Days Death

ChainsawPenguin

image

Into the sunshine
Enjoying the passing of time.
Nothing giving,
Taking nothing.
A six days times killing.
I do not wait for it to end,
I do not wait it to begin.
A passing of time savored,
My tired form labored.
But not.
One more moment caught.
Before the day is lost.
A final breath,
And sleep before the days death.

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Seasons Passing

ChainsawPenguin

image

Beneath the rolling of the clouds,
The sun declining smiles, gives me frown.
The wind, to no wall would bow,
Not even to the cedar, reddish-brown.
Awakening to dance with their friend, the breeze,
On the tips of their branches, the red ceases hold.
I in its midst, observe all of these,
Sigh to witness summer yield to autumns cold.
With one more Summer past,
Now I wait for winter.
Knowing it too, shall not last,
Its snow melting with springs cinder.

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Aftermath

ChainsawPenguin

image

The sweet lies he tells himself
Before descent into that hell.
“It’s not so bad, it wont hurt.”
Though doesn’t believe it when his turn,
Arrives and he must face the flames.
He must sacrifice all without promise of fame.
And for a time he endured,
And for a time he succeeded.
His goal of victory, took some time to achive it.
Now at the end with his hair of white,
He sits and questions, “Was I in Gods delight?”
Though he knew the answer when he crossed the border.
No soldier can say “I was just following orders.”,
When called on to answer for actions immoral.
There he sat and he mused, there he sat and he thought,
“I’ll make right all my wrongs whatever the cost.
Then on the day when I stand to be judged,
I won’t be afraid, I’ll be proud of what I’ve done.”

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Silliness.

Americana Injustica

Silly, silly me,
to once again,
redundantly…
peel back,
broken skin,
to let it bleed…
the point,
as it had been,
is lost on me…

Silly, silly you,
to have,
misconstrued…
such a concisely,
spoken clearly,
cemented truth…
damn you,
to next see,
the full moon…

Yet – sillier still,
was the bend,
of so much will…
and even right now,
it’s twisted somehow,
my stomach’s ill…
over such an end,
in betrayal again,
a void I cannot fill…

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Dead Meat

Mocking Bird Down

bull

In rage,
I imagine the suffocation of
a bull, in clear plastic. Layers, and
layers of clear plastic.
It can fight. It can call.
But it’s strength will be it’s death.
It will die.
It’s how I feel, and the image I rewind
and pause like an old movie, when I feel this way.
Pounding heart.
Chest heaving, mutant like.
Gnarly grumbled warnings,
more for the winds that
try to calm me, than for anyone
or anything else.
Burning with each emotion,
each flash of fluorescent shame
jabbing at my me. Relentless.
Guilt. Remorse. Loathing that
only more loathing can swallow.
Gulps of tortured panic.
My shame is that I don’t know
how to mix kindness with strength.
My strength is my Achilles heel.
My words, and the quietly lethal
potency that lie behind
the various faces I own,
I don’t get to wear on my sleeve;
that venomous…

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Falling Water

ChainsawPenguin

image

Alas, I am not one so fortunate as to spend my day in rain.
Luxury it would be there to discover any gain.
Oh, but I am one who’s deprived of such many, rainy things,
And must wait for what beyond the dark and cold clouds then bring.
Daily closer to my goal: one to love and one to hold,
I shan’t shiver in the cold, ‘cross this wide, expansive shoal.
The hour then arrives and the water from sky to cease.
From behind the rain: sunlight; your face quickens my heart to beat.
No longer longing for the rain, for the dark, and for the grey,
But to hear the words “I love you” from you to me, every day.
My wish is then granted, every bright or cloudy day,
A home with you I’ve found for my heart and soul to stay.
Falling water running freely from the…

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A Longing For Dreams

ChainsawPenguin

image

Then, in closing his eyes he seemed to say,
Without drawing in a cold evenings breath,
Another of many, so ends this day.
He watches as the dusk signals its death.
He’s off to dreaming, now he’s off to sleep.
In finding his sleep, he has lost his dream.
With nothing left but to follow his feet,
He goes searching for that last one deep.
The indifferent journey down this path.  Black.
The night being too long to continue,
And needing the rest he so gravely lacks.
Preparing to leave this dreamy venue,
The one regret he’ll have the next day,  this:
One more nights sleep without a dream filled bliss.

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