tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83581002092309520592024-03-26T00:00:32.100-05:00THE POETRY OF ALEX NESSalex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comBlogger5352125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-81342618355291403642024-03-26T00:00:00.001-05:002024-03-26T00:00:00.171-05:00To live again<p style="text-align: center;">My heart has died many times<br />My spirit fled my flesh again<br />And then yet still again<br />But I see others suffering more<br />And I realize my privilege<br />To see another horizon<br />In my core I long to be truly alive<br />But my fears hold me down<br />Pinning me to the ground<br />I have to find a way to rise anew<br />With a spirit ready to flourish<br />But the pain and exhaustion<br />Make it my prison cell<br />A pathway to my hell<br />So I will stand and finally fight<br />To have a chance to find joy<br />I will work to make things right<br />And rescue from the deep<br />And return them to the shallow<br />All who wallow in the currents<br />The rising ocean tide<br />And the beating of our hearts<br />To the losing race against time<br />For we all die in the end, but how few live?<br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">“The world is always dying and always coming back to life. <br />Tide and
pulse, and with the turn of the tide a touch of mystery.” <br /> Henry Miller</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmyw7T4j20MB-vgTZfRplHZh1hKVv755gMJn_xNkWmM8gD8yE-Xyi8pmG1mdBJU_l8SxcXylqm4rlkhG2GAwRMgkFEeTOUe5VbBNxhhVAaRU7lbY9H43Qa3w8OWBeMSzWj-5RIw06a6OIiM6-MG14fkRpzbaf2oFDWHkhqPd_GZf02rN3E7V19Z0V4Y86E/s1258/polar-lights-5858656_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="943" data-original-width="1258" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmyw7T4j20MB-vgTZfRplHZh1hKVv755gMJn_xNkWmM8gD8yE-Xyi8pmG1mdBJU_l8SxcXylqm4rlkhG2GAwRMgkFEeTOUe5VbBNxhhVAaRU7lbY9H43Qa3w8OWBeMSzWj-5RIw06a6OIiM6-MG14fkRpzbaf2oFDWHkhqPd_GZf02rN3E7V19Z0V4Y86E/w640-h480/polar-lights-5858656_1920.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-74425058037738331852024-03-25T00:00:00.004-05:002024-03-25T00:00:00.139-05:00A new plan, it is called hope<p style="text-align: center;">I believe we are a people that need to relearn to be one race<br />We need to embrace the bright and dull, genius and the less<br />Because the moment we separate into tiny clans and tribes<br />We forget our species hinged on 2000 or less breeding pairs<br />Look at others as family, learn and remember to embrace<br />Our past is ugly with hate, envy, and violence, just confess<br />There isn't a formula, we are new at finding reasons to vibe <br />Because once we overcome our errors wounds can repair<br />Love one another, be kind, and think of others as family<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYF_TfMgjSR2BIK2p3UVTH0cUIhIKoST2TKxggIpCdgviKyG9VtMuOjUXNEwMTBzdu4q4M6ct5cbUwltnkiONIlmmnAJ6q0A6mXtIr7WhfNb1nuARc-5m6pu73HDT5HN_hyeH26gmkhDaAuUnnVuLKYtrD2tj9eTX0jianqSEWjpuKYehu3Avkv1Di5qZ/s1280/freedom-4782870_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYF_TfMgjSR2BIK2p3UVTH0cUIhIKoST2TKxggIpCdgviKyG9VtMuOjUXNEwMTBzdu4q4M6ct5cbUwltnkiONIlmmnAJ6q0A6mXtIr7WhfNb1nuARc-5m6pu73HDT5HN_hyeH26gmkhDaAuUnnVuLKYtrD2tj9eTX0jianqSEWjpuKYehu3Avkv1Di5qZ/s320/freedom-4782870_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-27667437698589285872024-03-24T00:00:00.007-05:002024-03-24T01:34:56.673-05:00Humanity's Evil Enemy<p style="text-align: center;">Some cancers are widowmakers, killing you in weeks after diagnosis<br />Other kinds linger, back time after time, like an unwelcome bully<br />But unlike bullies, cancer has no regrets, it has an anger ferocious <br />So that whatever good you do, whoever will miss your flesh's being<br />It celebrates, not knowing, surrounding family grow strength seeing<br />The fight encourages, strengthens the fight of others, now believing<br />All suffer, some more, some less, but cancer is a villain and cruel<br />To fight it, is an act of vigilance and heroic grace<br />If you suffer, or have fought cancer, you have my awe<br />Cancer has tried twice here, also took beloved friends<br />If you have fought or fight, you are a vet of a holy war<br />You are in my highest esteem, and I pray you mend<br />May you be blessed, and given hope<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTcRqebfkhPYa_z0bJOAjMg9UKw4TPT6_gmLCfZbNDOVxOYy33NnuhKrYdQAdPDXfoGFXLDLieSnfFG_8kOmDAmnyF0YNmxHRhB20Sutnjkk1i6RiFeZj7X5hrIuhQMy-8hN4NslhZx6nVorqUPxK93pA9WAVNGaO4MlBLAQrVbW_7Z07uwL8_-ZagNH9k/s1280/ai-generated-8270048_1280.