Myth or Hubris

Breaking only narrative, we persist
Dying to save the others, see them resist
What do we want, oh what do we hunger
For days pass, we're blinded and wonder
Do we get to ask the knowing in the end?
Or should we assume that we're nothing?
Every dream fulfilled but hallucinations
Is every life worth being made into myth
Hidden beneath shrouds, we are adrift
Until awakened, with a gentle kiss
Here we wait, standing until
We pass behind the mist

In the Remnant Life

We never understood our species, a mire of our killing ways
The sun seemed to fall from our sky, setting the world afire
Destroying our human civilization, our species barely alive
Yet, desire no longer drives us, we need to survive within
We were condemned to live upon a burnt planet's remains
No longer free of spirit, we were in bondage to pain, tired
Released and blinded by all the rust in our injured mind
Our species once obese in excess, now bones and skin
Little to wonder upon, no more joy to drive our species
In full despair, a planet covered by bones and artifacts
The memory of wars, of decay, of loss is our sole task
Waiting for death, on this planet death still lingers
We cannot escape, forever we are prisoners

Upon the Isle of the Blessed

Waking from my forever sleep, my eyes opened in dreams
I hadn't lost you and never felt loss from my endless bleed
The sun was golden and glowed, the wheat was full, ready
As winds were soft, the memory of your kiss led me to joy
The fields were alive in hope, creation had calls I'd follow
I lingered in your presence, my love was no longer hollow
To be there upon the hillside, never becoming tired, I laid
As the time came, as I was renewed, my soul given solace
My being was born to see this place, a morning awakened

In Public Life

I stood before the jury of my peers, to hear their words of judgment. All the
 liars chose to target my weakness, by forgetting their own. But they turned
to devour themselves in bitter frenzied assassinations. I was unworried. My
life had meaning, but many understood that the meaning was serve and die. 

My will did fade in my heart due to challenges of human anger and despair.
One way or other, my life was never meant for any others to live. I'm called 
to serve, after all, I am a soldier, the nail that the hammer struck down. Built 
for my battle, raised to serve and find my path. I stand firm and true. As my 
life had been redeemed by holy blood, I know.      
                                                                                        In Testamento Suo

A Legio 9th Hispana leader thinks on his loss

I was in the 9th Legio Hispana, crushed in a mire of Picts
Tried fleeing but slaughtered, on those fields of Caledonia
Few survived such as I, many missing from sound or sight
Days away from civilization left one with a profound loss
We knew we stood at the head of a flood, a great shame
Failure's bitter taste in mouths, please forget our names
Tides of battle turned against us, our empire has paid
As I think upon that day, I'm content in my passing
A death of intentions, a disaster, we could not sleep
For Elysium waits for me, and for my brothers, death
Our day is done, our spirit sings in a land of dream
Longing only to see our loved ones ... once again

The Moon Challenges the Darkness

In a reflection of the moon's attention, there is light
But the moon is alive in the night's sky, of darkness
While the moon sees human event from a distance
Stars offer light too but darkness stands with night
Staring upwards in fascination over all of existence
But even in the darkest night, the moon shines on

A Dying Warrior's Reflection

He died under a flag of truce, a peace event unfamiliar
After an entire life, spent in battle, leaning on strategy
A body failing, a mind tired, his will no longer willing
If the empire fell, it wouldn't be for the lack of his acts
Too old, in his mind, to raise a family, he was content
The world he experienced needed guidance, he gave it
If he didn't care about the future, he understood a past
He'd given all one could give and sought no reward
His life was spent rescuing a world, he had saved it
Renewal and restoration was for other generations

My Last Chance to get it Right

I was cast away, sent to live in a most distant star
By my need for a reward and desire to live again
Isolation led to sorrow, grieving the times missed
Every moment lived seemed to mock my history
From disastrous beginnings, I'd been saved but
I turned on my creator's will and desired destiny
Did I deserve to be in exile, did I earn in despair
The universe's architect had chosen my legacies
Failed my calling, stumbling in a moment's glare
It was my last chance, I failed again, a failure
I lived in grace and mercy of the greatest God
The end never reached with finality, only hope

“God creates out of nothing. Wonderful you say. Yes,
to be sure, but he does what is still more wonderful: 
he makes saints out of sinners.”   Soren Kierkegaard

The Choice of Meat or not Meat

That dead flesh we eat, if we are masters of nature
Becomes the slippery slope into false gods and purity
Choosing a slaughter, contradicting the high morality
By eating only vegetables one makes another choice
Sometimes self righteous, calling for condemnation 
Both sides find their morality, allowing a judgement 
Of another's choice to choose differently than you
Whatever you personally hold to be truth

Sad Memories of Love

You left me speechless, dreamless, hopeless and stained
Love from you was worthless, selfish, burning in pain
There is nothing inside me, I'm left emptied
The wounds you left will never be healed again 
I have nothing, I want nothing, just leave me, Please...

