Left to Rot

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.

I Once Though I Knew the Truth

As I wandered, lost in the raging tempest. Amid the swirling sea, not knowing were to go or how to do it less, obviously.

But I had not long to fear for soon came a gentle breeze amid the swirling storm. It did not push or pull but only hinted at the end of the storm.

Though I hesitated at first not sure what to do I soon found it wise to let the breeze guide me. It did not make things easer it only showed me the way as if maybe it know what I was going through or maybe it was only fulfilling it’s purpose, but it lead me through and now I can see the clear horizon.

But now I here you want to take the breeze away controlling the weather in some mysterious way.

Do you have the right, can you hear the song echoing do you know were it comes from?

I do as I have seen the light so I will tell you.

It comes from the moaning voices of the living dead rising from the grave; they did not make it through the storm so this is there fate!

It comes from the last sour note uttered by the snakes and lizards played by a band, of dead and moaning voice singing of sadness and dread.

It comes from those who through some fluke of nature can only express theme selves in a picture. Or from those who can only express theme selves on a field.

Or perhaps you are the source of the sound never escaping the storm trapped forever.

But let me tell you why you are wrong. You cannot control the wind you think you can but in the end you only suppress it and do you know what that does to a storm? I’ll tell it makes it bigger and soon to lash out with infinity scorn.

It will destroy you, and you will see in the end an all-consuming storm with fire and lightning breathing dragon’s overhead!

And then the storm will clear and all will see the white and blue horizon and you will know why you were wrong, obviously.

The Legacy of Heroes

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.

Meditation Poem 1: Anyways

Seeking new focus,

Trying to find,

A thing forgotten,

Or left behind?


Maybe I never found it,

I may have missed my chance,

To find something so important,

It could have changed my life.


So now I must find new focus,

Try to find a way,

To seek something just as important,

That can be used to replace,

Something so precious,

As to change my life.


But I guess I would go on living,

Anyways.