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1280" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTcRqebfkhPYa_z0bJOAjMg9UKw4TPT6_gmLCfZbNDOVxOYy33NnuhKrYdQAdPDXfoGFXLDLieSnfFG_8kOmDAmnyF0YNmxHRhB20Sutnjkk1i6RiFeZj7X5hrIuhQMy-8hN4NslhZx6nVorqUPxK93pA9WAVNGaO4MlBLAQrVbW_7Z07uwL8_-ZagNH9k/s320/ai-generated-8270048_1280.png" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">(AI created image)<br /></p>alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-25071984194881746922024-03-23T00:00:00.115-05:002024-03-23T00:00:00.132-05:00We Hunger<p style="text-align: center;">I do not fear the future<br />I fear for those who must live in it<br />What is there for any future generation <br />Upon a planet of emotional starvation<br />We find a purpose within immorality<br />And celebrate all lost goals and dreams<br />Demanding the utter betrayal of hope<br />In the end, we will enter a cycle of despair<br />Where there are no reasons to strive<br />Only to hunger<br /> For vengeance or even for food<br />To be bitter <br />With anger and even more envy<br />We live in a world that says one love<br />We don't even spell the word with compassion<br />In a world of starvation and poverty<br />There are people obese from greed<br />We can't find hope in a world of beauty <br />We feel alienated by the natural glory<br />We defile the planet of resources<br />From water to permanent chemicals<br />From clear cut forests, emptied of trees<br />Why do we insist upon destroying our home<br />We've nowhere else to flee to, or harvest<br />The universe is not at all like Earth<br /> All roads do not lead to Rome<br />Those cosmic streets littered<br />With our spent wages of death<br />We cannot impose our will upon space<br />What is there for us to do<br />If we can't see the path ahead<br />In the murk of our littered past<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNF2lv5L-tHN313Y2rP6feiRqDNnAVwcXAWJ1pfpAUwGFBfZK88k9cYoeBS5PptYKFBJPbaXVNU0JrfK2P0vmUb_C2DHLFVtlfEs7XewyiByNGX7QXlNWOQLbjOFupY5BxhNNOd-pJTatGVC9RdO3pmVi-Qv3XiTJLXoaYcmOZuMftgXdkT0mrdMcuUU29/s640/astronaut-7672980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="640" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNF2lv5L-tHN313Y2rP6feiRqDNnAVwcXAWJ1pfpAUwGFBfZK88k9cYoeBS5PptYKFBJPbaXVNU0JrfK2P0vmUb_C2DHLFVtlfEs7XewyiByNGX7QXlNWOQLbjOFupY5BxhNNOd-pJTatGVC9RdO3pmVi-Qv3XiTJLXoaYcmOZuMftgXdkT0mrdMcuUU29/s320/astronaut-7672980.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-79314998093988527792024-03-22T00:00:00.004-05:002024-03-22T00:00:00.131-05:00Until that Day<div style="text-align: center;">I've always wondered why this world works as it does<br />Why do violence and lurid details outweigh pure love<br />Who'd desire to be defiled, or wish to not have enough<br />If it is perfect why do we suffer, on the day of the dove<br />Is it there are no answers, at least none that make sense<br />Are we meant to suffer, so life beyond will make sense<br />Or am I just stupid, a fool, enslaved to dreams so cruel<br />What is wrong with wanting hope, what is wanting joy<br />Is it that we're meant to fail, why must this fear prevail<br />Unless there's a reason, unless we need it to understand<br />I refuse to trust in darkness, here I'll hold my ground<br />And suffer until it arrives, the joyous day of the dove<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDuNGHZG7Sj_LJdCsrJfNfMLB60UCh6S9qIY0gcInfwjhEgbrdroO1534vRWa6mQKn5ZuUm3-gv_x_xMvyTToCJqQMMMfCK4-gxrHH8dsf10yXP3wK3dVzGPmxHuK4iH404MCNt1yLVkE22SBJcxmharRlQ09hrlScszWq5cLex8eK1LPz3j62pgji7U8/s1024/L'Homme-Dieu_(1903)_-_Jean_Delville.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="1024" height="612" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDuNGHZG7Sj_LJdCsrJfNfMLB60UCh6S9qIY0gcInfwjhEgbrdroO1534vRWa6mQKn5ZuUm3-gv_x_xMvyTToCJqQMMMfCK4-gxrHH8dsf10yXP3wK3dVzGPmxHuK4iH404MCNt1yLVkE22SBJcxmharRlQ09hrlScszWq5cLex8eK1LPz3j62pgji7U8/w640-h612/L'Homme-Dieu_(1903)_-_Jean_Delville.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-19644573772469544372024-03-21T00:00:00.000-05:002024-03-21T00:07:49.679-05:00Mom<p style="text-align: center;">I miss you so much, I cry at the sound of your name<br />I remember all I should have done, burning in shame<br />You were every moment my mind, spent in thought<br />You're always with me, rather than alone in silent rot<br />At the sound of your voice, the warmth of your laugh<br />I keep your memory alive, as the epitome of class<br />You made me experience life, whether I liked it or not<br />You showed me the way home, to the holy son of God<br />Now all alone, missing you like missing air to breathe<br />But you gave me life, and taught me to