Time to Solve the Mystery

To the depths of space beckoned we were called to be more
With no forewarning, the last of the space vehicles left orbit
Those left on the surface without hope to escape the planet
Upon that planet, they'd been sent to discover all the ruins
Remnants of an alien life, artifacts of culture, and illusions
Finding people who had joy, purpose, love and fulfillment
Those left behind had wanted to record archives of the lost
There'd be time to figure it out, discover the deepest cause
There were reasons for loss, however many years distant
But there promised a world to know, to revel in and exalt

"an eternity it must have seemed to the others standing by - I was struck dumb with 
amazement, and when Lord Carnarvon, unable to stand the suspense any longer, 
inquired anxiously, 'Can you  see anything?' it was all I could do to get out the 
words 'Yes, wonderful things.” ― Howard Carter

Hidden Truths, Wallowing in Hubris

Scientists found the bones of enormous beasts
They could blow out fire with their breath, and fly
Other than exciting stories and legends, no one cared
They'd grown up told how they were the greatest
Of archives of past told stories of honor and battle
Through which they told themselves constantly
That the ancient generations had lied or spun tales
And now as they learned, they hadn't lied at all
Some took the news with grace, but most did not
To lose one's assumptions of greatness is not easy
Did it really mean they weren't greatest generation
The present world is stainless, flavorless, so clean
The present is empty, plastic, steel, artifice, ugly
A world built to function, automated, their slave
Losing sight of importance, ritual and memory
Culture exchanged for their comfort, fed hubris
They didn't know they'd lost hope, stalling
For now they had lost the idea of legacies
For now the ancestors had slayed dragons
And had shown the way forward, by example 
To this generation, one that hunts for pleasure
With no honor about it, killing to extinction
They would wipe themselves out, swiftly
They'd not know it, hubris caused blindness
Whoever read the archives of the present
Would surely see the ironies and jealousy
Unable to stop themselves from damnation
By arrogance and death by their own hand
While hubris is subtle, entropy is truly loud
They'd not know the difference between them
Seeing the bones wouldn't change a thing
And so now they wallow in the truth
Not to come up for air, ever

Uncanny

Exhausted and chased by predators
My flesh is what they want to steal
Many enemies, fewer allies to help
Their flesh a sort of our species, not
Looking blank imposters, inhuman
Entering into a unconscious shock
Our future species or in devolution
Will we feed upon our own young?
Are our dreams of a future done?
Are our species hopes finally gone?
How might we escape the future
We are children of a broken past
Will our generation be the last?

To Be A King

By his birth he was marked as special, welcomed
By life, marked as working class carpenter, skilled
Education unknown, his words suggested high IQ
By his hands he built and crafted wood, into forms
Then a leader, a rabbi, a teacher, a King of Heaven
God chose him, as a martyr, a sacrifice, the chance
To enter Heaven, we'd embrace forgiveness, hope
While his birthplace was humble, he was the King
No one would ever replace him, he was God's son
Born to perform a task, unlike anyone before him
He was our living sacrifice, his life was a lesson
In the end we have to decide, where will we go
His arrival was our notice, life has meaning
How we respond to it, will decide our fate

Our time together Haunts me

Your ghost remains the sole visitor here
And I wish it would stop, it hurts badly
Who am I to say who gets to haunt me?
Our tear stained goodbye and your loss
I'd nothing to say or do for my future
This place and time, dystopian world
Time after time, bitter tears have fallen
Curse and shame, from pain and blame
We'd not known that the time could end
But it did, in its place a sorrow instead

"Thus the lights went out, and in that moment civilization in
Fort Repose retreated a hundred years. So ended The Day.”
                                                                              Pat Frank

Shrouded in Pre-knowledge

Sans any foreknowledge he walked on his path seeing
He didn't know of his last moment, the final heartbeat
  He knew fighting for the time to live was not allowed
He appreciated a time to be alive had passed but that
Lasting longer than others of DNA he was a lucky one
He lived in knowledge of reaching far away terminus
Set forth upon a path in unknown places no one goes
His world was nuclear, a vision permanently unclear
To arrive in a future, the world yet stood still, so odd
Truth, he'd spent too much time thinking on his end
And then it'd arrived, quite mundane, banal, a bore
He spent so much time worrying, losing joy on earth
As a spirit flees a flesh, his vision filled with colors
Seeing the veiled realm just ahead, he was restored
He said he was different but now, he found worth
Given the material world's interest, seen as a fool
He'd no fear to guide him entering the unknown

