THE WORLD ate the lungs of the forest
and HUMANS escaped the pain to answer
this little WORLD who they made crazy

Why do mouths lick their lips
and politicians line their pockets with
the blood of bleeding people’s tears?

The devil is knocking upon the living’s door.
. drop your religion of deceit and hate___
how is it when little creatures eat your feet
you praise their words and move on? Haze
and confusion and how i try to step forward…
is somebody gonna save the world? Save the World.

Angels falling — purer than purest pure
whisper of a whisper s0(big with innocence)
forgivingly a once of eager glory.no
more mi8racle may grow — praise god who has
many names and the devil has many more

i walked the miles and awoke the same. In the voice
inside my hEAD. Torturing the words of the rocks
rolling — the day i tried to live bruised my soul
all over. The day mother and father died i knew
we’re alone: say, ‘one more time to die? one more
time around this circus cloud of pain.

The pain was great and hated how my face melted the
paint i brushed across my pure face — so one more
time around, one more time around the joke of how
i tried to live.

:: 10.21.2021 ::

A REWRITE:

06.22.2023

IN THE HEART OF THE WILDERNESS

This global sphere, feasting upon the forest’s breath,
and MANKIND evades accountability’s sharp glare,
for this frenzied microcosm, of their creation laid bare.

Why do lips flirt with hunger’s dance,
and those in power garnish their gains,
with the sorrow of the silent – their cries merely stains?

The shadow of evil raps upon the entrance of the living,
abandon your religion of duplicity and loathing, unforgiving,
why is it, when minute beings nibble at your foundations,
you laud their actions and proceed with no reservations? The fog
of uncertainty swallows, and my attempt to stride forth…
will anyone rise to shield our earth? To save our Earth.

Seraphs tumble — pristine beyond pristine’s core,
a hush echoing innocence, so vast in its roar,
benevolently, an ounce of bygone splendor.no
further miracles may bloom — bless the divine of many faces,
and the fallen one who surpasses in traces.

I journeyed the distance, yet woke untransformed. In the echo
within my consciousness. The torment of stone’s tales
in perpetual motion — the day I dared to live bruised my essence
once more. The day when mother and father ascended, I grasped
our solitude: ask, ‘once more dance with mortality? once more
circle this spectral cloud of torment.

The torment was vast, and detested the distortion of my countenance,
the paint my own hands had gently caressed across my untouched visage — so once more
circle this circus, one more lap around the jest of how
I tried to live.

:: 06.22.2023 ::