believe<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3n3-VThu5sNRjUUtsNci2QV2pWxS1luIB-Sg42TiVf7jTSpDDs_U1ICCb_rDF-VmHNwi7fLTJIEb3cLOd7VGLzAUU1upvosIG_OFct_o3IQQDKGHh_vjgMWhqexYEkuFhSjKm-i-yFznQVG6LCj1rCUIUSoxguLUjR1lHqSVUy1Bgk2nMQb6uAO_OwmX/s416/428709701_939763840862960_7297057387747891415_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="232" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3n3-VThu5sNRjUUtsNci2QV2pWxS1luIB-Sg42TiVf7jTSpDDs_U1ICCb_rDF-VmHNwi7fLTJIEb3cLOd7VGLzAUU1upvosIG_OFct_o3IQQDKGHh_vjgMWhqexYEkuFhSjKm-i-yFznQVG6LCj1rCUIUSoxguLUjR1lHqSVUy1Bgk2nMQb6uAO_OwmX/w111-h200/428709701_939763840862960_7297057387747891415_n.jpg" width="111" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-17561756751345732332024-03-20T00:00:00.001-05:002024-03-20T00:00:00.131-05:00DANCING<p style="text-align: center;">A woman who had taught me to survive, was stubborn and loving<br />She fought off two terminal diagnoses, when cancer had no cure<br />I had cancer, twice, and nearly died from a broken neck and more<br />But unlike her, I stared blankly, as death came, rushing, rushing<br />I had to learn to endure, to be willing to survive down to my core<br />And I found that in her example, so in memory and celebration<br />I will dance, without fear, with no shyness, in final exultation<br />For you found me my little lady, stubborn, determined mother<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLZZavZvM8murd0js1JsMg-HKIWFgSnyGIDyxCXG836e05Do2DDPHcDf1b314Q1eDCjTgdhpIvzgcCgZ3AFZt1DaXIrcpuLmrc8NJevTPNfY3TYKi1dSa2G2iQyLeAuhnpLgx8NKqqs6UTVXf2VGlTp2DaxWwyULxrMuicQLT-dsVs36IgI4mBgGCkgsv/s1280/sunset-5466866_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLZZavZvM8murd0js1JsMg-HKIWFgSnyGIDyxCXG836e05Do2DDPHcDf1b314Q1eDCjTgdhpIvzgcCgZ3AFZt1DaXIrcpuLmrc8NJevTPNfY3TYKi1dSa2G2iQyLeAuhnpLgx8NKqqs6UTVXf2VGlTp2DaxWwyULxrMuicQLT-dsVs36IgI4mBgGCkgsv/s320/sunset-5466866_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-89758104366459528372024-03-19T00:00:00.000-05:002024-03-19T00:00:00.136-05:00The Youth Suffer<p style="text-align: center;">From my youth I remember everything<br />The popping, guns sounds and screams<br />The bullets firing and hitting the ground<br />We recognized the violence around us<br />With every dead kid there is no justice<br />The modern world filled with a silence<br />As the innocent die there becomes quiet<br />Blood covers a playground and school<br />In years society forgets, but never repents<br />The world won't know what happened<br />Only something cold and deeply cruel<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhGn-83K-omE8nW_4h_pSPR7F8pMjAONXMdY7HlpLwcIoIWIykwioYRmM6VzSv_HpBMH7VqwYjlDoEZU8uLD40hRT4FiMg-PsQBS8fHjxObLYBe_pnQXNBmXNaI3YRJPEonifpE3zQCQZe2tBMBWJJ8z7Xo77pbCkv-HQj6y1Of5Jn3r5Od04RQ1D-zv5/s1280/swing-1350654_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhGn-83K-omE8nW_4h_pSPR7F8pMjAONXMdY7HlpLwcIoIWIykwioYRmM6VzSv_HpBMH7VqwYjlDoEZU8uLD40hRT4FiMg-PsQBS8fHjxObLYBe_pnQXNBmXNaI3YRJPEonifpE3zQCQZe2tBMBWJJ8z7Xo77pbCkv-HQj6y1Of5Jn3r5Od04RQ1D-zv5/s320/swing-1350654_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-46828702440702367902024-03-18T00:00:00.043-05:002024-03-18T00:00:00.140-05:00Too many things<p style="text-align: center;">I've so many things to do, so much to make right<br />So many breaths to take, before I fall to the night<br />The outside calls my name as I stop there and wait<br />As a world screams my name while filled with hate<br />I will become calm, wait for the dawn and breathe<br />Nothing more to do, nor more to say, but believe<br />I have nothing to offer, so I pray for grace<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-yfcd9LrKc9IrR-HW7lJEshyphenhyphens56BTjwgIOPsBVCCqYh6y-nJekvXrMDT15z__udCyybJOYIGTfYvevFFbRJX9CNmUQdJdda2JL1Pgunhm-ijG2Vpj0YMoo6XDfXgmRllmtaOr7sofINjJv06HGahkZ0eAHF1sSvEvRmDOKG_R_I7ujJh8ldsjoUC5GdgD/s474/OIP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="326" data-original-width="474" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-yfcd9LrKc9IrR-HW7lJEshyphenhyphens56BTjwgIOPsBVCCqYh6y-nJekvXrMDT15z__udCyybJOYIGTfYvevFFbRJX9CNmUQdJdda2JL1Pgunhm-ijG2Vpj0YMoo6XDfXgmRllmtaOr7sofINjJv06HGahkZ0eAHF1sSvEvRmDOKG_R_I7ujJh8ldsjoUC5GdgD/w200-h138/OIP.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-562529615921152832024-03-17T00:00:00.000-05:002024-03-17T00:00:00.135-05:00Desert Planet<p style="text-align: center;">There's a silence now here but at one time was sound<br />With the many voices of life, activities, and events<br />But this quiet isn't one of solitude or inward thoughts<br />The planet no longer supports life, none of any kind<br />It used to have intelligent life, witness the monuments<br />What is now exposed rock, was once a sacred ground<br />The bleak terrain holds secrets washed away by time<br />And the winds sweeping across the surface, relentless<br />Dust storms are ongoing, but barely make any sound<br />Lost are the millennia, civilizations that lived and died<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgusn8o6Gn2iAOVB3PwC2wrJYnageR2TfAF2QG9DLNoGhbdfUukyAkHxZsM1m-55fHfSuX0jmeOMU17KAbt1Q01BrnJlirnd2ubjOAbv9eks605p6IG0IPmHgXI2EQFefMJD3rOF57cd2lwOKeSrwRNHHlP4Nxw2PfmCEDGztDE78eZnHxsHg0gSJQDzkGe/s3393/dunes-7752745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1534" data-original-width="3393" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgusn8o6Gn2iAOVB3PwC2wrJYnageR2TfAF2QG9DLNoGhbdfUukyAkHxZsM1m-55fHfSuX0jmeOMU17KAbt1Q01BrnJlirnd2ubjOAbv9eks605p6IG0IPmHgXI2EQFefMJD3rOF57cd2lwOKeSrwRNHHlP4Nxw2PfmCEDGztDE78eZnHxsHg0gSJQDzkGe/s320/dunes-7752745.