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it 
must be lived forwards.”     Søren Kierkegaard 

Confessional

No one rightfully lives without a need to learn and without mistakes
I wasn't ready to learn how much I've lost due entirely to my hubris
Oh I'd acknowledged that I was terrible human, over a space of time
Found umbrage in any disagreement, my list of friends single digits
My own path filled with falls, thus I aimed upon how brave I'd been
Had I chosen to be grateful, my path wouldn't have been impossible
I'd required my life to be lived without accusations, with no debate
Not a life lived without accusations as is due to one lived perfectly
My life was lived with corrections due to flaws but indignantly 
I was owned by pride and my acts to remind me was an "attack"
I've dissected my past, my ego or self esteem, found my lack

The Solstice

That the season for most of Western Civilization to celebrate renewal and hope, is, ironically, during the northern half of the planet's heart of winter. We begin from there and every day grows in the amount of sunlight during each day. 

More and more, days get warmer, brighter, and transcends our human tendency towards entropy. How to keep hope alive is truly near, for we began in the midst of restorative rest, and are compelled towards warmth and light.

Be absorbed in glories of warmth to come, find your way to renew and begin again, in the cold of winter.

I need an answer

My time is now ended, time is done
Forever trying even as I was dying
There is nothing left for any to say
As you fall, no one will catch you
A body burned and I was shunned
A seer said I'd win, she was lying
This world demanded to be paid
I've nothing but knew it was true
I am lost, in the endless empty
As I pray that you find me
Waiting for an answer

A Clear Call

A beautiful moment, only Gods could not find awe
Upon humans wasted expression, too subtle for notice
This life that we are given, has potential for greatness
But we sleep upon the chance, and we inevitably fall
Perceive isolation as Hell, signal mixed, out of focus
Dreams of our own throne, beings of glory await us
In oblivion we are lost, still saved from torture's call
Our Lord is kind, seeking our love, atoms nameless
We are mistaken in fears we lost, we're offered love
We lose our path, fear of wrath, oh there's enough

“Much as oblivion is the death of sorrow
So death is life's forgetfulness" 
                              Mihai Eminescu

A hybrid Haiku, A matter of pain

I wonder, in pain
If I live, does hope remain
If not, why bother

Why must we endure
It seems like a penalty?
I am still broken

Do we all suffer?
Is suffering just for me?
It sure feels like it

The Wind's Voice Calls

From the north to south the valley held the horizon
The witness walked through the display of nature 
He'd heard his name called, wind had called him
The cold of outside faded, his mind was now afire
As he dreamed painted images, vista so beautiful
Upon this peak and ridge, the mountain spanned
In the dark, they seemed to illustrate an artwork
The shadows and moonlight shared nature's hand
They are stunning, singing of a sort of perfection
Nothing humans could accomplish could rival it
Wind spoke to him, in a tongue he did not know
He bowed before the power before walking again

 

By the uneven stripes upon our flesh, we learn

We struggle to survive in the world so loveless
The hope in our hearts was all that we had, but
By struggling inside and otherwise, we learned
Our beings being prepared to somehow endure
To stay above the surface, to not lose our place
Trying to breathe, as darkness pulled us below
Were we broken for someone's dark pleasure?
Did our scars teach us what we couldn't know
Experiencing trials, gives the context for hell
If we sacrifice, choosing life, or throw it away
I am too broken to choose more, so I stand up
Let me live, as I'm too far into the narrative 
To ever give up

In the Red Sky Days

If I ever told you, how I am made alive in your presence
You have known my trust in you, Holy One, I do repent
I've lived in deserts, alive only by grace of your holiness
With no place that I call my home, my many sins I own
I stare into the sky, and raise my hands, call your name
The horizons all burn red, as our days have grown few
I trust in you, you are my king, in a world untamed
But I have you, a King who saves and is true

“Remind yourself once more of the absolute
holiness of your task." Theodore Roethke

Love's power and mystique

The glory of love, when first in one's life
Allows belief, and it will inspire choices
In the first time and a forever time, found
The power of it will be felt, inside always
Allows us time, to know hope and to feel
Glories are found on our holiest ground
In the exquisite moment of love's reveal
Oh it reminds with power why we seek
But to repeatedly visit is to be hollow
Never again will it feel so very good
As a flame in one's spirit it guides

