The Executioner’s Axe

My speech for freedom was a success,

and thank darkness for a cloudy night.

For I could not afford a single soul to see my face as I stood,

de-masked above a dying crowd.

 

I roared about the actions necessary,

should we desire an end prettier than the starving crows…

though thus urging riot I simultaneously guaranteed a revolutionary’s final date with my counterpart’s sharp claws.

 

It seems to me that the powers which confine us,

are afraid as wild youth as it nears its end.

Natural life will always be the outcome.

What is up has got to fall; and isn’t that sometimes a reason to be quiet?

 

When one whose life is so alight that they react to their ‘nurture’,

they will burn a fire in the hearts of dead-men walking.

 

How this army will march united… I wish I live to see.

So that my eyes may dry and hate subside –

my axe no longer need divide,

my self in two as one who raises freedom and beheads it all the same.

 

My axe chips as does my soul whenever a revolutionary’s crippled.

This is how an executioner prays:

LIVE LOUD.

FIGHT HARD.

EVADE SOCIETY’S AXES AND BRING LIFE BACK TO ALL MY DYING PEOPLE!

Python

There is nothing in this world but mist,

blanketing over exposed convulsions and…

lulling our lungs to calm against our raging will.

 

Calm is a universe,

so separate from this -me-

so presumably occupied that it is left to loneliness in Her sadistic romance.

 

Worn out;

Our eyes struggle to make home within our mist,

they remain closed in wakeful struggles –

never seeing the colors surrounding our often too narrow grey paths which;

in the arrest of guilty breaths all lead to one central eden.

 

This guilt,

this… gift;

received with so little resistance is often no more than a domesticated python.

So why not tame it?

Re-name it… make it yours… own it and see;

a python does not revel in eating souls as a hobby.

Revolt

I see a sea of dreamers.

Foreheads resting on elbows,

Elbows resting on counters,

Counters built up by the broken dreams of the countless.

 

I see a sea of dreamers,

Resting their heads on their elbows.

Their elbows resting on the counters which,

are made up of the shattered dreams of the countless.

 

I see a sea of dreamers

Lifting their heads from their elbows;

Tugging at each other’s shoulders.

Elbows slowly leaving the counters,

Fingers clasped in a chain,

Eyes…

Looking ever-on-upward;

Never to be countless again.

 

Now the counted:

are seeing a sea of dreamers.

Resting their heads on their elbows,

Their elbows resting on counters.

And… In a loop –

The counted are defining the countless.

Hi, I Love You!

I’ve come to realize that I have a love problem.

I’m the kind of person who will be sitting 100m away and still have you feel my stare on you;

Until you’re so uncomfortable that you have to come find out what my problem is, or maybe try to leave but either way – I will intercept your departure and I will say something completely ludicrous like –

“Hi, I love you!”

You will pull away nervously, not knowing the most acceptable response,

yet… not walking away and then I’d introduce myself.

Maybe you’ll just leave me standing there,

Maybe I’d deserve it…

Maybe I would never know your name

and maybe you would just pretend you hadn’t heard me.

But just MAYBE

You will laugh and stumble over our humble sense of humor and retort with something like;

“Here I actually thought your name was I love you!”

I’d tell you that you’re stupid

and we’d both decide that honesty is worth the awkward.

You’d buy me a bottle and leave me a riddle on its bottom.

You wouldn’t give me a hint

But I would figure it out with only my fingertips.