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-35594092418290133122024-03-16T00:00:00.139-05:002024-03-16T00:00:00.136-05:00The Way of Peace, The Way of War<p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmhGtOXPRyFUGSh8Hc0r8MbA8aKv8dLrbdm1BA35FgVPaflsDnHfRmboeWElgFy-LU3WmxqTgUFbcqp2jzeZFAF8-4LINUSPgauvla0Af72cOW3Vo9n7tZKtlVhj9WG1cr1BhTWDN193nzrYnSgBDJQd8VX4BTYEa4DjCYV0yNtBhUEmKGcyiIbnfaAhA/s492/Japanese%20Photographer%20-%20Samurai%20of%20Old%20Japan%20armed%20with%20full%20body%20armour%20c1880%20(hand%20-%20(MeisterDrucke-332531).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="350" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmhGtOXPRyFUGSh8Hc0r8MbA8aKv8dLrbdm1BA35FgVPaflsDnHfRmboeWElgFy-LU3WmxqTgUFbcqp2jzeZFAF8-4LINUSPgauvla0Af72cOW3Vo9n7tZKtlVhj9WG1cr1BhTWDN193nzrYnSgBDJQd8VX4BTYEa4DjCYV0yNtBhUEmKGcyiIbnfaAhA/s320/Japanese%20Photographer%20-%20Samurai%20of%20Old%20Japan%20armed%20with%20full%20body%20armour%20c1880%20(hand%20-%20(MeisterDrucke-332531).jpg" width="228" /></a></div>Over years preparing for the rest of my life <br />Learning calligraphy, haiku, ink paintings<br />Practicing sword craft, focus of my blade<br />As days go by swiftly pass without strife<br />On my heart is branded, without pain<br />The branded lessons become engravings<br />Thus the mindful warrior controls rage<br />Our world offers chaos, I desire order<br />To exist I create conditions to thrive<br />I train my mind, practice for a reason<br />And whatever I face, I will be ready<br />My mind makes my sword sharper<br />And practice sharpens my mind<br />Training and calm, peace and war<br />I'm prepared for whatever beckons<br />To serve my Emperor, to be worthy<br />My sword, bone, flesh and blood<br /> Will be given fully, for his service<br /><br /><br /><p></p>alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-62473941455668521782024-03-15T00:00:00.000-05:002024-03-15T00:00:00.252-05:00Days of Darkness<p style="text-align: center;">The sky had turned black despite it being the day<br />Three days of darkness begun, start of our decay<br />We should have been aware, long before the time<br />But we lingered in pleasure, fantasies of the mind<br />The sun was missing and we'd forgotten the truth<br />Had we tried, we'd heard approaching horse hooves<br />War, Famine, Plague, and Death were on their way<br />We were more concerned with sex, bread, and circus<br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">iam pridem, ex quo suffragia nulli / <br />vendimus, effudit curas; nam qui
dabat olim / <br />imperium, fasces, legiones, omnia, nunc se /<br /> continet atque
duas tantum res anxius optat, /<br /> <i>panem et circenses</i>. <br /> Juvenal</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CoMv7zNTm9QaAoc5z_l87_oxP7Ff8uWueijMBUInNR8mmZTbYZimB_2TJ_xhcgmccOLeTdHcVoxI3bgTZfMGQzdvMViv88oYMNURSmHziMQg7OucuQZ-WcrWLl8umiokajrtGxHpX0jxaHEhmecJEH-mT84GKDTTTJwfyVyXzsfCyFqi5rFiSWaqhj3J/s854/Lavater_Aphorisms_on_Man_Earlier_state_of_plate_-_Blake_after_Fuseli_Juvenal_Satire_XI.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CoMv7zNTm9QaAoc5z_l87_oxP7Ff8uWueijMBUInNR8mmZTbYZimB_2TJ_xhcgmccOLeTdHcVoxI3bgTZfMGQzdvMViv88oYMNURSmHziMQg7OucuQZ-WcrWLl8umiokajrtGxHpX0jxaHEhmecJEH-mT84GKDTTTJwfyVyXzsfCyFqi5rFiSWaqhj3J/s320/Lavater_Aphorisms_on_Man_Earlier_state_of_plate_-_Blake_after_Fuseli_Juvenal_Satire_XI.png" width="202" /></a></b></div><b><br /></b><p></p>alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-28211702046632623362024-03-14T00:00:00.000-05:002024-03-14T00:00:00.154-05:00Winter Raid<p style="text-align: center;">Into the darkness, into the frozen black<br />Our ships long ago been drawn ashore<br />We'd marched for days in deep Winter<br />Before we'd unleash our surprise attack<br />During a quiet dawn, unaware sleepers<br />Now the foes approached nevermore<br />Moved swiftly, blowing horns of victory <br />We then showed the enemy no mercy <br />For they had long practice acts of terror<br />As our people called for vengeance<br />Responded with axes, arrows, swords<br />With no thought to pillage and looting<br />Intentions were to prevent further acts<br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">"If through storms I need to protect my boat at sea, I calm <br />the wind on the wave and put all the sea to sleep.” Hávamál</span></b><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3JWVOD8zsnxLkovWoQ00L_npxJc1v7zgImb34JT7qUp4VYQJFjK2LMy9vZihbObWKbSMRIGZwgt8lg89Hc-B_sFnpaJDERzLWE68KDAgIcsg_rNfAHs-SR9iaOkKRItVVRETQ7xiBTDaebM6aQhnKpgCsEBrpZnmpEjw26yfvaaX5KK_R8E0OVxpdijWU/s880/vik.