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I threw open the windows and doors With a fluttering pulse Enthralled, by empathy’s sweetened song The song That lived and lied within me, That warm melody The one I’d never betray I threw open the windows and doors And was met by a jeering gale Of debris and splinters Now the doors swing open…
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Somewhere in the expanding past Are the scorched yellow plains Where I’ve shed Precious seconds of youth That misery was lost Beyond the edge of a forest; Where the rays of tomorrow’s riches Shine through, Now and then
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On empty days like this The skies can burn red, Glowing With the ancient artform of carnage During precious moments The earth can erupt Into hulking columns Of mud and shrapnel One morning Can spill into a century of blood, Tearing full lives to pieces, By their flimsy roots
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The eyes of tomorrow are upon us Wherever we stumble; Scribbling every name, For every unanswered crime Those eyes Are never far behind, Whenever we rush to bury Any trace of our guilt
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These days She emerges in watercolors; Set free From her dreamless sleep She spreads her roots Through today’s fertile ground Beneath the honest rays, Of a new and watchful sun
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The earth is alive Pulsing with the fury of millions With a tapestry, Of ireful sons and daughters The earth is alive It quakes with every voice, Shouting down the wicked Wherever they arise
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I’ve reached a plain After a long and rugged spiral From a heavenly perch There are rows of grass Craning for the sun; Shielding the horizon As I cut through their maze Of towering shadows Will their secretive blades Turn to tall ever-greens, Or return me To the cold hard sprawl of concrete?
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People are always writing on his skin, Scrawling short proverbs And he lets them After all, their words can do no harm Someday, there will be no more Unclaimed skin And they’ll blot each other out As they bury him In their frantic swirls of ink They’ll scrap and they’ll scrawl Until he’s slipped from…
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I slid a knife across my stomach Before a wide-eyed tribe, They spoke among themselves In rapid whispers I set the blade aside And unraveled In pulsing shades of red, They recoiled from the truth So I bled out and spoiled In open display, Draining To the rapid fire of gossip Distressed No one wrestled…
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To die in her constricting arms Is a fate I’d accept; Loosening my grip On this ill-fated rock To die Again and again At her command Would send death’s true nature Away from my mind At least For a while
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