fall from six feet under
For if a dream is to be realized, one should have the capacity to bend, I say, rather than break one's own heart.
Just a warning for those who dares to click that tiny button on top... herein lies only darkness and an occasional spark of hope.
drop(s)
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post mortem lessons
he walks
with just one purpose
to stop all the murder
that occurs unhindered
even— shamefully—
encouraged around him.
he feels pity—
his act of mercy;
but just a pang
not enough to spare
girls who pluck flowers
bringing them death
they already knew
would come
but not as they’re
snatched away
under the glaring sun;
not enough to spare
the farmer who erected
scarecrows…
sending hay
in man’s sheath
to do his dirty deed,
starving his fellow creation—
starving them to death.
he walks—
but has long been dead—
never able to see
the fleeting spark of joy
before every misery.
no body taught him,
and he never learned
until he stopped walking.
lying on a coffin
made of amputated—
slaughtered— trees,
surrounded by palettes
of red and grey,
the flowers he willed to save
eternal in paint.
there his body lay,
but his feet
walks the clouds in heaven;
receiving lessons
much too late
for earth
but never for heaven -
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