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="880" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3JWVOD8zsnxLkovWoQ00L_npxJc1v7zgImb34JT7qUp4VYQJFjK2LMy9vZihbObWKbSMRIGZwgt8lg89Hc-B_sFnpaJDERzLWE68KDAgIcsg_rNfAHs-SR9iaOkKRItVVRETQ7xiBTDaebM6aQhnKpgCsEBrpZnmpEjw26yfvaaX5KK_R8E0OVxpdijWU/w400-h266/vik.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-91489362390455932212024-03-13T00:00:00.000-05:002024-03-13T00:00:00.135-05:00The Angel of Death?<p style="text-align: center;">This world has been in existence for billions of years<br />Arrival of a new species or noted appearance of one <br />Wasn't an unusual thing, specifically great or notable<br />But the human species, in many forms, changed that<br />By evolution or creation, mistake or miracle of time<br />These humans could speak, coordinate behavior, act<br />The rest of nature hadn't yet shown the same ability<br />But are humans a blessing or a curse to this planet?<br />Have we destroyed it, as we scoured it for resources<br />I've wondered why we exist, and yet, does it matter<br />Because if we are a curse, we should then wonder<br />Why were we the chosen as agents of destruction<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDu6izyTO4XFdZpBOiRsYLcumgLTdyjG7CVy9-7yq5QfzipE262xXG4WqcIaLaMQtEIDm-3CUtuf6qlE8M013nQeWbdcZBYPyssGgluJXOwnlvRM8S3gFA42yIAx1pxQTCs5zfLBUOftFWAdIpzo2odOLMBWx96JT43v6Bv-Fyv94lwWi2VfLAfmcqJEpB/s896/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="896" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDu6izyTO4XFdZpBOiRsYLcumgLTdyjG7CVy9-7yq5QfzipE262xXG4WqcIaLaMQtEIDm-3CUtuf6qlE8M013nQeWbdcZBYPyssGgluJXOwnlvRM8S3gFA42yIAx1pxQTCs5zfLBUOftFWAdIpzo2odOLMBWx96JT43v6Bv-Fyv94lwWi2VfLAfmcqJEpB/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-53393640666522033232024-03-12T00:00:00.000-05:002024-03-12T00:00:00.133-05:00The Promise of the Morning<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;">a bleeding inside that no one saw<br /></span><span style="color: black;">the screaming silent worst dream<br /></span><span style="color: black;">my flesh decays, I'm made of flaw<br /></span><span style="color: black;">I've no memory, for I never sleep<br />
I'll will stand one day, stare in awe
<br />for in the new morning, fear flees <br />And hope comes with every dawn<br />to stop bleeding, I need to believe<br />every single day begins with trust<br />the night will always fall to day<br />fulfillment of the promise<br />of forgiveness to receive<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8A2BTQy-oHfVUG8L6hdL9mqQUXGCvaY5OsvPd2PqnvtR5x26_PCPIU2LYhh9yIxg_OUwW6KdeCc_vPCpZ74iW9svDC0ltRSWPbgjC3ILOMjwoWYpzsQTwm3BCIyFrXNu3nBkk3sb0k7zkpluDc0ai3dE3HHh6_bhUMDOBij4JjusI6YAUcgF-josdvzb/s640/sun-1617470_640.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="279" data-original-width="640" height="88" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8A2BTQy-oHfVUG8L6hdL9mqQUXGCvaY5OsvPd2PqnvtR5x26_PCPIU2LYhh9yIxg_OUwW6KdeCc_vPCpZ74iW9svDC0ltRSWPbgjC3ILOMjwoWYpzsQTwm3BCIyFrXNu3nBkk3sb0k7zkpluDc0ai3dE3HHh6_bhUMDOBij4JjusI6YAUcgF-josdvzb/w200-h88/sun-1617470_640.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p></p>alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-13523485570745379222024-03-11T00:00:00.005-05:002024-03-11T00:00:00.140-05:00I will survive the final storm<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;">It is different to do a thing than to know about doing<br />And it is a different thing entirely, than to long to be<br />In my life I want to live by my righteous actions<br />But there is only one way to learn, it is by asking<br />The task before us all, is to understand our purpose<br />Our future is burning now, it should concern us<br />As we live in a world of cynicism and apathy<br />We suffer from a lack of any hope or empathy<br />Death of my flesh offers me no fear, or entropy<br /> So I will endure<br />A heart of honor, my spirit is my fire and breath <br />I will rise up, live to find a way that is finally pure<br />For I am ready to die, I do not fear death<br />For in spirit I will live and find my life<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDQgxSkwetgIq6Cm9RTn7mOU0hqgjp9QE8pTm5HaDwFnkkhn_UI7clW3SdHMZ4pBLJ2FQZe5BZn5WpI_uEivrCB5SfALA7vcXiGx5___P-r0dN6P5TVdcXLF4RaDw7aE9RhnFJ2ARaLUxXywtlYq2c_a3W80UhDtg6EcRIU33T1NQYF94D3Uus0g_sSC9/s2511/nature-3159410.