All roads will lead to home where
the heart rests away from cloudy
days of black & white. Had I ever known
so beautiful this fate, I'd have been a man
with a smile all along, but evidence
is to the contrary, where I am unsatisfied
until I see that beating heart with my own eyes.
I have a rendezvous with my fate,
ill or proper, here in reality where my
plans to the details are pointless in
the long running marathon, of which I
grow weary at so early a year in my time.
I content with the present even past the
two faced mask of joy and cynicism,
as the fear of my future binds that mask to me.
Like machines we go in motion, by second by second.
Unto the will of the constant conflicts of fate...
fate, I laugh, is that fickle thing
that scares the Hell out of me at the
edge of my seat, as only faith keeps me watching.
Pray tell, I've never known the future past
means of hypothesis and seasoned guessing games.
A home where my heart forever rests is
that one blessing for which I ever pray.
MilestoneMilestone2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'll toss a few hooks over and into my back,
before I yank this fish out of water
to lean over a table of acacia wood.
There lies a contract and script,
in where my lines are only blank for a time to come,
but drenching its pages in a
multicolored frenzy of times that came and went.
I yank the ropes that grasp those hooks
in the forward motion for a closer
look onto that table and parchment,
seeing the macroscopic fine print that
never had my eyes seen ever before.
It had been written in the dead language
of atoms out of time, telling the story still in the works.
I was a rough draft and a final copy.
The jack of my many trades seeking to
brighten the ink of my contract and script.
My pulse was the pen to paper,
my thoughts the letters of every word.
Beside myself stood myself out of mind and body.
The spirit as it were, laughing at me.
The shaded reflection of black and white,
lost in infinite moments of time with clocks
etched within the eyes,
ticking far out of control.
His hand to
Unworthy This, Unworthy ThatUnworthy This, Unworthy That1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Forgive me in the times of each day
when I come to see my truer colors.
The less suitable ones that bring down a godly smile.
My efforts to betterment have yet to cease,
and I've nob intent on making such an appointment.
They wait like thieves and murderers,
mere inches from my soul, in wake and slumber,
outnumbering me and breathing down my aching
neck whilst I struggle to breathe
the purer air I am deprived of.
Though cognizant of my sins,
they are doubtlessly committed by a guilty
consciousness which has been undermined with a
pride that bear in deep shame as opposed
to a better way to walk.
The list will be long, as you,
as with all things, are more the perfectly aware.
I am the guilty by my own confession,
and grace is a concept that is greatly welcome
and unconditionally existent in the presence of my unworthy soul.
I know not why i write what is already known to Omnipotence
perhaps a confessional to my one and only
King who spared me the eternity of fire and ice
in a realm witho
Such a Truth that was Never ToldSuch a Truth that was Never Told2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Such is true, yet nothing new,
That all debates should cease with compromise.
A halt has come, to the blind & dumb,
That even the sons believe their father's lies.
Truth never to be found, by the dead blood hound,
That the hunter without food, dies.
That founding father rolls in his grave, as patriots misbehave,
Dancing in the excrement that each of them buys.
Was never there a history to be told? A perfect perception to be told?
There was it warped, in none but a fools eyes....
Never again does memory remain, only to change unto disdain.
Fate walks among us, in tears and disguise.
Told were only lies by our Hermes, myths and false stories.
The cycle only carries on in repetitive disguise.
The Challenge of Little DevilsThe Challenge of Little Devils1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the dead and dark of night, in the time
where I recall my love for dimmed light and shadow,
I have only to fear what lurks there with me.
Awareness is but the first layer past the eye,
those same eyes that once thought the bumps in
the night to be morbid tales of fiction.
All nights are nights to be made as easy times
for the luxurious hunts, as I am worn and tired
from my fighting the day behind me.
The time in which they stalked their
food had been behind the hands of clocks,
when the sun would have revealed them in an instant.
What lurks there are abominations of many breeds,
all in the same kin, and mixed in all
the tales of horror and suspense.
Never were their names lies or metaphors
for the sake of artists...those bumps and howls
of the night are older than art itself.
They roamed this world and the next, before
the time of the most average footprints on
the earth, making themselves known subtly.
I have only them to fear, but that fear is
smothered by the remaining light in t
NosferatuNosferatu2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Loop through and through the cycle that binds the existence of jackals,
of those parasitic fiends. Use what eyes are possessed to witness
why here and now they live and breathe,
sharing the air of our labored lungs.
Strength is the cloak worn by them accompanied by masks
of any required attribute. My only gift in preaching
against them is the acknowledgment of
their endless ability of adaptation.
When boiled down to the reeking sulfuric husks,
those possessed eyes will see the talons clinging
for life to brimstone. Boil them with the fires
they were born in! Reduce them to scale and unholy bone!
Do you not see? Past the smoke of smoldering kingdoms
and legions of fallen souls, where power is obsolete,
dwell fields of growth and harvest,
where the old grows the new, the machine simply never dies.
Have you only two cheeks to turn against your fellow man
before by standing becomes the act of disgraceful cowards?!
Have you not the mind and temple to
combat the wake and pulse of Evil?!
