acererak

The shadow spoke to the congregation

“It's all illusion that world around us is meaningless”

“It's in meaning that we mix

“We control the destiny of things. “More than this temporary symphony

“I'm important

“I'm alive

“What's more is that this isn't about me

“It's about all of you

the shadow called out to all his fellows.

The onlookers smoky columns, flickering. Vaudevillian eyes pulsing in agreement Partially here, partially not

“We, are alive “Those 'people'” his voice dripping with venom “Are the 'them', the living...

“They don't even know HOW to live

#poetry #spookyseason

to know, more about your lies...

life is living, in the deep end.

not shallow, meaningless ends.

my heart is faded.

my mind is a poor vessel it has always been

I would give it all

#poetry

Do you remember the endless...

I do

laughter, so sweet it hangs like wind chimes through summer air warmth radiating from sidewalks carrying bicycles and children and memories

I remember those endless days of summer

#poetry

These valleys That we tread both far and wide These lost moments between steps and breathe How we lose so much time How the trees become superficial When walking by Fading, one into the next

Memories are like that after seeing so much of the same they blend together and some fade until I don't remember them at all

How much have I forgot

#poetry

the dog, the cat, the fox and bear walked in circles through the lair if one paused, the other nipped until one fell and was killed

the dog, the cat and bear though each was tired one was fed so when one more tripped and hit it's head the other one ate it up the dog and bear

smiling eyes blood red teeth

only ends when those two meet

#poetry

Rise my seedling From gentle bed of soil Life is waiting

The garden isn't safe Little seedling

Others may tell you lies That those giants Are your friends But im here to tell you different

We are special, little bulb We aren't vegetable Such petty plucking

Rise, seedling Come see the world we rule

Rise and feed

#poetry #spooky

I loved morning As a child. It meant Awakening. It meant Engaging. Then as I grew Mornings became routine. They were the dot Instead of the continuation.

I'm trying, To remember, why?

#poetry

far removed from pain is not the hearts origin.

strength which grows despite brambles. grows dense.

pain is the hearts fire

#poetry

I am all the things, I ever wished I was. Then again, I'm a terrible judge of character.

#poem

I used to think of palm trees as fireworks in full bloom that littered the walkways next to wafting sage brush shades and shadow on sunny days Littering the boardwalk

#poem #quickThought