Have you considered,
That when the skies turn blood red,
It's far, far too late?
So in the end,
The diagnosis is humanity,
I should have known from the start.
I like to think of myself as a nice guy,
Perhaps maybe that’s a lie,
But let me give you a piece of advice,
If you don’t like what I do or say,
Then let me rot, in obscurity away.
Poems are like magic,
Power wrought not just from my pen,
But from every word seen and spoken again,
Truth or not,
It’s meaningless if left to rot.
So don’t call me out for my faults,
Infamy spreads like fire.
When the skies turned red as blood, when the earth turned pail with fright, when the water froze in fear, and when the flame would not ignite.
When hope was thrown into the wind, and lost on the mist. At last four savors appeared the downtrodden, with power and meekness to spare.
They had no reason to save us, but that never concerned them, it seemed natural that they were our saviors, and we would be free at last.
They were truly bold when danger came, casting darkness aside, their fight never ending, their lives thrown aside.
They would do anything for us, and I don’t know why, it’s as though they could care less how there own lives end.
And after overcoming all the blocks to their path they finally found a way to save our world from destruction, cheering filled the streets, this day never to be forgotten.
But time slowly rusts promises away, and though those heroes keep on living to this very day. Not a soul can remember what they did for us, lost onto the darkness, and burned to gray dust.
And now that we have killed their memory, the ones that saved our lives, we simply disregard the fact that we threw it all away.
And now the wheel turns as time slowly passes on, and a new group searches for their saviors, to save them, from us.
In that room,
Is working hard,
Do you believe in light?
Or only in shadows?
Slipping through the cracks,
Of societies transgressions.
My only sin,
Was thinking I could win,
This never ending fight,
Against my own pain.
So I will play this game,
But I only play the fool,
For law is a loser’s game.
Justice is never served,
Only appeased until the next day.
When the cheery blossoms fell like rain, when time I could ignore.
I went to see a black wall with names lost in war.
I looked into that sandblasted wall and found to my surprise, that standing beyond its darkened veil, was a face with my eyes.
This monument of death, so simple, yet so complex, had something to say, though it fell upon many deaf ears.
It said “You must pay the price of freedom, yes indeed, but to pay the price in bodies with interest still due, you will never find your debt paid, a grater balance will always be due.”
But this wall held only regret no solution was inside, so I left this place to find it, I may succeed in time.
We say we will remember, the lessons the dead teach. But I think I see a shadow on the land, were the next monument of death will stand.
A single action,
A choice that we,
All must make no matter,
How hard the future seems we,
Must move forward and choose who we,
Want to be in the end and believe,
That it’s a choice worth making in the end.
If there is a time to be pedantic its now,
Meaning can’t be derived from half truths and feelings,
No matter how strong.
There is still a place for personal truths,
But those truths should never,
Pull the rug from under the health,
The wellbeing of others.
If your truths bring someone else to harm,
Then look in the mirror,
And on its edge ponder,
What personal truths bring harm to me?
For if you can’t look outward,
At least learn to empathize inward.
Some truths are to important to look away from.
Even as those same truths hurt,
It is pain well spent,
For the wellbeing of others.