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2511" data-original-width="1441" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDQgxSkwetgIq6Cm9RTn7mOU0hqgjp9QE8pTm5HaDwFnkkhn_UI7clW3SdHMZ4pBLJ2FQZe5BZn5WpI_uEivrCB5SfALA7vcXiGx5___P-r0dN6P5TVdcXLF4RaDw7aE9RhnFJ2ARaLUxXywtlYq2c_a3W80UhDtg6EcRIU33T1NQYF94D3Uus0g_sSC9/w368-h640/nature-3159410.jpg" width="368" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-6356321832112197232024-03-10T00:00:00.000-06:002024-03-10T00:00:00.246-06:00The Cycle<p style="text-align: center;">In this cynical age, where innocence is seen as false<br />A form of cyclical rage, expressed for the failed cause<br />We are alive, but we aren't living, we watch spectacle<br />All voyeurs, well unforgiven, it's time to be skeptical<br />Modernity chokes upon the decay, there is no escape<br />As our existence fades, as our life we now just chase<br />The hope that we can do more than simply just exist<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbldcwHq_4N5gitqSqmwXLXJpzLVyhdYSdMz9WGWO8x3J_Gm-mfB8npC8LSm_dX7Xo9tyMHunoZIivAXcoTdVvBnHcTykeE4RKgSYvEyma0XF02c1VNJ8kP2a46zzZm6FaanUzbADNOVGIxSmeDSrIdiPg8TMx6B9xhvH3pXA3uGueQKSQlSHHT8XSaust/s640/total-lunar-eclipse-1113799_640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="289" data-original-width="640" height="91" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbldcwHq_4N5gitqSqmwXLXJpzLVyhdYSdMz9WGWO8x3J_Gm-mfB8npC8LSm_dX7Xo9tyMHunoZIivAXcoTdVvBnHcTykeE4RKgSYvEyma0XF02c1VNJ8kP2a46zzZm6FaanUzbADNOVGIxSmeDSrIdiPg8TMx6B9xhvH3pXA3uGueQKSQlSHHT8XSaust/w200-h91/total-lunar-eclipse-1113799_640.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-68908169651809592312024-03-09T00:00:00.004-06:002024-03-09T00:00:00.441-06:00Entropy Is Forever<p style="text-align: center;">The end had come but missed my presence<br />I was swallowed up soon by the entropy<br /> As I now stare into the endless darkness<br />There is so little worth this time leprosy<br />Waiting to die without a hope to survive<br />I crawl and scream but still, I am alive<br />The world to be restored but I'm a ghost<br />Forever meant to be host of a new world<br />One where I wasn't meant to experience joy<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8UECHEMKpLLDrl2R2_Tg9dIVkJvVjExPWJB7a7gQvFPDdmgHtjWadbUceP7hT2KFWEJ7DvIUxCfLwFn7e4YOpfgEjPp37U5tySo1SVDYO40lUHjA169FIBEMEMURcNRbguV-Li6vPf-GLv1ZaxGkPArpSrv-G6mZfqvAcnKalpNEYl44DSWqCYY-aYdKt/s1280/dirty-2042284_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8UECHEMKpLLDrl2R2_Tg9dIVkJvVjExPWJB7a7gQvFPDdmgHtjWadbUceP7hT2KFWEJ7DvIUxCfLwFn7e4YOpfgEjPp37U5tySo1SVDYO40lUHjA169FIBEMEMURcNRbguV-Li6vPf-GLv1ZaxGkPArpSrv-G6mZfqvAcnKalpNEYl44DSWqCYY-aYdKt/s320/dirty-2042284_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-70519839819897459962024-03-08T00:00:00.000-06:002024-03-08T00:00:00.135-06:00An untold Viking story<div style="text-align: center;">We had moved across the Northern passage<br />Long centuries before Europeans could see<br />We discovered a lush, fertile green continent <br />Long before Columbus had come to ravage<br />But we chose to go back to our Greenland<br />Although it was less fertile, we'd felt safe<br />And then with the downturn in temperatures<br />Colonies died, never adapted to other ways<br />Despite the indigenous surviving we did not<br /> We refused to do what they did, foolish pride<br /> It was never about racism, but a belief, hubris<br />We'd tamed Iceland and our home in Europe<br />As the world called us the Scourge of the sea<br />We were called the Vikings, but raid no more<br />Tamed by the Europeans, defeated elsewhere<br />We were no longer feared, but were admired<br />For what we discovered, accomplished<br />And had carved from history<br />A legacy<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hxOlsIKwMrBTvg3u-KVvXT3tKW68n0U63_xl2gZ-_NDv6TeE54NgSH7VD_EFy1Z6Mdw_Q5kQUGNy1MKW-WqB8esNnnnGJg8UtlYMzY6PNlnKqWR8TJkGVlJPNaIlNLpE6moxEErspcE-fPV194xs7-WI-7r87WHQe83TyDTpoqpy6CHRkZUCGIXoeEt8/s1280/viking-settlement-7131297_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hxOlsIKwMrBTvg3u-KVvXT3tKW68n0U63_xl2gZ-_NDv6TeE54NgSH7VD_EFy1Z6Mdw_Q5kQUGNy1MKW-WqB8esNnnnGJg8UtlYMzY6PNlnKqWR8TJkGVlJPNaIlNLpE6moxEErspcE-fPV194xs7-WI-7r87WHQe83TyDTpoqpy6CHRkZUCGIXoeEt8/s320/viking-settlement-7131297_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-54566919020983141452024-03-07T00:00:00.001-06:002024-03-07T00:00:00.142-06:00No One