Thanks to wakeup-world for the photograph.

a wits slow fight, the battle rages on
unmoved by sense a pride takes hold in force
immobilizing paths to greater thought
instead, bring fore the role of mighty brawn

the eyes in light they quickly dull and coarse
words slip and tumble down the mountain fraught
with pitfall, sand trap, greater dangers though
they turn blind eyes to informations source

the books and learned men dictate a clot
through which no heart may bleed (a lengthy show)
a small incision sets the pressure free
and lo! set back they are to take a stock

a thought is free for those who wish to take
the only words we need our ones that break

Natural Order

Thanks to schopSCAD for the photograph.

the garden grows too short in summer years
and leans too tall in softened rains of spring
though not at all in winters undamp’d cheer
in harvest time the crops are crowned the king

the daylight pride is work — to toil hard
when fam’ly’s fed and healthy as an ox
the night is there for lovers silent bard
to move in quick as would the cunning fox

alas a drought will rob the soils furled
as well the flood will wash away the crops
by sun, a fires lit to ravage worlds
and night brings frost which none alive may stop

this cycle is a nat’ral order though
through which our world does endless ebb and flow

The Great Pestilence

Thanks to Wikimedia Commons for the photograph.

an arid personality of time
in which does dwell a fateful anarchist
the eyes, a torrid swirl of hate and this
a never ending, falsely pretty rhyme

it’s death in all her incarnations miss’d
who rides upon this heavy laden brow
the nightmare from a passing broken howl
my life is lost within the dark abyss

a battle rages on so broke with cyst
to-ward a terrors long forgotten fiend
the smile, endless wicked teeth gnash-ing
to bring the nocturne here, eternal bliss

eyes empty stare outside a soulless urn
to look inside and see themselves so burned

Elder Wisdom

Thanks to wallfive for the photograph.

at summers noon I seek the oldest man
of whom his wisdoms’ spoke with great intent
a mountain climbed to meet a hidden clan
within the alcove of their malcontent

his eyes were dulled from ageless badinage
the hands, scripturient in dreamlessness
forever reaching for a words collage
his tongues remorse had taken tasteless kiss

yet in his mind the sharpest dagger sworn
implanted perfectly in coldest stone
and in that darkened monument was born
the knowledge of a life to not bemoan

my wisdom sought was never found and yet
the war within my mind had been beset