we've given up.
the hurly-burly is done,
but the battle was lost.
the scarred battlefield
is strewn with the corpses of
soldiers mindlessly sent to death.
this skirmish was a Holocaust;
those lost were innocent.
the faces of pure children
lay mottled in the field
where blood was spilled like rain.
there's no point anymore
in their fighting the inevitable.
we must submit to the
vicegrip of the dark-angel
observing from above.
in the center of the
massacre lies a pile,
a mound of the dead
sacrificed to the above.
on top of this altar
lies the great leader of heraldry.
blood seeps from his mouth
like water to feed the
roots of the flowers.
flies buzz about his face
awaiting putrefaction,
hoping for decay.
and his eyes--
so pure, so delicate!
so fierce and strong!
his eyes are locked upon
the sky. that is where he
belongs--above such
shame, such travesty.
but that dark-angel,
laughing from a heaven
that is wrongfully his:--
he has triumphed for evil,
and the good are
left behind, left
in this field to rot,
forever.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
What we know
Sing a song of honesty
A pocket full of lies
Listening when you speak to me
The truth in your eyes
Sing a song of time together
Pretending things are fine
Too frightened to change the status quo
Admit the truth’s that mine
Sing a song of here and now
The words you long to say
What we have is not enough
Will wait another day
Sing a song of reality
We’ll drift along a while
Until we see what we already know
Hidden behind the smile
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