can plummet into nothingness…. just by words. It is fascinating how perception…
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