Angels and Demons
The greatest angels of our nature
When turned by the cruel machinations of the world
Are far more terrible, than the malicious demons
Born in darkness
Above all is love
This divine compulsion is the supreme devil
When it is soured
By the denial of reciprocation
And what once filled the heart to burst
With ecstasy light bliss
Recedes implodes and poisons
With more anguish darkness despair
Than previous
Joy.
MCM
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That Dream.
To find the truth of things is only an answer to a wonder.
To reform is to make the feelings change into a much different way.
The changes complete the chance fore the greatest explanation.
But that thought only ponders on so forth.
It is only the answer for a synch of time,
Then that question reforms.
The answer is not the same.
You mean to think one thing then your mind expands its imagination.
The stretch of the mind’s eye then broadens.
The reality is back into view
You realize that life is not what you expected.
You return to that stretch of your imagination,
That dream. . .
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Alone (Revisited)
It’s been a long time to your heart
Alone here in the dark I asked for rain
All I could find was 8th Avenue
Along the well worn path
You pick up discarded things
For the stories they might tell
And I take the bruises
Because we put them there
I walk the avenue to you
It’s been a long, long time to your heart
The story is the same
Dark again, and empty too
With the words only we know
Hoping that somehow this time
The words will oblige my desperate soul
And try again to pierce the dark
So that the night does not fall in on me
When I walk along 8th Avenue
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The Wandering Mind
On the cliff I sit
My mind adrift, unfocused
Just a little bit
On the cliff I stand
I bet I could fly
Where could I land?
On the cliff I sway
It has always been my dream
Today is the day
From the cliff I sprint
Wondering what’s next?
Need a hint?
In the sky I twist
It hurts, death
I fondly remember my impact mist
On the rocks below I twitch
Someone is coming!
An angel or a witch?
In her arms I lay limp
She throws me into a wagon
A wagon drawn by a silver imp
Finally dead, I enjoy the ride
She winks at me
Was she my after-life guide?
Down into a cave we go
The hours pass, hotter and hotter
A terrifying presence of woe
Above my body, she flashes a smile
They fit me with a harness
I guess it’s just the style
She points to a door
I rise up and I lumber towards it
I don’t want to be dead anymore!
Behind the door was the task that would never appeal
Rather than peaceful rest
There is a wheel
We, the dead, make it spin
We force the world from day to night, and back again
At plant’s core we labor; let eternity begin
So I tell you, the living, don’t do it
The after-life you will not enjoy
Don’t let your mind wander, not one bit
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(2 votes, average poem rating: 4.5 out of 5)