Knows<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkt7M9koTItnJOHvSm2ukz9UxPETu0fC0cd2-RQ7VVY-SVnll8mlvkAWNCdBDNyycDbfB6GCebR8jm6-EySekvE6egrxvIPb5otQ_ExcrUQasd_9ugwjntt6W9V_dbhDUsx4Ao1onhIpf3pcReEjhfCM5xQsTwD2LFYutmpHHAcab_-DKv-qIWL6r-0nbz/s550/armageddon-1852_u-l-q1nn3th0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="550" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkt7M9koTItnJOHvSm2ukz9UxPETu0fC0cd2-RQ7VVY-SVnll8mlvkAWNCdBDNyycDbfB6GCebR8jm6-EySekvE6egrxvIPb5otQ_ExcrUQasd_9ugwjntt6W9V_dbhDUsx4Ao1onhIpf3pcReEjhfCM5xQsTwD2LFYutmpHHAcab_-DKv-qIWL6r-0nbz/s320/armageddon-1852_u-l-q1nn3th0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Armageddon by Joseph Paul Pettitt, 1852</i></b><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">At first they focused upon 2012, it seemed to bode ill<br />Then they said a exo planet called Nibiru would strike<br />Then Isis, an Islamic End Times militia had appeared<br />As if to become a catalyst for the last days of humans<br />Yet the time, place, date and any events are unknown<br />Only the creator knows, just when plans were begun<br />And presently, when his plans will be made complete<br />We wonder how such things could happen, but instead<br />We should prepare for emergency, even if not the end<br />For centuries people read prophets, like Nostradamus<br />Or Left Behind, followed people who said they knew<br />No one knows the date of return, of the end, terminus<br />But no one knows a thing, other than to say, it is bad<br />So instead of worry, prepare, instead of panic, trust<br />For those who fear and panic, miss out upon the good<br />They lose sight of the life we have, for the one ahead<br />It is as if these people just can't wait to be dead<br />When there is a life going on all around them<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXyA3_KJCeeMSrsqZThQHvB-ooc40m01wKy2fbdcbWFCo3Dfg1eEK5agTdDt1RNqUdsYLVKIwwxs-KlPO4E_wNQd_YOmk8Y-vljp4L404yF4i-a8GLetpKAdkhYBS8HQ5rTsQmgZEMsqI4Mt5U0pKohe2sG0YBJUZMuojbt9Jagp816DTgxicstAmtrsLk/s1651/V838_Mon_HST.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1651" data-original-width="1651" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXyA3_KJCeeMSrsqZThQHvB-ooc40m01wKy2fbdcbWFCo3Dfg1eEK5agTdDt1RNqUdsYLVKIwwxs-KlPO4E_wNQd_YOmk8Y-vljp4L404yF4i-a8GLetpKAdkhYBS8HQ5rTsQmgZEMsqI4Mt5U0pKohe2sG0YBJUZMuojbt9Jagp816DTgxicstAmtrsLk/w200-h200/V838_Mon_HST.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Nibiru, exo-planet, public domain image</span></b><br /></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-75376225897962857952024-03-06T00:00:00.000-06:002024-03-06T00:00:00.160-06:00Meaningless Seconds <p style="text-align: center;">Time is a construct of our mind to contextualize existence<br />It doesn't exist, it isn't tangible, our minds use it as a tool<br />To live or die and place into order the events of one's life<br />The sands of time are felt as a child is born or an elder lost<br />With nothing inside our mind like a clock, no resistance <br />To a concept that we gain wisdom, in ways good or cruel<br />On occasion we rise or fall, hopelessly seeking the divine<br />All without one great clock hanging in the hall of eternity<br />Ticking forever, without end, each second making its case<br />Eternity is ambrosia but as flesh beings we can never taste<br />The fruits of the land of Elysium, or the Garden of Eden<br />They are out of reach, far beyond our mind's reflection<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOXbr0Is1jV9hs-4neVZI2pOZFZhVWhBqZEm47BCVC3InZpeqdQao73smmqpyttQFZjAxMA79bNcK7lpZDiU5ZUBGFje3OLHTzwjl-hn5swXOY9NecUZciRjModUkqinA7F_EHRADPNWlx0z06etBBwZYgC5_mfd9IEj6tc06Ky7IdoLRcLbwtIEFMs3T/s1280/clock-33989_1280.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOXbr0Is1jV9hs-4neVZI2pOZFZhVWhBqZEm47BCVC3InZpeqdQao73smmqpyttQFZjAxMA79bNcK7lpZDiU5ZUBGFje3OLHTzwjl-hn5swXOY9NecUZciRjModUkqinA7F_EHRADPNWlx0z06etBBwZYgC5_mfd9IEj6tc06Ky7IdoLRcLbwtIEFMs3T/w200-h200/clock-33989_1280.webp" width="200" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-25881091697617248802024-03-05T00:00:00.001-06:002024-03-05T00:00:00.129-06:00The Dragon Prows<p style="text-align: center;">The winter sea ice was thick, deeply cold and moved slow<br />Only a tidal wave or a whale swimming through the floe <br />Forge a path through to open water from a frozen surface<br />But our ships are dragons, powerful, swift, with purpose<br />Storied beasts and leviathans of the seas cannot stop them<br />For we own the surface, from the depths to each horizon<br />Our way is truth, we fear no other men, only ocean's cold<br />Lands for our people, fulfill our prophecies once foretold<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjko5Eu0T5pxxCVtmpuocSniY_Anqs_cbpvjKxLzkpYxU_B1EHsgEzDwTKKnzseCfn_CNrPtVknOnWqyvEl5O_gzQ1nPTTtKP07NhiviEVgmwFlgCFE1Ajd3UnVCkFf8oEj68qdKBINI_tAJ6U9dRnd2vVSG1k6AVBrboOQcM7t7hv66f3amr8y00jhiIyr/s474/OIP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="474" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjko5Eu0T5pxxCVtmpuocSniY_Anqs_cbpvjKxLzkpYxU_B1EHsgEzDwTKKnzseCfn_CNrPtVknOnWqyvEl5O_gzQ1nPTTtKP07NhiviEVgmwFlgCFE1Ajd3UnVCkFf8oEj68qdKBINI_tAJ6U9dRnd2vVSG1k6AVBrboOQcM7t7hv66f3amr8y00jhiIyr/s320/OIP.