A Rain held back for Months;
Its much anticipated Deluge—
Perhaps tucked away in another Time and Space
Somewhere—
Finally pours down.
And in the absence
of Obscuring Dust,
Unmasked
like the sparkling sands
Beneath the ebbing tides
Are Concealed Memories
of an Ancient Strength;
A Higher Glory—
All the Substantial and Fine prints
of Our Saintly, Peak Empire.
Â
17, 17, 17
Everywhere - the air has become Charged.
Could We now go back
to Sleep, this death row slumber,
of slow but certain
downward demise ---
Is it possible
to now close your Heavy
Shell-shocked Eyes,
Once We've been Called
to Awaken and Rise, and
to Cast Thy Net
to The Right?
Have the Brave
Engaged themselves, for Our Sake,
In the most Pivotal Conflict
of the Times...?
This War that spans
Across Space and Time;
that Decides the Fate of Man ---
Which Path shall Our Children
Set sails on,
Enslavement, Chaos, or
A picturesque episode
of Blossoming Peace?
And Who are the Enemies?
Inter-dimensional demons...?
Hahah - Surely they were
Tough to Beat.
(Have you had Visions,
Seen the Foul Smelling
beasts...crawling Beneath
the deceivingly vacant Deserts?
Have you...had your hands bound
as you witnessed the raping
and devouring of your Kin
Under the the blackened sun...?!)
Having survived the gory
Eclipse,
Where is Your Righteous Anger?
Shall We be Valiant
In Memory and Honor
of the Good, the Exploited, and the Fallen?
Shall We take on the Sword
of Vengeance,
After We've mourned
The Innocence destroyed,
White Flowers Inflamed,
Ravished?
.
.
.
Fellow Men and Women,
The Prophesied Age of Aquarius
hath Dawned Upon Us
All,
After having been maliciously
Denied
So many times (dark hands).
The Warriors of the Past
Who risked Everything to
Usher New Earth forward ---
1860, 1960, once more 2000 ---
Are they now smiling,
Now that We draw nearer to victory
This Time, Once for All?
No more resurrections
to the vile. Hydra's head
Severed, cut down
Under Cyrus' Command.
Brace Thyself.
Normalcy as We knew it
Gone out the window,
Everything up shall be Revealed
to be down;
Hidden Treasures are to Sprout.
Fact shall be overturned by Truth
Logic is to be rectified by Love.
Open your Mind and Souls ---
Do you see
The Fountain holding
The Water of Life
Rising, soon to burst,
Freely?
Have you been Alarmed
By the specks
of Tragic Truth
That have peered through
The Fog of terror and anxiety
In this Year of years,
2020?
“They are dropping like flies.”
Who are these unfortunate Souls,
Who let go of their Names,
Their Friends and Families—
Their Loved ones,
and Exchanged
Their Significance and Purpose
For an irreversible membership
In the Nameless Club
of Decaying flies?
Who are you?
You Individuals now turned
Empty seats?
You, The Hole
In our Hearts?
If God Willing,
You are still here,
Help Us, if you cannot help
Yourself —
Help Us,
So we shall not shed
More Tears,
So we aren’t further
Sobered and Yellowed
by your Departure.
There’s plenty o’ Pain
Here,
We’re sure —
But it’s still bearable
and Beautiful
With You Still Here.
The Sun rises upon our City,
Shining through
and eventually rising past
the Dust
and Smog of Unspeakable
Terror---
That which some of
US have been Spraying
and Pressing,
with an devilish
determination of Doom,
Upon those defenseless
in our muddy, Earthly
Lot.
You Stand by
the East-facing window,
and Dawn radiates itself
half-muffled,
through our Now
Sedated Sky---
Constrained by its
Silver veneer of death,
Mapped haphazardly
and logically
Overhead.
You Look back
in the Mirror, and
the Silhouette looks
Back sickly,
With Blood-Shot Eyes.
He looks back at you,
as if you were the one
who were dead,
"Have you been suffering obliviously,
If not having had been
Duped
into Half-Hosting
Our Greatest War?
Living one eye blind,
While having lent the other
to play mere Bystander?"
Early dawn birds remain unawakened;
night-prawl creatures resigned to slumber—
your Eyes are afraid
to shut themselves,
Lest you cease to
Stay Alive.
it certainly isn’t true, but
it’s nice to pinch ourselves
a little harder now and then,
and to Imagine
all of One’s Life glorified
in a single,
Victorious Instant.
Bolts of Lightning,
In shivering thuds
So tumultuous,
Violently
Shook the roof above—
Ceilings once
so sure and secure,
Now rendered ragged,
powerless and brittle.
your small world
Disturbed;
Darkness seized, and
False Light interrupted.
A Calling
So clear—
For reevaluation;
to break away from
self-afflicting routines,
Yet the mind,
feeble and deprived of
Purpose,
Slacks,
Missing
Old Sins—
Once the rain
Subsides, along will fade
Memories of
this most Intimate
and Loud
Reminder…
But Resist
We must,
Goodness and Love
take Discipline,
We Must refrain,
Hold ourselves
From the perpetual
Hollows.
Write it all down!
So that after
this gentle humidity
recedes,
The Will
Remembers
to Fight,
to Learn,
to Crawl,
and to eventually Walk
Under the boiling Sun.
Standing Upright,
We each create
Testaments of true Heart
and Devotion—
Who shall survive
Past our time
In the blistering trials of
Hot Spells.
Particular Moments 