Before The Power of a Storm

Snow fog obliterated any way to find the path
A winter storm was the final nail in the coffin
I can't survive the cold nor exposure to winds
My digits are fat and have no feeling, frostbite
The cost of a once in a lifetime cold, is my flesh
As one's lack of winter clothing becomes death
In time the snow will cover my corpse, frozen
I will appear in winter as a marker and warning
Nature has an absolute final word over our lives
However you plan to endure, it remains greater

“If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?” Percy Bysshe Shelley

Inside a Cage, Looking Outward from the Inside

As a child I remember thinking, the year 2000 would never come
Watching news with grandpa, all the wars, hatred, assassinations
The world changed in less than a blink, not seeing an oblivion
I sat with Grandpa in a wild world, and was trapped in a cage
Inside generations, believing in the more enlightened futures
I thought I'd die before a millennia turned, before adulthood
Because I am a person, my miserable being couldn't change
I'd thought, honestly, my being was worthless or overladen
I was now in a world, amidst of the turning tides, untamed
I'd been powerless and worthless, I was the victim of rage
If I had survived, what had been the point of my being?
How could I unlearn my reactions? Of being awakened
The lifetime of being broken has left stains as I linger
In the aftermath I couldn't hope, after being hopeless
All I could do is try, not planning to succeed and not
If success was even possible for someone like me 

The chase endures

The eyes and the heart, viewed from within
Her ability to scream, her invitation to sin
I am lost in her wake, I am alive to the pain
She called out my name, as if only to blame
I fell at her feet, exhausted, I entered belief
Haze in my mind, never realized my crime
The next morning began, awake I declined
I had to end the chase, I had to live again
As this world's lost to me, life a mystery
I pray not to fail while I pray not to fall
I pray to be ready, I pray to be whole

Goodbye my Friend

She'd been hollowed out, her need unfulfilled
With a look in her eyes, she could never disguise
A life since college woven from silk, and pretty lies
She rode the horse, waited patiently for another ride
Dying before she got a chance, I swear that I tried
In the cold basement where un-housed people met
Doing things safely, doing them well not impossible
Half of the people there would die before the spring
Other half left hoping, on Afghan magic to save them
That kind of thinking isn't real, they needed a hit
My friend stared into eyes of judgement, smiling
Over quickly, she refused help, leapt from a bridge
Only her mother and I went to a memorial service
We'd both cried, thinking it was a hard way to live
A harder way to die, we hoped for peace within
Before she left, before she made us forever hurt
The pain inside and outside, impossible to fix

A poem with bad rhythm, just like my heart

In morning
Here in my office
I hear a blizzard wind 
Constantly blowing
Very hard to be outside
I'm in a world of pain
But I'm hidden away
Pain everywhere
Even on my inside
I chose this life
Nobody else to blame
I dream of the day
Of love and warmth
Instead of blame
As days go by so fast
I know my heart won't last
Broken and wondering
What's the point?
Does it even matter
With that faint hope
A heart thundering 
My dreams all scattered
Time to take a pause
Stop worrying
What I am is old
I've had enough pain
Lord I pray
Let me leave with the day
Dreams of an old man fade
And I close my eyes
Nothing left inside
And I fade
In twilight
The dusk
Takes me
Home

The Deep Divide

The world is a library and information archive but we are overdue
Our collective has become divided, between scholars and workers
A path forward needs to be known or we'll be useless and wrong
Choosing to be uninformed is to damn, or being filled with hubris
Our civilization as a whole sees advancement as being dangerous
It challenges both aspects of outlook of mind labor or hand labor
As it will lead us to being even more divided, even more ignorant
If we are born unequal, we must not be unjust or arrogant fools
Life has hope, it isn't promised to anyone but can be found
We must remember, all have worth however measured

“Without work men are utterly undone.” Nevil Shute

The Glory of Hope

She moved slowly as invaders approached, but she couldn't see
The knight who'd carried a light in his heart for her, tried to help
She felt his hand and knew instantly who it was, and softly said
You're so kind, compassion echoes in everything I hear you say
Upon reaching the stairs leading to her quarters, she whispered
You must stay safe, if you should die a part of my heart will too
She gave him a courage to fight, for an invader seeks valuables
He'd just made certain, that she'd be protected from everything
She thanked him, he told her, for you my prayers are doubled
Then he went off to join the coming battle and fight valiantly

Maelstrom

Inside the storm is a beast, wicked, vile, powerful
Attacking the least of us, it has no ethics or rules
 Wild beast of our greatest fears, hungering for us
If only the innocent might slay the guilty, in truth
Beneath crucifixion trees, as the storm destroys
We're left to wonder, what we did to deserve taboo
If we escape our death, we find the door to solitude
The storm lives, to kill us and return to its brood
If we survive, we live another day, in doom
One we can never escape, in our minds

Messengers

Called into existence, by a visionary, led by ambition
As a world outside of our planet is laden with dreams
As new frontiers are yet to be found but they do exist
Heralded dreamers are being sent into the skies above
A past project for glory and propaganda, now survival

"From out there on the moon, international politics looks so petty.
You want to grab a politician by the scruff of the neck and drag 
him a quarter of a million miles out and say, “Look at that, 
                                               you son of a bitch".

