101 in 1001 - Write 25 Poems (No. 13 - 20)

A photo I took of the moon ages ago; I needed an image for this post!

This is part 3/4 for goal 21 on my 101/1001 list:

• 021. Write 25 poems.

Most of these were written yesterday and today, but a few I wrote weeks/months ago and simply forgot to post. All of these were inspired by someone or something, as opposed to some of the others I've written, which were entirely invented narratives. Some worked better than others, but I'm going to include all eight of them anyway. You can read the first six here and the second six here.

13. Pacificator Summi

Your way was not the path
That heros walked upon.
Not the celebrated honour
Nor pious pure of soul.
Perhaps it was too distant
From the romance of rebellion
Or the noble, worthy cause,
To impress the starry eyes
And rouse the sleeping minds.
The fire, burning history,
Breathed in human oxygen
And grew into a blaze.
Decimating all dissent
And razing it in flames.
The chaos brought by fools.
It could have been so easily
Extinguished by your cool;
Left to smoulder in grey cinders.
But a voice that is not heard,
Is devoid of powerful words.


14. Stars

Celestial lights,
Seem cold and distant, yet they
Melt worlds and form life.


15. Shadow 5 & 1

The mourning is over
Here it is always night.
Free yourself from the sadness.
You can die or you can fight.
Young mirrored doppelgänger
Controlled by your pain.
Your rage is transformed
And you know his name.
A fire to light your past,
A hand to take your sorrow,
A Gift to fill your mind.
You and he have no tomorrow.
Join in his melancholic melody
Cry out. Scream out.
Until you...blackout.

Do you hear his voice?

"I don't care about your dreams, my friend,
But I will stay with you until the end.
You and I aren't like them -
Disgusting human organisms."

Your intellect's superior but
You're not in control,
Still, he does what you tell him,
Soothes his sadistic soul.
The drone of voices echoing
Confuses those who come.
He can possess the weaker ones
But you are not like them.
Puppets piqued on painful strings
Amuse him as they writhe,
But you are unaffected by
The pitifully impressive sight.
He joins you in your hatred
Though it is a hopeless fight.
You're programmed to lose,
Temptation Revelation.

"The demonstration is over."


16. Aberration

3:33am
The tremors start again.
Is it the bed or is it the body?
The frames' motions sync,
Disturbing surrounding objects.
The arms and legs will not move,
But the eyes and head can look and tilt
And the brain recalls uneasy feelings.
The persistent rapid jolting remains,
Whilst the anxious discomfort heightens.
Mild palpitations occur at uneven intervals
But the breathing is incongruently steady.
The vocal cords are still, involuntarily
Silent.

4:44am
The vibrations cease abruptly,
And eerie silence fills the space around.
A thousand strings turn the head to the
Thick black velvet curtains, now backlit
And translucent. The brain recognises a shape
In the dark. At the window. In the light. But not of it.
Innocuous in appearance, the shadow puppet figure
Asks to enter, without any words.
Laughing? Laughter that precludes all sound.
Beyond the eyes. Denial. Refusal. Provocation.
Split-second synapses, the voice connects,
Praying for help in anguish. But there is only
Silence.


17. Osen

There is beauty in reflective pools,
Shimmering in hazy light that
Bounces from fresh pale greens,
Such delicate petals of Spring.
And in the glittering snowflakes,
And the icy breeze that carries
Rain and sleet like needles, alarming
Human senses so they know they are alive.
And in the wilting waves of Summer heat that
Evaporate the storms, and warm the hearts
Of those in need of a break from darker times.

But I long for Autumn's howling shrieks
And the baritone rumbles of thundering skies.
The untamed disasters and purple-grey washes,
Illuminated by blinding lawless cracks,
Giving way to the heavy atmosphere and
Spilling tears of joy to the land below.
Deep orange, yellow and red paints the paths
And the woods are alive, not in leaf but on floor,
With the mosses, mushrooms and insects transforming
The scapes and shapes of the world that is their own.


18. Oh! You Poor Little Thing!

Generosity
Give giving,
Expect nothing.
Nothing in return.
Say too much,
Of volumed spheres,
And always nothing.
Nothing in return.
The language plain,
The message clear.
These cells are tired,
Will not be restored.
Narcissistic thread knots,
Painful catches on the line,
Numbed into naught over time.
Smile and say nothing,
Just overcompensate
For the inconvenience.


19. A-Fluent

Aesthetics of pain
Without suffering,
Uniforms of hate
Without the intent,
Soul of an animal
Without the body,
Artist and historian
Without experience.
I can afford to
Indulge myself,
I can afford to
But only if you pay.

Aesthetics of culture
Without surviving,
Uniforms of authority
Without the fear,
Soul of a people
Without the bodies,
Scientist and spiritualist
Without understanding,
That I can afford to
Forget the past,
I can afford to
At your expense.


20. Q+A - A

What is it that you long to hear
When you lift the lids to light?
Do you want to hear the answer
To questions swirling in the fog,
Or just old tales repeated and
Sacrifice to quench the bloodlust
Deep inside your spiral twins?
If I spoke with another's tongue,
Would my words tell you the Truth?
If my suit was black not grey
And my language silver electric shock,
Would you understand the code,
Or just let it crack and break,
With deception crafted bullets
From a front of veils to hide behind?