283. Mutistic Refrain

Whisper not a whisper,

Or someone is bound to hear;

And it echo and repeat itself,

For all the world to hear.

Whisper not a whisper,

For even the wind has ears;

And a tongue for blowing secrets,

And spreading fears.

Whisper not a whisper.

Hold it in and hold your breath.

Let tears o’erflow the flood-gates,

And hold back the ghosts of death.

Whisper not a whisper,

They can hear! They can hear!

From their haunted world they listen!

Hush…do not let them hear!

Whisper not a whisper,

As ghosts are for the dead,

And should not find a home to haunt,

In any others’ head.

Whisper not a whisper,

Lock the door and close the blinds.

Protect those who do not know,

What searching here finds.

Whisper not a whisper,

No one may enter here.

Save all from what’s unseen.

Save all from what’s to fear.

Whisper not a whisper,

Or someone is bound to pay.

The haunted world must be contained;

They will not have their way!

Whisper not a whisper,

And they won’t find anyone.

Stay inside and make a stand,

For the past can’t be undone.

So, whisper not a whisper,

Crouch and hum an eerie tune;

And wait and rock until it’s time,

To greet the lonely moon.

For if whispered-out a whisper,

Someone is bound to hear;

And it echo and repeat itself,

For all their ghosts to hear.

K. Aldaya, 12/28/14

Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://favim.com/image/340275/

282. The Tree

Growing. Advancing its’ roots.

The tree always blossoms with time,

And in time it must feed its’ roots;

With sunshine.

Inside the flesh it has grown.

Now out of flesh it must rise,

And break through the skin and bone;

To survive.

Boring its’ way through the cheek.

Blood oozes and creeps down its’ bark.

Will the world be ready for this freak;

And fathom?

Gasps and screams sing-out as it grows.

“Oh, how horrid the truth! How bizarre!”

“This black-tree only spreads and sows;

Its’ evil!”

“Cut it down! Cut it down! The devil needs no light!”

“Let it live in the darkness it exposes!”

Too obscene to look at, and offensive a blight;

To accept.

Growing. It always keeps growing alone.

Cut back and cut down,….it remains.

For evil once lived finds a life of its’ own;

And spreads.

Could the light have allowed the tree,

To blossom into something of worth?

Is there beauty in the horror in thee;

In season?

The tree through each season lives on,

And under the skin it still thrives.

‘Til one day all its’ roots will be gone;

In soul-death.

For self-destruction’s humanities’ legacy,

To the children who refuse to accept,

They should hide the sins of the world and agree:..

“There’s no tree”.

K. Aldaya, 12/4/14

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://dark.pozadia.org/wallpaper/Evil-Tree-Lord-Awakening/

281. Reincarnation

Oh, how enchanting your presence is.

How my heartbeats run away with you.

To another life. Another time.

Where they once beat together as one, not two!

Does time flow through this heart?

Does it keep repeating its’ destiny?

Through the ages flowing the same course?

Ever to meet and bleed-out tragedy?

So close these hearts to one another,

Always close, yet never close enough.

Providence paints a grievous story,

On the hands of time,…deep and rough,…

In my heart.

K. Aldaya, 11/20/14

Picture: From Om Shanti Om; http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U5JZM-nIhd8/U6sJpkuUKmI/AAAAAAAAhOA/D6cqDfAHPUo/s1600/om+shanti+om+snowglobe.png

280. The Death of Dreams

Remember when you dared to dream?

Remember when you still had hope?

When the world held possibilities,

And time was vast in scope?

Remember when you dared to trust?

Remember when you still saw good?

When you looked into a persons’ eyes,

And expected brotherhood?

Now you always expect the worst.

That people are working an angle.

And when you look into anothers’ eyes,

You expect your heart they’ll strangle.

And now you don’t know how to dream.

And hope just makes your heart cry.

For you look in the mirror and all you see,

Is a vessel almost bled dry…

Just waiting ’round to die.

Remember when you used to think,

Someday you’d find some salvation?

And be saved from the death of dreams,

By some empathy or consolation?

Now all you think is that it’s late,

And hopes and dreams: for the young.

And daydream what might have been,

If your dreams weren’t left unsung.

You close your eyes and fantasize,

In your daily dissociation,

About how you and things might have been,

If just one person had offered validation…

Before the eleventh hour.

K. Aldaya, 11/2/14

Picture: “In the Mirror” by Sad-Cat on Deviant Art: http://sad-cat.deviantart.com/gallery/; http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2011/135/b/a/in_the_mirror_by_sad_cat-d3geaay.jpg

279. Elegy of the Fairy

Leather-bound, embossed with theme.

A fairy’s tale expressed in dream.

What will be the lesson gleaned,

From ancient tears: imbruing sanguine?

Time passes, and on life passes.

On and on she counted the masses;

As they rose and fell ’round her grove,

The fairy, on and on she wove.

She sang and wove a requiem,

Suspended in time in a delirium.

Her voice echoed through times’ void,

Until the universe was destroyed.

And on the shelf of a newborn ‘verse,

There rests a leather-bound tome of verse;

Which when opened weeps it’s elegiac-song.

As woven into flesh the soul’s of the throng,

For eternity unceasingly sing on.

K. Aldaya, 11/1/14

Picture: “Old Book” by Todd McKimmey: https://www.flickr.com/photos/toddmckimmey/; http://www.toddmckimmey.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/2010_01_05_old_book_2x3.jpg