Former Astronaut, Moonwalker, Edgar Mitchell

Never to Escape the Pull of Things

If in one moment, every plan will fail as your house of cards collapse
You might cry or scream as you sit there looking at a smoldering ruins
If we do matter, we'll still die leaving this material life for the unknown
Property is worthless, in the end, we'll be gone, but every minute is real
But so many fear, they fret, that they will not collect enough, gold coins
Never finding holy ground, never escaping the orbit of metal and stones
Tossing away eternity, for the lure of false needs that will never be met
Try to enjoy what you have, live without wanting what you can't have
For you can neither escape death nor take with you anything but spirit

“For after all, the best thing one can 
do when it is raining is let it rain.” 
                       
                       Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

When you are sensitive and you confuse others

I never took a moment to think from the eyewitness of the other
Took every jab as an insult, every act to avoid me, permanence
Yet when I viewed burned remains of my life, I've wondered
Why would someone who hates me give all that he was able
Why should he cry at the sins of his hands, if innocent
I burned, for my  opportunities lost to redeem a father
My indignant response, screams to a voice, insults
Never sent me away for words I felt a need to say
I wish I could embrace him now but I can't 
I am paralyzed as my future looms
For my life of flesh and blood 
Soon withers with my doom
Life is meant for all, I have lost my chance
No matter my ignorance or innocence
I lingered in hubris but I was wrong
Without salvation or redemption
I see it now, very clearly
I feel it to depths and beyond
Looking back with hope 
Mingled with regret

Survivor

I'd crawled from wreckage, bleeding, burned
Bombs struck the completely innocent homes
The birth ward was wiped out and rest of beds
Burned or broken, on fire or smoking or dead
As invaders had struck the vulnerable and poor
For those wealthy can build bunkers for safety
But the vulnerable rarely had basements, hope
The war was caused by envy, greed, and hate
Hunger and of the greater striking the lesser
Now we know, there's a short path to peace
By the death of all those who are helpless
And apathy in the ones who could help

Consigned to a ward at the abandoned Mental Hospital

I've wandered abandoned halls of medical facilities
A practice followed since confinement for proclivities
My feet drag, with no scuff marks on the floor, shuffle
With memories of life outside this place, in the muzzle
They'd left me without a word, hiding all machinations
Months of the mental silence and emotional starvation
I learned the cost of being me, as I faded into the gray
The incurred debt so great they ignored, I am betrayed
As I stare out from this room, down the halls, so cold
No more seeing the residents, children looked so old
Cloaked in an anti-suicide jacket, staring at the wall
Loud speakers speak, overnight staff has been called
No one shows, buildings are empty, rooms are dark
Last graffiti on the dry erase board, a message stark
There are no staff, this building is closed, get out
As I softly smile here I remain, and I've no doubt
So bring me my Thorazine, I'll rest for the night 
Please make sure my restraints aren't too tight
As the mid sleep charlie horses have a kick
Drive home safely, see you again Monday
Bring me a Sunday newspaper, please?

“In a mad world, only the mad are sane.” Akira Kurosawa

The Great Dragon Spoke

As I wait for the time, I've made up my mind
Worlds will bow before me, but can't restore me
Wealthy and never worked, I will go berserk
Submit to me, or your land will be memories
They already are... if only to me
And come back again into my home
Call my name and attack my own
Cry for your lives to be saved
Bow upon your knees to pray
For I stand upon a line above the world below
A line you'll never see, I am upon my throne
A difference between humans and dragons
I can live forever, you only have time
I can be patient or wipe you clean
From this world that bows before me
I will rule this sacred place
Because I rule your mind
You can never defeat me
To attempt such is suicide

The Vultures await my awakening

The tears of life have a sound, different than all others
With no beginning nor a finality, they have no mother
Their cost is sanity, every one remembered now gone
Their purpose unknown, all I know has become wrong
I wait upon soaring vultures above, circling dead flesh
They've waited for my death, heat stealing my breath
Instead I know that they will wait longer, as I stir
Crawling to the edge of existence, ending time
The end bears no resemblance to fate
Vultures hunger and I offer
I am the sacrifice
Upon an altar