My Sight Is But Half BlindLooking up at the sky when I was small Is no different than looking upon it Now as I am tallMy Sight Is But Half Blind
Though trees seem slightly lower And lakes a bit more shallow The oceans never felt deeper or wider Than they do now in my mind’s eye
Today appears and disintegrates Before it can metamorphose into NOW The day after taunts me with my past As I hold my breath for later Or blow it all before the moment’s pass
I need just a fighting chance To make it through this self-spun web For in spite of its colorful entanglement The distant light in black
The Secret of the LIGHTThe Secret of the LIGHTThe Secret of the LIGHT
I commenced my journey
Claiming to find my sight Vowing every waking moment As dedication to this meaningful quest Of which no one could dissuade me I seek out the LIGHT!
All the shadows around me
In their bitter darkness cry out When I manage to see their glimpses I search out their somber forms Seeking their cold hands to journey together To this destination radiating peace and beauty With its mere presence
But every time I turn towards a painful cry Not one shadow do I seem to find
Oh, I am lost in
Color Meinside the lines or outColor Me
i don't mind as long as your fingers compose their utmost
it’s been centuries that I gave up
my Crayola’s for the darker ink
of a gritty miner
i’ve come back now to tell you
that I’m tired of these pits
though aware that darkness
leads to light
mines are so deep when holding priceless treasures
but no happiness awaits me there
for what is a distance traveled without a companion
but a subjective truth that never leaves its grave?
come now and let me share
some secrets with you &n
The PhilanthropistThe Philanthropist
Hear close those smirks that echo fear
for never did a worthy man forget to drape his dirty deeds nor would he call upon his children bound to give their very tender heels as proof of love devout
when all their sweat and salty tears hide his own Achilles flesh from underneath the dagger’s bout
Speak softly to this aching ear for
never could I bear the din of idle
breaths spit clear across a room where
martyrs hang their petty coats so clean like bloody sheets washed white before the murder's scene
See through his lifeless heart the true intent of chur
--
I know everything, brah; I'm God.
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The brotherhood of dark writers is on the rise. With pens in hand we will write for all to see.
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The brotherhood of dark writers is on the rise. With pens in hand we will write for all to see.
--
The brotherhood of dark writers is on the rise. With pens in hand we will write for all to see.
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