Hope.
Dreams.
Plays a tune that sends me to a new world.
It gives me freedom from my life.
It is Justice.
Category: poetry
Blank Page
It’s like staring at a blank page
I can’t read it.
There is no information, but I know something is on it.
Invisible ink?
Maybe.
Maybe the words were washed away with the last storm.
I do not know what it is,
Only that it is.
Prove to me what is on the page.
Show me the words.
Bring sight to my blind eyes.
Bring peace to my unsettled mind.
Word by word reveal what it is,
Word by word show me what this is.
The Hill
The hill, what is it.
It’s a large ferocious creature composed of leaves and long rotted metal.
People must descend upon it.
All in order to retrieve what was lost.
What was lost?
Justice!
The trek for the items came to an end.
When all of the items were found.
The ascent was more dangerous and fearsome.
The journey was finally finished the pain had barely begun.
The Flower I Like.
Someone admire the ones made of clay
Which they were given the gift of a long life
Someone love the ones that are fresh
Which their smell is like the love songs from the sweetest wife
If I have to choose what I like
The ones have flesh and blood blow up my mind
Even their color would faint
Their face would age
But there was once their spirit
Lighted up by the fire of life
If death is coming
Please take me after my blooming night
Shattered Stomachs
The country evil and stupid.
What are demands but a plea for attention.
Kublai Kahn would be happy at the state of his country.
It seem his fathers long held dominion is starving.
Why do they fill the need to ask for such pitiful assistance.
No friends no allies they have ran out of options.
Now they crave attention as well as food.
Its not a paradox but rather a simple solution.
Behave cordially and your country will be around for centuries.
You have not, as a result your country crumbles from the inside.
You yourself attempt to hold on to your pathetic power.
Healing Process.
I saw your face again last night
In my dreams, of course.
The breeze carries your smell
and it makes me dizzy
I am soaked into the memories
as if you are still about to hold my body
Everything stays the same besides your absence
as my world collapses
I try to stand up by myself
And for the first time,
I see the world full of emptiness
I guess I need to build up my world again
by my own.
Don’t ask me about my feelings
I am fine
It’s just a healing process.
The Last Petal
She loves me.
She loves me not.
Pulling the petals of a flower,
looking for an answer.
As if killing something beautiful is going to find the solution to my problem.
She loves.
She loves me not.
I keep pulling petals out one after one, but still nothing.
She loves me.
She loves me not.
The flowers life remains in my hands,
shards of its life scattered around me
Only to be blown away by the next breeze.
She loves me.
Only 4 petals left,
But still the pile grows around me,
With the next wind
My answer will come.
She loves me.
She loves me not.
Only the last two, but I see how the story is going to end.
Do I pull them and reassure what I already believe, or do I leave the last two?
Hoping that maybe it will generate new petals to change my outcome.
I drop the flower and walk away.
Still wondering about her through the day.
I return the next morning at dawn,
Only to find my flower gone.
I spend the day wandering the streets.
Alone and confused,
I still look for the answer.
In a nearby meadow I see a field of flowers.
I rush over and I am engulfed, but no amount of picking is going to change the out come.
She loves me.
She loves me____
Mature.
Freedom Flys
Tyranny persisted after the dark day.
It did not come from outsiders or attackers.
It came from the people with power.
Of course they talked about safety.
Safety from citizens, safety for citizens.
In a sense it is just another way for control.
The people protest nothing is done.
Security it seems often comes above safety.
Detainment and profiling is the norm.
It seems in a time of crisis democracy slides toward dictatorship.
There are some who wish to be secure and free.
It is they who allow basic freedoms to be restored.
The slide toward democracy begins.
The True King
Who is the man who rules the country?
The Tiger yellow and proud seems to be in control.
He roars and claws threatening his neighbors.
They do not believe his threats.
It would seem that he is not the one who is in control.
The Tiger’s uncle, the Lion is the true king of the land.
The Lion shatters the tiger’s claws and bites his tail.
He threatens the Tiger, the Tiger must obey his command.
The neighbors will not sit quietly they will invade.
When this happens the Tiger will be held responsible.
It is not his fault however for his gruesome crimes.
The Lion is the true king.
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