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-62532665064814698342024-03-04T00:00:00.002-06:002024-03-04T00:00:00.141-06:00Haunting Thoughts<p style="text-align: center;">My heart bleeds for all of the innocent<br />As they have all suffered for the world<br />Wounds never heal, they live in regret<br />As the world watches, guilt that burns<br />We never ask them for any permission<br />And we take from them all they have<br />Due to them, I've become an apparition<br />I am a ghost inside, I now only haunt<br />For the life they lost, few would want<br />All they know but deserve much more<br />They are wounded at their core<br />The world we've made<br />Has no survivors<br />But some suffer more<br />Than the rest<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEGgggCj2VVzNz-yrLgHqTLyOTb-ahiNS17XJ9IM8YgEB82WrGYLGQqWX9kfjDxGqX6sMszuSK5vF_ehJj5A7FrcEXFztwQEfQ8XFDbYUAd_6dKbBBbyxlCnoQ8N9IrN7P8SJhVU0OfV1qPloNHR_6czH5NZamMx8TUccwHY3lXJHDpGBkfj6IIlGVpU6/s1280/children-2876359_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEGgggCj2VVzNz-yrLgHqTLyOTb-ahiNS17XJ9IM8YgEB82WrGYLGQqWX9kfjDxGqX6sMszuSK5vF_ehJj5A7FrcEXFztwQEfQ8XFDbYUAd_6dKbBBbyxlCnoQ8N9IrN7P8SJhVU0OfV1qPloNHR_6czH5NZamMx8TUccwHY3lXJHDpGBkfj6IIlGVpU6/w200-h133/children-2876359_1280.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-41255108346806825252024-03-03T00:00:00.001-06:002024-03-03T00:00:00.241-06:00In a Realm of Dream<p></p><div style="text-align: center;">There in the realm of sleep, of nightmare, of dream</div><div style="text-align: center;">The land of the Mung so very different than our own</div><div style="text-align: center;">The dead are kept busy, feeding the beasts and fires</div><div style="text-align: center;">They are unbothered by things, like fear or even time</div><div style="text-align: center;">The flesh has fallen off, their hands, skull and feet</div><div style="text-align: center;">It is difficult to know their being, they keep on being</div><div style="text-align: center;">Beware when visiting Mung, frightful and dangerous</div><div style="text-align: center;">Everything has its place, even nightmares and dreams<br />I am unaware how to get there, except by sleep <br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCiohgQbusknazHqesnmChUieDffDGjtMeFOxCAdBgegJNj58JAlgpg8fIF-Xj0H6IMPfxRHI4-a33GkcLN8o-9ZHiLf66LeTTDPdhGvIquc7Ax5EP_q_koUaJC5EkFb_Qjfu4NmDxgB5B5edx9WLM_KLVCcve0RZb1DKaMofoD7uCsa_6XbH5wnP2fJzj/s1329/Mung_and_the_Beast_of_Mung.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1329" data-original-width="979" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCiohgQbusknazHqesnmChUieDffDGjtMeFOxCAdBgegJNj58JAlgpg8fIF-Xj0H6IMPfxRHI4-a33GkcLN8o-9ZHiLf66LeTTDPdhGvIquc7Ax5EP_q_koUaJC5EkFb_Qjfu4NmDxgB5B5edx9WLM_KLVCcve0RZb1DKaMofoD7uCsa_6XbH5wnP2fJzj/s320/Mung_and_the_Beast_of_Mung.png" width="236" /></a></div><br /><p></p>alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8358100209230952059.post-20793919399044594782024-03-02T00:00:00.000-06:002024-03-02T00:00:00.134-06:00Orphaned<div style="text-align: center;">They sent my father to the mines, to dig coal, to serve a sentence<br />We were told he'd spoken wrongly about the Czar, and punished<br />Sent to Siberia, to suffer, to work until he was no longer able<br />And then would no longer live, nor ever come back<br />Mother and Babushka tried to raise us, but they got sick<br />We were told that they had TB, and quickly died<br />No one bothered to check upon us, we were just orphans<br />Never understood why some eat well, but we were worthless <br />And the worthless bury their own parents, hoping to beg scraps<br />We knew winter took no pleas for mercy, and was coming soon<br />So we chose to face it with no hope, and pray for some miracles<br />Accepting our fate, whatever it might become<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiisiAEloJtixkO3aT8lPj7mZ29tGBz59A4PdTd16y67e4t_UToOImuwZ2cT4v_mKbjpFBFdtiT5eSEAXF0ttCGgdSqFk65L8ShcXwSnNCerq0iYslWgI_ZVyvHlvx-_7AnW0lgYEmA7YvNuf4KFjGbxtbQppOnKghAaKyN1SSVCKzrQbXyQcKySc1TpbA8/s2516/Nikolay_Kasatkin_-_Orphaned_(1891).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1508" data-original-width="2516" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiisiAEloJtixkO3aT8lPj7mZ29tGBz59A4PdTd16y67e4t_UToOImuwZ2cT4v_mKbjpFBFdtiT5eSEAXF0ttCGgdSqFk65L8ShcXwSnNCerq0iYslWgI_ZVyvHlvx-_7AnW0lgYEmA7YvNuf4KFjGbxtbQppOnKghAaKyN1SSVCKzrQbXyQcKySc1TpbA8/w640-h384/Nikolay_Kasatkin_-_Orphaned_(1891).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />alex-nesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17870388649464548377noreply@blogger.com