An elder tree stands upright against an opposing blaze,
Painting the ancient tree with hues of a sunset,
Leaves of gold and burnt black.
A reticent bough on the elders arm,
Unwavers under the pressure of its dying brethren,
As the adolescent flames dance upward from their bearings.
Where silent genocide of the antiquated elder and seedlings prevailed, still,
Hope resides beneath the crackling ember.
Jenga, a game with an inevitable failure,
A tower laid siege by an omnipresence.
Existence can be seen the same.
Lengthy lives see a shameful demise,
Or see a hardened success.
Those who tread ignorantly reach the former.
The bird lives to see another day,
If they wake early for the harvest.
A dead, rotting kitten lay next to a bus stop,
Flies congregate to a putrefactive quagmire,
Blood, now stained on concrete as a reminder,
Lay before the nose, as if blunt force trauma took life of the innocent.
Its transport beyond had arrived, but on unearthly planes.
The bus arrives, then flees the scene of the crime with haste,
Leaving the apparition of death in mind.
Continue reading Day of Death
A vibrant, eccentric celebration of darkness and color,
Stands above, silently judging the few that contentiously waft
In the pool of their own darkened filth.
A visitor, divinity, tired of the stale attraction,
Gives a push to those standing.
No differentiation between colors and obscurity
In the gargling, inundating swamp.
Darkness and color alike, drown together.
The elegance of
Gliding ’round the
Wings cut through
The crisp air;
Silent grace is
The beauty to behold.
The sleight of hand,
A gentle move,
Downward spiral is the course.
Continue reading Pandora
The tired traces of agony,
The meristem of life faded,
The light from a rising blaze in other lands.
Beauty on the horizon.
Silent sleep; the only gratifying end.