Why have you come here to our very town?
Is it that you wish to reek havoc and ravage?
"No" he muttered,
I'd like to turn you into my savage.
A system of failure
And constant discrimination.
3,000 planes in operation
Digging deep through the despairs and desperations of the nation.
A young boy continues to weep-
As his tears swim past his old blood.
He is reminded of his past,
Like corpses flowing through floods.
He drops down in disdain
Like the heavy roars of mortar shell hitting the ground beneath.
They seep through the seamless vines
Like a wireworm destroying a family's crops to eat.
He glances with rapid eyes
Towards his mother's soon to be passing.
He asks her one last time,
"Mother, how long will this be lasting?"
at
3:56 PM
The lonely night on the departed terrain-
It kicks in now-the internal fear.
I see the surfaces, and depths of my soul-
Wiped out, empty and completely clean.
What lies within I ask? What do I feel?
Like an axe pounding away at my heart.
My rifle in check like an abandoned Indian-
My soul in check like a mentally-ill patient.
As for the rest,
I can not speak forth.
I crouch down like a tiger
As I see my Columbian victim.
Ready to pounce on my prey-
The flesh of human blood awakens me,
As the bag of keys are crystal clear now
In the bright white plantations.
I snipe his head from behind as
My addiction kicks in like a fetus inside a woman's womb-
Only that it never stops, and it is life threatening.
The scare is now over.
I lay my arms on the side and retreat,
As the fine white lines make their way in,
Like a river stream bound to a basin of internal ecstasy.
It kicks in now-the internal fear.
I see the surfaces, and depths of my soul-
Wiped out, empty and completely clean.
What lies within I ask? What do I feel?
Like an axe pounding away at my heart.
My rifle in check like an abandoned Indian-
My soul in check like a mentally-ill patient.
As for the rest,
I can not speak forth.
I crouch down like a tiger
As I see my Columbian victim.
Ready to pounce on my prey-
The flesh of human blood awakens me,
As the bag of keys are crystal clear now
In the bright white plantations.
I snipe his head from behind as
My addiction kicks in like a fetus inside a woman's womb-
Only that it never stops, and it is life threatening.
The scare is now over.
I lay my arms on the side and retreat,
As the fine white lines make their way in,
Like a river stream bound to a basin of internal ecstasy.
at
3:56 PM
A home rumbles in rubbles,
Covered in burnt blankets and now cold cuddles.
A stained faucet-
Like an old blood stain on old doors.
Cracked windows and empty water buckets;
White powder on the floors.
A cold silence of eerie despair
Walks through the room.
It asks,
"Why have these bricks turned to black?"
Because the school kids,
Can no longer hold their bags on their broken backs.
at
3:55 PM
I have a red quilt.
Full of yarn, now falling to many pieces.
Squares weaved in non-parallel lengths.
It shines with the warmth it once provided,
But now feels as cold as a revengeful enemy.
Since When? Not sure. Why? Just is.
I walk through the hallway,
Of peculiar looking tiles and smudged paint on the walls.
Ceilings bombarded by rough patches-
Uneven, crooked, and dark like hell.
My quilt, flying around aimlessly.
Why? Not sure. Since When? Just is.
Above the cold surface,
I’m still cool, calm, and collective.
I look at myself. What do I see?
Emptiness, loss, eccentricity,
Then…
Pride, love, dignity, and valor.
I know this because
I am eccentric. I go to the far ends
Of the earth and back...and
I have a red quilt.
Full of yarn, now falling to many pieces.
Full of yarn, now falling to many pieces.
Squares weaved in non-parallel lengths.
It shines with the warmth it once provided,
But now feels as cold as a revengeful enemy.
Since When? Not sure. Why? Just is.
I walk through the hallway,
Of peculiar looking tiles and smudged paint on the walls.
Ceilings bombarded by rough patches-
Uneven, crooked, and dark like hell.
My quilt, flying around aimlessly.
Why? Not sure. Since When? Just is.
Above the cold surface,
I’m still cool, calm, and collective.
I look at myself. What do I see?
Emptiness, loss, eccentricity,
Then…
Pride, love, dignity, and valor.
I know this because
I am eccentric. I go to the far ends
Of the earth and back...and
I have a red quilt.
Full of yarn, now falling to many pieces.