Lonesome RoadA mysterious broadcast from the west calling out to I, Courier number sixLonesome Road4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
to the canyon wreckage in the west I walk, one final quest calls my name
onward into the storms of the divide I walk, this time I seek only truth not money or fame
into the silo and grab ED-E my love, at least I have him to help me if I get in to a fix
the voice of a man play through ED-E, he wants to talk face to face without any tricks
towards Ashton I go with tunnelers on my tail, but the Red Glare will end this silly game
hit the button and all hell breaks loose, nuke sails high and goes boom guess I'm to blame
closer to Ulysses I get, but the marked men let bullets fly, but I escape with just nicks
into the temple I go rescue ED-E we're gonna do this together as one
now face to face, Ulysses is mad, because his one chance at having a home I did so burn
atone for my sins I will if that's what it takes for his grudge to be out grown
two couriers together under two flags fight for our freedom one last time for
Ballad Of the Lone WandererThe Ballad of the Lone WandererBallad Of the Lone Wanderer6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The vault, a fortress underground
It holds the fate of earth
For from this iron haven comes
A hero's quiet birth
The child has promise shown in youth
A psyche great and wise
A strength which gathers day to day
And rigid will to rise
But something greater beckons fate
Awoken by the news
The hero's father left the vault
And so the son pursues
The chaos then erupted through
The halls all filled with screams
The overseer losses rule
The hero leaves his dreams
The sunlight blinds nocturnal eyes
The air so strange to taste
The ragged country lay ahead
A welcome to the Wastes
The trail soon leads to Megaton
A sanctuary strong
The city built around a bomb
Perhaps not there for long
The Wastes are cold and often harsh
The Super mutants rule
Sir Eden promises new life
And Three Dog acts the fool
The Wanderer knows but one friend
The Brotherhood of Steel
Their justice halts the flow of fear
Though not always ideal
The hero ventures through a path
That leads into th
A Light to Light the WayA Light to Light the Way2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All my mind can believe is what its senses have felt,
that a surrounding presence filled its lungs,
and severed my rusted chains.
Though limited, the lines of my limits
are elsewhere and yet to be found
by prying eyes of this, pursuing wisdom.
My soul has become a lantern,
burning with an ancient fire of an immortal God.
burning unlike ever once upon a time.
I adore this fire, like a healthy obsession
that only continues to lead me further
towards the answers of ageless riddles.
Though a young one am I, I am a lamb led by night,
by the light of my one true Shepherd,
vigil as His light within me allows.
Humility upon my pride to come with what
fame should ever tempt me!
May history only recall the rights of a writing black sheep.
Useless ShadowsUseless Shadows2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Beneath noses and behind backs
Sneaks a goat with a rusty blade.
An abomination, a diamond in time long gone,
gone like innocence he so stole in the first days.
He wears shadows like skin, taken from sin at the source,
like peelings from a rotten apple,
wearing the mind of a patient fiend in any era,
plotting without end.
Bitterness sits, red and untreated in the drivers seat,
stomping whatever pedal it can find as ideas jump out
in front of the oversized vehicle
of pride and compensation.
Though far from thrones of omnipotence,
the veins course like rivers full of sulfur and sandpaper,
grinding evermore against the insides
of an inevitable nature.
Look down! Oh Faithful, look down to
the brimstone and fire!
They reveal themselves in useless shadows
with their own haste and reason. They burn now and ever with envy.
A Stubborn Faith and Warped InsomniaA Stubborn Faith and Warped Insomnia2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I can watch the sun rise,and a weeping moon fall.
Not caring in the slightest with passing seconds
in and out of the narrow span of my damaged attention.
Mine are the eyes that will close but hardly sleep
with my dreams whilst they are so abusive in their relationship.
My dreams are awake and warped, and I shall die and die again.
Why is it that I care so little, that apathy replaces
the voids of open wounds? These are but leeches on my Light,
as I become lost with Virgil and Dante.
Hunger sets in from a skipped feast, past an ignored sleep cycle.
A fable becomes my story to be a lesson learned to children
of a lesser future where apathy is the life blood of the world.
Here I will watch with reluctance, the falling moon and rising sun,
night after night, alone with my Light until
one day some day, I live again and again.
The Time that Can and Will Go ByThe Time that Can and Will Go By2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Youth gone to broken clocks,
At the dusk of the dead of winter.
Ages past, tick by tock,
Over winding gears unseen.
What science allows such movement?
LoveLove isn't romantic walks on the beachLove2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Love is learning to accept and not preach
Love isn't falling asleep in his arms
Love is reassuring all qualms
Love isn't watching the sunset at dusk
Love is knowing she smells of musk
Love isn't buying her flowers each day
Love is saying the things hard to say
Love isn't writing a cheesy love song
Love is accepting that sometimes you're wrong
Love isn't easy and sometimes you're scarred
Love is a battle and it can be hard
Love isn't always the things you'd expect
Love is trying not to be circumspect
Love can be found for all walks of life
Love is not just for husband and wife
Love can be seen between friend and friend
Love is a treasure that lasts to the end
Love is as difficult as you make it be
Love is for you and love is for me
The Queen and The Fading StormThe Queen and The Fading Storm2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Loosen the sickly grip of the false reality,
where broken promises grow abundant in ash laced fields.
The ashes of chances gone by.
Disgusting is but a single title in the series I could bestow to you.
Our relatives of the jungle, living in filth and cannibalism,
Do fine compared to the beast with countless faces I know by your name.
A game long ended by the pawn now a queen,
the master of her own free will,
shattered many times by rules created as gone along.
You disgrace all, dragging your self-proclaimed
passions down to the hole you've been digging, where the sulfur levels have only
risen with all motions of the rusted shovel...
it is only by miracle that you breathe like the rest of us...
The obliteration of illusions and conquering of the ash
laced fields has remade that queen out of
the broken down state of mind and being.
How pathetic that you should be called out by one you've endlessly judged,
and another that you've only used and taken for granted.
Flesh & blood should only