526. Coliseum

I long to write, though who will listen,

To the rantings of the insane?

The title merely grants invisibility;

And a face without a name,

In the coliseum of civility.

I wander through the crowds,

In the stands, where spectators watch,

As warriors and politicians,

Earn another scar or notch,

In the holding of their positions.

I stretch my hands out for scraps,

As they shoo me out of sight;

Though from here I see it all,

And know that none of this is right…

And soon all of us will fall.

Be it by starvation, wound, or pride.

We are all part of the show.

I may seem but a distraction,

Yet I’ve gone where others can not go;

And seen every angle of inaction.

For they play their parts quite well,

And the world moves to their plans.

I’ve seen every move and collapse,

As money changes hands,

And they fall in the same traps.

From the outside, I look in,

Year after year…Sin after sin.

I hold my voice, and hold my breath.

No one’s listening, so who can win?

We stand aside until death.

I look at you. Do you see me?

Are you looking? What do you see?

God’s play games, as day absconds.

Are you a God, or are you me?

Do you play games with human pawns?

For who can win an endless game?

And who can fight our mortal fate?

Though, in my eyes you’d find the sun,

So listen well, it’s getting late.

This entertainment is not fun!

And this game you can not win!

The only money, worth it, to spend,

Is found in the outstretched hand.

For the show continues long after curtain descends…

And only in the heart of another could you understand,…

All we have is each other in the end.

K. Aldaya, 10/7/20

Picture: By: Jorge Fernandez Salas on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/hvxJ2cnecd4

470. It’s Only Fair

black-and-white-girl-nature-photography-Favim.com-356563

They say that life,…it isn’t fair.

That the best of us die young;

And men who live until old age,

Still die with songs unsung.

Yet tears give life to the Earth,

And the dead find a place to lie.

You raped me, but it’s alright;

‘Cause I,… I watched you die.

It’s said that there is a plan,…

Some meaning to it all.

Yet I find it hard to sleep at night,

As people rise and fall.

Will anyone remember you?

Will they laugh or will they cry?

You raped me, and it’s not alright,

Yet I…, maybe I should feel glad,…

For I,…I watched you die.

Did the angels ever get to fly or is it just a tale,

Told by early men who died by both monster and sail?

I do not know much of it,

Though I fear it’s all comforting lie.

Those who hurt, rape, and kill,…

One day they too will die.

Is death the great equalizer?

In death is all made right?

Will the criminals and the victims,

Go together toward the light?

All men are born victims,

And even criminals cry;

And even though you hurt me,

I didn’t want you to die.

K. Aldaya, 3/24/19

Picture: Original Source Unknown; http://favim.com/image/356563/

407. Naught but Vain

If I used logic. I would still be called a fool;

For logic will not purge the minds of resolute belief.

You’ll always think me: “fool”.

If I used emotion to try and reach your heart,

You’d only dismiss it as ‘irrational sentiment’,

And spurn my bleeding heart.

If I told the truth. If I told you what I know.

You’d remind me that truth is unreliable when it,…

Occurred so long ago.

If I swore on my life, that I know and speak the truth.

You’d still deny my pleading words. No matter what I said,

You’d still require proof.

If I stepped off a cliff and waved to you goodbye,

Would you finally listen to what you refuse to hear?

To be heard, must we die?

If I apologized for my life and my soul,

Would you continue to blame me until the utter end,

And still forsake my soul?

If you don’t yet know this, then let me please explain.

Invalidation kills the soul and digs an early grave,

And there the stone reads bitterly:

“This life was naught but vain”.

K. Aldaya, 7/12/17

161. Messages of Love

Film Title: Snow White and the Huntsman

I see me here in your view,

Clinging to the signs,

I see those messages from you,

Thriving with choking vines:

Living to die in vain.

From childhood a stranger,

To the idle dream-work,

Of others, who meant danger.

Shadows to creep and lurk,

There condemned asunder.

To be not kindred with the throng,

Those mortals and mortalities.

Driven hand-in-hand along,

Complete in their normalities.

With vitality and fortitude.

I turned to the specters,

Instead of fighting on,

And followed perfumed nectars,

Into bleak woods a’drawn,

To fall in sleep ‘neath death-trees.

Waking mislaid on ashened-soil.

Below a strangled tree, gasping,

For breath in whole fret toil,

As on every branch clasping…

Vines: living to die in vain.

To see me there harshly met,

By natures’ lethal tragedies.

Hope to not forget,

In pains the eye foresees,

In sympathies to comprehend.

For though death may greet me.

The time means not the matter.

I strived on in such degree,

As to surely scatter,

The living death thought to be vain.

For to see me in your view,

Clinging to those signs,

Given in messages through,

Thriving-on-me vain vines,

Proves my life and death are not in vain.

K. Aldaya, 8/28/05

Pictures: Snow White and the Huntsman: Kristen Stewart and Chris Hemsworth; http://cdn.sheknows.com/articles/2012/05/Snow_White_with_Huntsman_2.jpg