This Glass Design

Poetry is dead in a world with no head, A world with one body that plucks at its bread, A hunger or thirst, no intellect to quench, Terrorizing the world while we sit from the bench, Is there a light at the end of the tunnel, Or are we foolishly tracing the fence, All along aContinue reading “This Glass Design”

The Fall

There are thieves in the night, Who ponder and scheme, Strike deals within sight, Offer a dream, What season is right, to walk from this team? The world is not falling, but it is not rising. Things are not in chaos, but they are neither in harmony. The world is not falling, but it isContinue reading “The Fall”

For Whom The Bell Tolls

What dawns on us but truth, If not to convince the youth, Like water from a fountain, Whatever happens no excuse, This is conversations with glory, Face to face with time, They hold banners of revolution If the clock ticks past nine, But after twelve its all hell, though walls still stand like eyes throughContinue reading “For Whom The Bell Tolls”

The World to Come

A young immigrant child in Orlando, I came to the Far West from the Persian Gulf,, To the Gulf from the Levant, and to the Levant from the highlands of Armenia. Now, here I am, In the strong hold of modern imperium, America, Seeking my own freedom, from the dual extremes of ignorance, and theContinue reading “The World to Come”

the happenings of last week – new album coming from the overworld

Excerpts from the Red Journal

My heart’s tremors are there to remind me, Of the realization I perhaps once knew, Was I not sure just yesterday, Of which direction the wind blew?

free as a whore

to those who are ungrateful I hold a dagger, to their backs when they see not for they deserve, nothing but to see their toils spilled like blood. this is anger at its finest, perhaps better yet contained, into words, rather than anything more, for words are free, free as a whore. you are notContinue reading “free as a whore”

beauty came but never left

Beauty came and never left, Like steady rain upon the steps, The staircase to a fair place where air stays below the temp, A cold room full of sin, Where gold blooms in women, And old fools to swallow all the foolishness within.

a stream of consequence

All I want is to work, Until at some point I may find, The opportunity to succeed, In doing what I do best. Creativity, that art which flows, so naturally to me composed, of all the emotions I have yet, None of which I do regret. Only then may I find, A peace that isContinue reading “a stream of consequence”

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