A World in Tatters (Or Culture of No Culture)
Walking along the endless void
I see the darkness that haunts us all.
The erosion of morality,
the crackling of decency,
And the endless promoting of lust and greed.
A sickness that plagues our souls.
I look to the around and see a world in tatters
A world where feelings are hidden
And violence is practiced out in the open.
A society where modesty is openly mocked
And vanity is openly praised
A culture endlessly searching for an identity lost,
A people who are trapped in an elusive bog
Of which they cannot escape from.
It is a decadence that will engulf us all…
Ilona: The Elven Bard!
The Bard would come to me during the night,
With her lush, white hair, brushing her bare-skin,
flowing freely in the wind.
She’d sing to me with that alluring voice of hers
As she wrapped her arms and legs around me.
She kissed me with those smooth and luscious lips of hers
Before she whispered in my ear and said:
“Come Ehtaro, make love to me on this blessed might!”
To which I gladly consented.
The Cycle of the Mind
I wake from my bed in the morning calm as can be,
Until the ASD flares up like a swarm of bees!
My ADHD chimes in to get a good thrill
Until my sanity is ready to shrivel
Nowhere escape, no place to cope
For my mind has become a whirlpool of lost hope!
After a long day’s battle, I’m nearly ready to admit defeat
To which my OCD says,
Rinse and repeat…
How to keep calm and write along!
I take a look up at the crystal blue sky,
with the wind flowing all around me.
Walking down the beach,
with the smooth sand beneath my feet.
Take a deep breath and soak it all in,
as I take out a chair and open up a book.
Reading until my heart’s content
I venture to my house, to my study
With a pen and paper in my hand,
Ready to write down notes for my new poem.
I open my computer, put on some calm background music,
and begin typing away with my notes beside me.
The Black Wolf
I am the Black Wolf among the herd of sheep,
A beast with fangs sharper than a knight’s blade,
Whose yellow eyes strike fear into the hearts of the weak.
Out in the distance the sheep gather upon the hill.
They look to the Shephard with the glowing light.
It points to the other side of the hill,
And they follow the light blindly.
Only I am able to see the truth
Of the empty abyss that awaits them all.
I issue a loud howl in order to warn them,
But the sheep didn’t take heed.
Instead, they cowered in fear,
Following the light over the cliff,
To which they met an untimely demise.
Now only I, the Black Wolf remain,
Standing in the distance,
As the sun sets on the hill I stand on.
