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- Heroic Couplets - |
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Unscarred
Malaria, hysteria, abound, the trees debris are littered on the ground.
The Earth, it's worth is found inside their eyes, shakes - afternoon earthquakes - the lands demise.
Winds spear spreads fear among severe disease, they brave mass graves that lay beneath dead leaves.
Yet strong in tooth, so resolute with pride the will to still rebuild, their strength provides.
They forge along, in voodoo song and dance, and fight against the plight of circumstance.
Abused and bruised, reduced and left confused, but give in - Haitian sin - they will refuse.
We owe them loving life as though it's gold, I fear that we're the ones whose soul is sold. |
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Taken For Granted
We speak, are heard, our words in printed press, promote the vote majority elects.
Jobs that provide a safe place to reside, with closets to hide skeletons inside.
Up to date news, designer shoes and suits - clean clothes in rows from which we freely choose.
Ice clinks in drinks, good food that's hot and fast super stores, pictures that forever last.
The chance to find romance in daily life, where friends transcend into husband and wife.
I sighed, then cried, aside a shower warmed, the water wasting, tracing down my arm.
On every day in many ways, our sight is blind to find comfort is not a right. |
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- Décima - |
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Sharbat Gula
Oh, Afghan girl, with war worn eyes, reflecting cries of peaceful times, since lands' demise from selfish crimes became this broken scorned reprise. As years of lies force tears arise, the fears are her life-long refrain, viewed with disdain, so shame remains; the chains erase her family name. Enslaved again, her claim to fame - contained and framed, those eyes of pain. |
Photos by Steve McCurry, National Geographic Magazine,1985, 2002 |
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-Villanelle - |
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Storming Villain Hell (Co-written with Luke Prater)
Behold: I sight the rain of dark, in gaze - Poseidon's tide, it stead'ly teased the shores, and then stormed in, which seize through ruthless raze.
A siren of the sea, whose love decays, the tempest lashed the windows then the doors, behold, eye sight - the rain of darken gaze,
her fickle fiddle summons wind to bays. A mythic mistress; wrathful yet adores, and then stormed in Witch Seas, through ruthless raise,
unable to resist her violent phase, surrendering to Nature's strongest laws. Behold, aye, cite the rain of dark in gaze,
I long for sunlit days devoid of haze. The light shines bright as Helios implores, and then stormed in, which, sees through ruthless rays,
order restored, bestowing bless'ed ways. The storm no longer shook our timber floors. Behold! I cite the reign of dark, in gaze, and then stormed in, 'Which sees through ruthless rays?' |
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'Forthwith Upright He Rears from the Pool' , by Gustave Doré |
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-Double Helix - |
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snoitcelfer leurc .:. cruel reflections
Defined by the rage of mental prison:, conviction and caged, in spite of no crime, a mind obsessed with taking decision, driven insane by progression of time.
No court would consider those who have tried to abide by rules they change and distort, resorting to hiding further inside, having cried until starving lungs contort.
Head held low, eyes closed heavy with disgrace, face transparent behind a mask of dread, dead set on escaping the awful place, in haste ingnoring all dangers ahead.
Sailing to escape the confines of shore, sore from an eternity of wailing, scaling walls meant to forever secure, to cure a life that is filled with failing.
Trusting strange waters with waves of unknown, shown to be cold, the ice is encrusting, busting free from a rut well overgrown, alone and lonely, somehow adjusting.
Far from it all now, with no land in sight, delight in forgetting just who you are, a star or a snake, whatever your plight, the nightfall will hide that horrible scar.
One with the world; to no longer evade, shades are showing that can no longer shun, done running away, the pain slowly fades, and trades winter shadows for summer sun. |
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The Door Made Of Time
On a quest to find a well hidden door , for it's other side, we search without rest , dressed for the years of struggle to endure, to ensure we have lived as we deem best.
A life long journey, best taken in stride, defied conforming, resulting in strife, rife with oppression, the blind eye will guide, and hide from the pain of destiny's knife.
The toll we pay to live life is growing, going to extremes to fulfill our soul, consoled by those who claim to be knowing, showing the way in exchange for control.
Depression blinds the hunt for the right path, a bath of misfortune leads to question, the direction one heads, and will it hath, the wrath to cure prevailing obsession?
To pursue, disregarding reactions, distractions divert truth long overdue, through living we hope for satisfaction - the actions of memories one accrues.
Contrived to show whaty the world has in store, for those that have been able to survive, arrived at the end, knocking on the door, nevermore will living feel so alive. |
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~ Heroic Triplets ~ |
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‘Crying Statue’ by David Soanes |
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Solitary Confinement
I'm tarnished in a cage with rusted locks. The patina builds thick across the stocks, as time forgets the face of broken clocks.
With steely eyes and gated soul I wait, pretending fortune just might satiate, instead of luring me with casted bait.
The wrought restrictions wrap me and subdue, suppressing everything I thought I knew - I'm forged in fear and silent stasis too.
While seasons march to life's demanding beat, the leaves and limbs fall slow and hide my feet. I'm buried somewhere past my legs and knees.
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I know not how or when the end will come, nor if this hold will ever be undone - and so I stain 'neath years of moon and sun. |