1/31/12

Two Days

Marching down into the dawn of red,
Spies running ahead to uncover the nests.

The colors of the nation hanging by the rope

Would eight hundred suffice to resist the test?


Soon enough the vulture's eye

would be stabbed with a sword and ripped from within.

But whose vulture will be throttled first?

The common man or the relentless king?

An uprising not too late in time

rising from an exploited mime,

Where the shovel is silent and the daggers scream,

The time had come to recover the dreams.


The dogs start howling at the very sight

frantic in anticipation of the impending fight.
The children all crouch hiding in the dark,

Sheltering their lives to be torn apart.


The last gaze of the moon falters and hides.
The stars whimper away with the night.


As the ground shakes with sheer strength of force,

As the men keep shouting themselves hoarse.

As the sun blinks its weary eye,

As the jackals shriek and cower in fright.

As the fires burn in raging silence,

As the swords glint with a hint of violence.
As the hope clashes with the fearsome past,

As the fist rises in a struggling mass.


The next two days will determine their fate

Stories untold will lay to waste.

History will only unfold the face

of the sunshine that might arrive just too late.

1/22/12

Through the window

Cry because you want to
smile because you care

there are no restrains
binding you down
except ones you care to make.

It's all pandemonium

never resting still in one place.
It's always a vagabond want

that seems to be chasing us away.

the sky changes colour
sometimes
but forever stays right up there

the roads below them go on for miles

without winds to brush their dust away.


Faith breaks down losing sight of hope

The lights glow dim as we ponder
thinking has led us to solutions wise

and the same has led to thunder.

we reside in our own memories
fighting battles that are always our own
on the outside we keep fighting for each other overlooking what is already known.

with each day we are surer still
of what we can do from our window sill

but with each passing day we step further away
further away from our window sill.


we've grown old watching fellowmen pass
and we've lost count of days gone by so fast

we've learnt much from our journeys through the window
now we've started stepping back to places that we know.

Flitting

It's getting dark outside The winter cold almost upon us, I know you are thinking about me as I am about you. We are cut from the sa...