1. |
Timepieces
03:18
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Daily scenery absorbed into recycled brushes,
Only later to dive into calming pure waters,
Only a speckle for the thirst when clouds had once made promises of floods,
This murky whirlpool suggests it.
This hand has sanctioned this misdeed,
Spiraling inevitably only one of two ways at a time,
Clockwise or counter-clockwise,
Time heals all,
Time ends all,
The ascending ticks command it.
How could I have failed to listen?
I’m never fully evading apprehension.
When I was young I was told never to read into the lowest of light.
Were they afraid of what I’d become if I were used to the shade of night?
Or did they fear it for themselves?
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2. |
A Winter Graze
04:18
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Oh, how vibrant are these colors belonging to spring!
What sapid nourishment these delectable bites can bring!
And the leaves have returned in their purest shade of green!
But, with the dawning of each day all was trialed further vanishing.
For they continue to sting…
Now I find myself a season behind,
Serving time,
As if I committed the most heinous of crimes.
Swarming…
As winter winds graze chimes for the very last time,
Death and I are sitting sharing the last known front-line.
And he proceeds to tell me that,
I am the fallen descendant of autumn,
I am the unwanted dregs at the bottom,
I am the troop that dishonored my column,
I’ll soon be a martyr that is often forgotten.
Then I had to reply, if this be the day that I may die,
May you abide my request to recount all the events leading to death so we could see it through live eyes?
And his response to the life of a human being proved that it was easy to mingle with winter but so much more difficult to spring.
For they continue to sting,
Swarming,
They continue to sting.
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3. |
Tattler's Elegy
03:45
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A passerby renounced to awe in the presence of reminiscent scents.
Tales from the elder have become forgotten, like these fading epitaphs.
Inscribed into fallen tombstones, the words:
“Maculated,
Collapsed”
These words engraved scorned by the deceased, though, in the end true.
They belonged buried as deeply as our selfishness once was.
Although the faces have long since passed,
A voice never depreciates,
“I am always with you.”
I would give anything to have that sense of family back!
To forever share with loved ones whose path and mine have yet to collide.
So the wisdom of the elder and this odious child within can be kept close to heart.
For the elder tales relay new wisdom to older paths.
So to you passersby become the wise.
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4. |
Shadow Culprit
04:15
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Inscriptions compelled the attention.
But, couldn’t give,
Someone so much more than a criminal,
Equal value as such,
And you know just as well if not better.
Action; the best of wishes held in the light.
Reaction; exit with our souring breath.
I know this to be true because I haven’t had a breath of fresh air since birth.
But this time around, reaction becomes the action.
The silent heal earaches.
Silhouettes storm candles during this downpour.
The silent will heal earaches!
Silhouettes will storm candles!
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5. |
Winds Of Value
05:06
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An admirable account,
Alluring vital events of yesteryear,
Percussed appreciated rhythms draw glorious hearts near.
Ricocheting off bricks,
Caressing frames,
Tickling stiles,
Fear now instilled by hands that reject speech destined for aspiring ears.
For them to feel a smile lessen and posture exhausted.
Lenses captured our failed attempts, yet, reflect who we truly are; who we hate to see.
Hands crumbling to a known defeat; inkblots our imperfections hold hopes to what we may say and to hold back from what we must.
Although we rolled around in all of the filth,
We disregard the red paint upon our palms.
The sight versus the drought,
Seeking complexities we knew nothing about.
But let us never forget,
Valuable breaths descend from jaws of children related to distant lands.
Perhaps, their melodies could release the remedy for shivering vacant hands
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6. |
Thief's Errand
05:44
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What silent odd adoration I find myself lost in,
Discoloration of the skin in all the right places,
Infallible imperfections moist with pursed lips,
Found insatiable still tearing me to bits.
Capturing moments,
Stealing time,
Could we have a second of silence to pay tribute to sight?
Train me not to let these eyes fall upon horizons alone.
Teach me the origins of captivating skies, and please,
Carry through graceful winds,
The mystery of immersive hues,
Lead me to those dauntless ponds we had once played,
Every bit of it, my pulse,
False to my own eyes is my reflection out of it.
Currently, seasons change for the flocks to fly.
Every attempt against the sky has ultimately left the orchard dry.
Thereafter, everything followed.
Every felt presence swayed from the gallows.
They had infiltrated the essence.
As they fell, a familiar acquiescence constricted my throat.
Those spiteful words I once so easily spoke to this day lend aid to trial any source; any existence.
They continue to tease as harsh as their steps!
Horrid are these decrepit figures!
Everything of innocence hides away!
Due payment rifled at the heart of compassion;
Overwhelming anything that may resemble daylight!
“Tonight, the sun is put to rest never to rise hereafter.”
Well into the night constellations cried otherwise.
“A new plane of existence for this fading sight,” continues the revenant.
Though, mind the sun’s candor,”I shall embrace you again.”
“Never.”
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