When did he think
he was possible?
why did he
twitch at
the ray of light?
why did he blink
to the sound of voices?
how will he cry out
where no mercy dares echo?
who taught him to believe in Life
when he was not wanted?
Who will tell him as he awaits to breathe?
Renewed from 2012
Spring’s feathered herald
pecks furtively at the frozen’d ground
urging worms far nestled below
who refuse to venture out
and greet the bitter rain.
His red-dulled breast
heavy-drenched
with water disguised as ice.
II
She found last night
among the howling winds
that her chickling
had become an egg once more
curled into a downy, frail ball
yet no more warm
now more silent than ever.
III
Two quivering robins
huddle over their branch-bare nest
their warbles lost in the pelting hail
not a peep escapes from their hatchlings.
2012
when did it think
it was possible?
why did it
twitch at
the ray of light?
why did it rise
to the sound of voice?
how did it show rhythm
when no heart
beats for it?
why will it bleed longing
when it swims in bile?
how will it cry out
where no mercy dares echo?
why does it yearn to move
and leave a trace of mistake?
how does it breathe
in suppressed want?
who taught it to believe in Life
when it is not wanted?
When there are Manic days
where hope when not cried for
glimmers slightly,
tinting lightly on the blushing horizon
Reminisce back to those heavenly times:
sweet stretches of blissful sighs.
Remember those moments
those cheery, dazey, redolently, dreamy days.
Wait…what is that?
Oh.
Only a
silly
repression.
i have never
lay upon the roadside and cried for sleep
pleaded for water or whimpered for a meal
walked farther than far and still walked some more
bickered for space and frowned at innocent smiles
said words i did not believe
swore oaths i did not comprehend
felt pity drowning within myself
felt fright in sharing
guilt for still caring
accused innocent lives to continue with mine
i thought my nevers would last,but they betrayed me…
my never evers have become my now.
I await
that heavy handed caress
the earth’s vengeful finesse.
the oblivion i embrace
majestic and all consuming
magnificent when beheld
magnanimous with its tremendous power…
let me have
that thirst to survive
that willful instinctive frenzy
that one last
valiant attempt to breathe…
and wanting to breathe.
the minute
fading
the bit by bit
wearing
tearing
only makes
the rented holes
larger
yet brings
you no way
nearer to its
edge…
it remains
yawning ever wider
but only gnaws and nibbles away…
remaining above all else:
guiltless.
intotheindigo 