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Sinful, yet sweet validation It has bored a hole through my skull And has drowned out, integrity’s screams There’s the rush The high arc of a dream That nudges me along As the cheers, of love and devotion All dim into silence There’s the kind rise of the wind Then the fall For the cold…
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Today, I’m like a hare Floundering, at the mouth of a river As the snarls of death close in
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Surely only I In this sultry time of year Can weep and howl and mourn For days on end “The morning light falls In its ghostly rays Through the morbid haze Of my daily wanderings Wants and woes” This Is that time of the year When I strive against age All to lunge for the…
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I have too little to behold To belove In the rosy snares Of this nursery of words I’ve paced this life away Through the same still-lifes Through inferno, through beauty Through the maze of nostalgia Now I have only fear For the waiting downfall From the thundering alps of emotion Into apathy’s, sweltering marsh
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These days Words are few As downtrodden eyes Jail their truth To live aloud Is the highest of crimes In the worldly shroud That quenches the youth
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I’ve been left below in these serpentine tunnels To scrap, with the ruthless foe I’ve made in myself I’ve been left, to burn with envy For the heroes and heroines in paradise above
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Originally posted on Raja's Insight: The Resurrected Night Dream’s imagination, place of grace, luminous prism of delight, where invisible spirits shadow over ecstasy when blazing bright. Innocence corrupts experience, searching two real eyes our fate’s flight Changes with presents of destiny remains still and beams Eternal Light. With illusion in our possession, in the mirror…
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Here lie the signs of the times In mason jars Buried below, The bay of bloodhounds Here lie The last shreds of faith in mankind The banknotes of the earth All snarled together Here lie the remains, of a post-war soiree When the good times raged And rolled off the cliffs Falling for the grave…
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My mother’s calling Sullen, she reflects Upon her child’s cries Far, and fading fast Steady I arise As warfare, roves and lies She’s shouting over the guns “Have mercy, my son” “Have mercy, my son”
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Their exhausts are like a thousand white crosses Taking off into the fray On the ever-maddening wisps of mankind They dissipate so swift So faint and so soft All to offload the fires of hell On our greatest of foes But they’ll return in earnest On the wings of revenge As a shrill battle cry…
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