Life and Death
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"Where do you think I've gone?
To which home I've been, one I long?"
Treasures of Maya abode
Life is but a fun joke
Lightbringer, cast as both: victim & villain
Truth-seeker,
Twilight tempts me to dinner
The first there at my first cry
In its accompanying greatness, my heart leaped for a cheer
Sunshine and rainbows was all we saw
I loved animals and she loved to draw
She was going to be an artist and I’m going to be a vet
We became best friends the first time we met
The brilliant dark
is terrifying.
It is brighter
then any soul is dark
But darker
Then the power of any blazing suns light.
All this
And yet it is empty.
All you can hear
Is the echos
Death....None have experienced such as this boy for his heart was twisted, turned, and fooled with as if it was a child's toy
I was born in January,
many don't remember because
often my birthday falls on the same day
as civil rights day,
and the oppression of rights is much more important
Kite grasped within a child's gripThin string suddenly slipsLost past burnt finger tips.Once was so dear, no long hadDevoured by blue quick sand.To the nothing reaches desperate, empty hands.
Silver slippers danglingPale stringed harp balanced on her kneesSilver notes become silver beamsOf a golden grinned grace.The glowing skirt as she sways in place
Not appropriate? When is appropriate? The world dies and we light our own on fire. Our hearts no longer burn with passion, but instead lust for power.
I will simply ask
Would you like to go out in a hush
Or a splat?
Do you want to be known
For jumping of the highest tower in Rome?
Or would you like to be whispered
Death is like reality, something that should never be touched.
Those mad strokes and slashes of paint that land against my chest.
They consider me as an animal in society's lust.
Death. Five letters, one syllable. It’s a simple word, yet its meaning seems to perplex many. How does one simply define death? We all know it happens; life ceases to exist due to death. Were all slowly dying, one day at a time.
Dust in the wind
blown from a tombstone
floats to a clinic where infants cry.
The cycle begins, life flourishes.
Words are spoken, walking is learned.
School is completed, sports are played.
