347. Toward Home

The fire is set…let it rain.

Sprinklers on the ceiling spit,

Out the waters of the sky,

Which stands above the heads that sit,

Under this big white roof and cry.

Some are looking at the floor,

Thinking of their yesteryears,

And how time passed by so fast.

In the joys of their many years,

Their hope and love had grown so vast.

Some are looking at the walls,

Pondering the hour and day.

Will someone come visit them,

And help them bide the hours away?

Will any out there think of them?

Some are looking at the ceiling,

Dreaming of drifting clouds of white,

In warm, pleasant days of summer.

The beep of a bike horn stirs their sight,

As they ride ‘neath azure skies of summer…

Toward home.

K. Aldaya, 4/12/16

346. Silent Existence

Silent. In the silence.

The lack of voice is violent.

Hearts pray, internally,

While hands commit their violence.

Manic. In the madness.

Feet flutter in the panic.

Faces rise, to shade their eyes,

For the sun reveals their sadness.

Reverent. In the reverence.

Souls worship Earth resplendent.

Life lives, yet never gives,

Validity of descendance.

Silent. In the silence.

Even in stillness it is violent.

Mind’s mind, though never find,

Their way to condone the violence.

Existence stands silent.

K. Aldaya, 4/8/16

Picture: From Wallpaper Vortex; http://www.imgbase.info/images/safe-wallpapers/digital_art/sci_fi/39898_sci_fi_sci_fi_city.jpg

345. Beware!

There dwells a righteous anger,

In the heart of every poet.

Let no man make a wager,

That will lead him to his fall.

Deep souls are a danger!

Be careful, dare the words ye read,

Become thy epitaph,

Above an early grave which reads:

“Oh dear, ye fell too deep…

Thy former self concedes.”

Pray to God on bended knees,

That the depth and violence of the waves,

Will not drag ye down into the seas,

Or the melody of the siren’s song:

Enchant, and thy soul seize.

Make thy choice and sail on,

Or to the land lay claim.

We all must choose to journey on.

Explore or stay the path.

Live life before it’s gone.

Ah, the poet will ever sail,

On a sea of righteous anger;

Searching for another tale,

Of the ocean’s phantom depths,

And lost souls at sea which wail…

To be heard and live again,

And the waters open wide,

Revealing the restless pen,

Which writes upon the weary bones,

Of the Ancient Mariner’s men.

Beware the depths, young sailor!

Many have sailed these seas,

Only to find themselves on the shore,

Of their own mortality…

Enraged forevermore!

For there dwells a righteous anger,

In the heart of every poet.

Let no man make a wager,

That will lead him to his fall.

Deep souls are a danger!

K. Aldaya, 4/6/16

Picture: Photographer Unknown; Posted by Fujiibear 2/3/2015 on Fasttech; https://www.fasttech.com/forums/off-topic/t/1271251/gifs/93

344. Random Thought #16

The graveyards remind me how far up I’ve come.

The headstones behind me: what years have become.

I still feel at home though can live beyond it.

My old catacomb now ‘lone…remains moonlit.

I hear the depths echo endless implores to return,

But not yet…not yet.

I’m here for you. I won’t leave you now.

I’ve avowed to be with you. My soul to endow,

To loving and staying…living on somehow.

I waited many a night next to the crypt,

That shadowed the light from dawns’ cup a-tipped.

Pouring jagged rays: sharp to cut through,

I turned back a-ways to solus I was used to;

And now I hear the depths echo endless implores to return,

But not yet…not yet.

K. Aldaya, ’05

Picture: From Phantom of the Opera; http://fallenfay-l-h.tumblr.com/post/112922767865

343. Ghosts Are Some of My Best Friends