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Every now and again Humility, wanes in the fog From behind my heroic stride Bravado floods every verse That I thoughtlessly belt As humility, slips farther and farther behind But every now and again And with gratefulness, I trail in the distance While modesty, leads through the haze
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We can be the jubilant noise once more The fire, that illuminates from the hills To a chasm of shadows We seethe the same way As dissidents past Weighed down By the clattering binds of their time We can be the chorus of man once more The toll that sweeps through young hearts With its…
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This morning, I was swept up in anger And I sailed through the world Screaming the whole way Toward the open arms of hate Today was spent trashing, Free of its embrace Battling in vain against the vise Of homegrown rage With no lessons learned With no bounties earned Today, was but a sinful waste
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In my own sliver of the universe There is ceaseless crumbling Senseless rumbling Left and right Where others, so peacefully reside There are wonders unknown To these starved And truth-seeking eyes I was born on this side of the rift No fault of my own Staggering, in the muck Of all that I know How…
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“But I hardly know her” Is that cowardly refrain that grows Like impassioned weeds And it begs me: “retreat” “But fear is all I’ve ever known” Is that tiresome way out To the cold and solitary night, Forevermore Forevermore, will hang to my form Through the eras that roll Into, the open grave of the…
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Scattered by a doubtful wind From a mother’s embrace, There’s the jumbled outpouring of myself I’m the crackle of fallen leaves For miles and miles Strewn and diminished by a frozen gust I litter every path With the same pained songs of dying I’m but noise On the heels of passersby
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Do I have the time To recline In this warm state of mind At this hour of world-wide panic and decline? Am I free to unwind As someone, divine Beneath swirling grape vines? Do I have the spare time? Or is my time, owed to mankind Mending, a once hopeless divide? Is this the time,…
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It was meant to be something like soaring Through the countrysides of Spain Through to Rome, by neon-light Too often, reveries reoccur Of the train-yards hustling, The rain -swept streets of the world, Of a cafe’s steam Calling out, to the shroud of a city There In that young frame of mind I am always…
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Originally posted on Raja's Insight: Poetry is the language we use to express ourselves. It has been a part of us throughout time. There is probably so much more to be discovered, sitting preserved under buried grounds. There have been many writings found that pre-date even the Bible, and historians continue to search for these…
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