523. Put on the Mask

“Put on the mask!

It’s okay if it’s hard.

You’ll learn to love pain.

Death by suicide’s better,

Than a virus strain!

Put on the mask!

No one cares if you die,

Unless it is Covid,

Then, “It’s tragic!”, they cry.

Put on the mask!

It’s not a right to breathe.

If we want you to suffer…

You’ll go along…..Put it on!

Comply: “Yes, Sir!”

Put on the mask!

So death can not find you.”

(Though no one can offer such a guarantee)

Yet, with the states hands o’er your face,

It makes it hard to see,

All the people dying, internally.

K. Aldaya, 8/4/20

Picture: By Tai’s Captures on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/Lhb-zwQ-QGI

414. You Do Not Have to Die

I didn’t want to die when I swallowed all those pills.

I didn’t want to die when I climbed those lofty hills.

I didn’t want to die when I tied that rope on tight.

I didn’t want to die when I climbed that towers’ height.

I didn’t want to die when I loaded that old gun.

I didn’t want to die, yet what is done, is done.

I swallowed all those pills, and climbed those lofty hills;

And tied that rope on tight, and jumped off from that height.

And I loaded that old gun, for there wasn’t anyone,…to say:

“You do not have to die! It doesn’t have to be this way.”

I see you there with all those pills. I see you climbing hills.

I see that you purchased that rope and have no sense of hope.

I see that you are walking up the stairs to the top.

I see that gun, “Put it down. Put it down. Stop!”

You do not have to die, my friend.

This should not be your end.

I see you. I see you…and all that pain within you.

Please put down those pills, and walk beyond those hills.

Unknot that rope. There’s still hope. There’s still hope!

Lay down that gun, and in the morn we’ll watch the sun,…

As it peeks o’er the line ‘tween night and day,

We’ll sit and watch the start of another earthly day;

And laugh, and cry, and hope together,

Under the ethereal clouds we gather,…

And fashion into dreams.

K. Aldaya, 10/4/17

Picture: https://www.wallpaperflare.com/brown-rocky-mountain-during-sunrise-photo-rophaien-wallpaper-17362

286. Put on Your Raincoat

Alone_under_the_rain_by_Hope50

Put on your raincoat. Shelter yourself from the rain.

Don’t let yourself get wet again.

Don’t let yourself feel pain.

It’s better to hide. The storm will soon pass by.

Storms don’t last forever; nor clouds e’er fill the sky.

Put on your raincoat. Shelter yourself from the rain.

Don’t let yourself swim in its’ stream.

Don’t let yourself feel pain.

It is best to hide, and try to wait it out;

‘Til eyes are clear to see what rivers are about.

Put on your raincoat. Shelter yourself from the rain.

Do not move and hide inwardly,

Around there’s so much pain.

So, someday when I’m inside with a raincoat on and down,

Hold me, for I need a hug, and am worried I may drown.

K. Aldaya, 2/16/15

Picture: “Alone Under the Rain” by Hope50 on Deviant Art; http://hope50.deviantart.com/art/Alone-under-the-rain-171924820

146. God of Man

i_give_up_by_vhphoto-d3f3nq3

You say aloud you love me,

But why spoken so easily?

When in but one brief moment,

You clearly do hate me,

As nothing’s given back quite as nice as you’ve lent.

Your love’s a constant danger,

What will you do for love?

I know…you’d take out all my bad shown.

Seen evident hither,

Where you stake your cross-branding e’er ceaseless atone.

All-knowing. Malevolent.

You’ve placed your throne of judgment high,

For God’s commands to enforce.

Now aren’t you God ill-bent?

To play God o’er all you choose to love as sins’-source?

But O’ self appointed God,

I don’t care anymore. I’m tired.

Do what you want.  I give up.

I can’t e’er fear to trod!

Kill sin-flesh if you must.

Pass ’round my bloody cup.

Spread the cup to every mouth,

So they can speak too of my sins,

But remember this, King of Kings,

When blood-drips from your mouth,

A God of heaven may be listening,

And bears spotless, white wings.

K. Aldaya, 6/12/05

Picture:  “I Give Up” by VhPhoto on Deviant Art; http://vhphoto.deviantart.com/art/I-give-up-206763483

140. Unconceived Notion

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How is it that you can’t see that I’m not happy here?

Contorted masking deceptions bring flowing empty tear,

From misconceived perceptions.

How is it that you can’t tell that I’m so lonely here?

I try to fit and make things work but all I know is fear,

Of what in all mens’ minds lurk.

How is it that you can’t see that I’m so often tired?

Seasick from searching ocean depths to find answers required,

To accept the flooding concepts.

How is it that you can’t tell that I’m not just like you?

Somehow we think nothing alike.

You fit with all you do,

And I’m the outcast you dislike.

How is it that you can’t see that my own world is real?

Land that believes in the spirit,

Seas made of what you feel,

And whispered voices speak it.

How is it that you can’t tell that my life’s all my own.

Seeing things you will never see.

No words on the tombstone which is etched in gold and clear to me.

K. Aldaya, 5/14/05

Picture:  Artist Unknown; http://www.wallpaperup.com/uploads/wallpapers/2013/02/04/34222/a998a12ca5e88cb5960adb820990ffbd.jpg