Looking in the Mirror

The mirror reflects who I am,

Yet it catches nothing of me,

For I feel empty,

While the mirror shows me whole.

Advertisements

Tears of Pain

Even one of the bravest and strongest animals cries at the destruction of this country.


Tears of Pain

 

Soaring above the skies,

The brave eagle glides

Below the clouds, witnessing

The mayhem that is unfolding.

 

Rivers of red,

Towers of fire,

Screams of war.

 

As the eagle flies,

It cries in despair,

Hoping for the country to repair.

The patrons despise everything,

 

Despise love,

Despise change,

Yet treasure sin.

 

Screams tear the country apart,

Blood flows onto the art

And their culture, and the melting

Pot flows with death.

Whistling Ground

Whistling Ground

 

The hum of the earth

Is music to the ears of humanity,

Forever pleasant to all of earth’s inhabitants.

Disruptions often are common,

But the hum always corrects itself,

Continuing to be a sweet honey

That soothes the souls of all;

All of the animals and the flowers.

The ground of the earth acts the part

Of gracious host, providing its guests

Places to live, places with food, places to die;

For the grounds hold all,

And the whistling earth provides pleasant

Music. The music crosses boundaries,

Reaches the young and the old, the

Brave and cowardly, saints and criminals,

Rich and poor, beautiful and ugly.

Everyone hears the hymn of the grounds,

It sounds the same in the ears of every

Race and ethnicity, members of every creed,

Every subject of flora and fauna;

The hymn falls on every ear and soul,

It falls upon the living and the dead.

The dead are kept peaceful by the hymn;

It is what keeps the dead entertained

And they hear the whistling louder in the ground

For as long as the song rings on,

For as long as ears are open to hear it,

As long as even the dead hear it,

The earth itself lives on and

The whistling grounds forever sing.

 

The Lost Art of Talking

Today in this world of smartphones and advancing technology, we have started to lose certain skills, skills that made human civilization grow. Now, because of the advancements that have supposedly made our world better, we have begun to lose one of the pillars that made civilization possible; the pillar of speech. 

The old payphone is to show a time of the past when people would pick up the phone to talk to each other. Even before the era of phones, people would send letters or arrange to talk to each other for hours at a time. Even when phones began to become more commonplace in everyday lives, people still would enjoy long talks.

Now, in the era of smartphones, the era in which I have grown up in, the phone has eroded the ability to speak. There have been instances where I or friends will talk through text and go on for a long period of time. But, when it comes to face to face interaction, there seems to be a huge gap in interpersonal development. Thankfully, I was taught to always speak and it has allowed for me to give speeches. Others are barely able to say five words without getting flustered. 

If people of my generation do speak, it is more slang and improper speech than actual English or whatever language it is someone speaks.

 Lol like totally fam its lit. Time to blaze up dude haha. Aye, dab man.

This is what society has come to. Limited vocabulary due to the advancement of communication technology. That above is not an exaggeration of what a majority of people now say when actually speaking. It is absurd to think that technology is actually helping us when in reality it is hindering our development.

As a result, it seems like my generation and generations after are losing a key component of civilization. The basic art of speaking.

America at this Moment


The Truth of the Moment

 

Youth and innocence flows

Throughout lands and hearts,

Helping promote peace and love,

Trying to turn the tide.

Corruption outnumbers all

That are innocent,

Turning the hearts black-

Machines of a conformist society.

As the fight of corruption

And innocence continues

Virgin blood is spilt

And rivers of red flood roads.

While the innocent heal

Their brothers and sisters

Of love and peace and sacrifice,

The corrupt relish in the blood.

The corrupt take advantage

Of the situation and penetrate

The innocent peace – keepers,

Further spilling innocent blood

And widening the red rivers,

Causing pain amongst the patrons

That inhabit the land. But innocence

Preserves itself, for kind hearts always exist.

Protecting My Soul

The whole world is horrifying, damaging everything and everyone. We as humans must do our best to protect our souls from becoming engulfed by the absolute color of black.


Protecting My Soul

 

Black fields intrude upon

My peaceful and tranquil soul,

Looking to extinguish

What makes me who I am.

Creeping towards the center

Black shards lash out

To steal moments of joy.

White light shines through

Saving the blue

As best it can.

Docile blue soul cannot fight,

Troubling trauma from being abused

Has rendered it weak and fragile.

Moments of hopeful joy

Shine through,

Hoping to quell the black

That intrudes upon my soul,

Trying to break my spirit

From deep within me.

The only hope that remains

Is that the black does not enclose the center

And hope and peace expel the darkness.

Looking for a Dream

People often cross borders to escape the horrors of their home country. The trek is very dangerous, costing the lives of many.

Looking for a Dream

 

Simple and quiet the woman sat,

The children with her on the mat,

Hands together and bowed heads,

Praying to be on comfortable beds

And in a warm, happy home.

They have no food, gnawing on bones

And drinking urine to survive,

Hoping to make it to the border alive.

Facing Myself

Sometimes you have to face yourself and your inner demons before you can face yourself.

Obsidian Cage

 

Black obsidian walls encase

My being, my very soul,

The thing that makes me

Who I am, is caged.

The oppression presses against me,

My punches fail to crack

The stone that blocks out

The light, the hope of life.

Nothing matters in this being,

In this life; the black cage

Is solid and unwavering,

No feelings are felt anymore.

The black cage is the vessel

To transport the damned.