The Slaughter

 The Slaughter

The bonfire lit and the dripping fat,

Whispers surrounding the roasting

spread.

The knife that cut the meat still wet,

And in profile the butcher filling his maw

It was a fine slaughter, was the refrain

It must be true, even the lambs nodded at that.

Words on Paper: Poems

At this moment,

I am bound,

Words represent the world,

Since time has paused, yet the universe.

Ivory Towers

When they become prisons, is unknown,
While some move in, most build one slowly on their own.
 Only falls seem to be the way down.
As they build them, more and more,
It will be difficult to find lower ground.

Growing Up

Growing up is hard to do,
No one has been you before.
They did not have your troubles,
Moments so specific to you.
If they did, they did not write about it,
It is not on any bookshelf you know.

Life itself is mostly unknown,
Those decisions and consequences,
Love requited, or was it much ado ?
As much as I wish,
I have no words of advice,
Just wish on you, better judgement,
Many times I wished I had.

Sacrifice

We all wait with anxious eyes,
As we do far too many times.
For love, fear or bravery,
What we selfishly could not,
Them to cover our behinds.

Wise, strong, compassionate, we are not
We made it, with heart wrenching saves,
I's survive, on others sacrificed time.

To the stars

I look to the stars
That I were, a fleet officer somewhere there
Liberated from the mundane, the maddening idiocracy
Exploring worlds and views, till no more
I could enclose and they flow over
Into words, dreams; fill this longing, I have forever felt.
That I learn to live without myself,
Endless learning and patience exist
Companions, champions, explorers at heart

Ego searches for space,
For the out grown fatal third step.

Eyes hold confusion and lies
About to break out, and bounds.

A good excuse
Grows weaker by use,

When worries pour out,
Crowns are poor floats.

Mistakes and Me

I dare that you,
Show up your mistakes like I,
For what fault of the mistake, the fault was mine.

If lay uncovered. Shall I not fall in ?
Hidden, trap one or another ?
Grow and throw, shadows on my light ?

Let me be cruel,
Bring it to your eyes, that they,
Find, wrestle and end its life, and even make you shine.

Emotions: Smile(I)

I often wonder, how through pain, smile.
I often do it wrong,
Instead it appears, while things are wrong, Joy shines on my face.

Truly not, I am not stoic, not like that.
I still have to learn how to smile,
Yet the pain show through.
The distance between happiness and pain
Appear, but seem condensed at the same point
The show of happiness soon falls apart.

Intangibles

As we walk further away from what we have been,
I know you believe, that everything we shared is gone.

But what you don't know, you cannot deny to me,
Precious; I will hide them safe in my heart.

Perhaps, it is just a moment, a few broken scenes,
A smile, a reflection, shadow on your face no one sees.

It could be your steps, on the beach,
Which, while having washed away by the sea, my memory can still reach.

It might have been your touch,
Your anger, feelings you tried to hide, so many such,

I will, hidden from you ... safe in my memories keep.

Kindness and the heart

Be generous my friend,
Let your kindness flow unimpeded.
But of your heart,
No act of kindness give it away,

For the one who can,
Is not you, but the one whom it belongs,
Its for her to steal, borrow, beg or break
And, even vanish without trace,

Let not kindness grant,
And what kindness can,
Are things that you own,
Our hearts are borrowed, it is a truth well known.

Spare kindness the stain,
Lest misguided, you destroy what you seek to build,
For it is not yours, what you wish to give away.

Denial

I love you, I cannot deny my love
That which, I can truthfully deny are
My pretenses of not being in love.
The continuance of my love, I cannot prevent
Only words I could , were saying,
" I love you ".
But even that, I say now,
I shall covet those moments that seen
or unseen by you, I captured of you.
But my sorrow will be for those in, which
I couldn't say those precious words to you,
I wait for your reply, but never expect one,
Yet I write this and hope it will come.

Their Past

Proud people, their past had told them,
There were such richness in it, its greatness had worlds lit,

Of the wretchedness of their lives, they blamed on others,
How could they or the past be responsible for any of it ?

Leaders of their past, became gods and saints,
Their deeds and thoughts, oh, mortals we, how could dare emulate ?

Such weakness they said, in the lives of today,
They taught their children; of the past so great.

Up braided them with traditions,
Searching, understanding the past, meant disrespect.

So enamored they were, they forgot their lives,
While the present became; what the few awake, made of it.

So much does their past seems, a spider web,
So beautiful, that the spider instead of the prey, became entranced with it.