Where have you been,
My long lost love?
Has anyone seen
My long lost love?
I long to know your state,
My long lost love.
And to find your estate,
My long lost love.
We were once united,
Bound in love
Ecstatic, excited.
A life now unheard of
I awake aghast, affrighted.
Awaiting a letter from you
Blown in by the breeze.
Far between and few
Are the days of pleasant ease.
My long lost love
I sorely miss our affinity.
And I sorely miss you,
My long lost love,
Creativity.
Four hundred words.
An army equipped for battle.
An arsenal fit for war.
But alas,
That is not what the power of words is for.
Confusion and mayhem are the devil’s doing,
The same are the Lord’s eschewing.
Yet, for what cause are we using?
As words broil above the bent brow,
An acrid substance is sent down
And spewed from the mouth to destroy.
To destroy.
To destroy.
If words could sprout wings
Would a dove soar from your garden,
Or would a dragon roar from your dark den?
Words could set free, if you hearken;
But would you condemn men, or give pardon?
And if you doubt the depth of this which I write,
Recall the tale of Edmond Dantès’ plight.
If you knew words could mold hearts like clay…
What would you say?
Your words can frame a day;
To deplore
Or to enjoy.
To enjoy.
So rare, yet so common.
No other creature on Earth wields words,
While we waste so many so often.
We become hardened,
While our mental fortitude is softened
To the likes of cotton.
Feeding from the bottom,
Surfeiting on forbidden fruit gone rotten.
In a radioactive wasteland
Where toxins blossom.
We harvest poison petals to season food that tastes bland.
With withering, quivering, hand
We feed our neighbor.
We don’t sense the flavor,
But still savor.
A cyclical process,
Implementing the secret of conquest:
To desensitize.
Because, all the while, we do not realize
We are blindfolded.
Blindfolded.
Blindfolded.
A spring spouting tainted waters
Sits amidst our town.
We gather around
And guzzle pounds
Till we nearly drown.
You can hear the sound
Of the concoction roiling
In the aching bellies
As people lay sprawled and toiling.
Survive today,
You may.
And thrive nevermore.
Thrive nevermore.
Nevermore.
Begin again,
My friend.
Examine your quiver,
Is your bow for a hero
Or for a killer?
I beseech you,
Enter the palace
And drink of the chalice.
Learn to live in a world
Of goodness and balance.
And forget not,
A word spoken
Set the worlds in motion.
Do you still doubt the power of words?
Whence come your society’s norms?
Or know you not how created things gained their forms? …
If you persist to deny,
If you refuse to be swayed
About the power of words
You will yet believe,
When you’ve felt its blade.
When you’ve felt its blade.
Its blade.
A butterfly flutters through the streetz,
Above the dried bloodstains;
Its wings bat away toxic breaths
Perverse and untamed.
A butterfly flutters through the streetz—
Great beauty of little worth.
Through tears gas, dodging bullets
With wings like the Fellbeasts of Middle-earth.
A butterfly flutters through the streetz,
No smile, no glance, no words to speak.
It wipes away a child’s fresh tear
As it passes by its cheek.
Before you get caught up in the rapture of romance,
Remember that the origin of every devastating heartbreak is beautiful.
The tragedy of naivety.
The calamity of familiarity.
This warning I submit to you,
Gatsby.
Their love continued.
Shining gloriously–not like the sunlight beaming through a stained-glass masterpiece, but–as though the sun itself were enveloped in stained-glass.
They were inseparable.
Their hands interweaved like the strands of the most symmetrically crafted royal garment. Golden, the strands. For when their hands meshed it was as though they fused into one effulgent organism of affection. Generating waves of love.
Their hearts were intertwined.
They danced on the rising horizon. They slumbered on the sunset. They kissed the stars, between each other’s lips. They held the summer’s warmth, within their embrace.
He saw the sunshine in her smile.
He saw starlight in her eyes.
Until…
A new acquaintance entered their lives. A villain of indifference. His name was…
Distance.
The summer’s warmth he once knew soon became the chill of early autumn. The hand he held became a key, hidden in a repository of antiquity. Her voice, once a spectrum of color, became like the dullest gray.
He saw dark night in her eyes.
His world collapsed.
… Falling and never crashing, in the infinite emptiness of cold space.
Then, like a dauntless archer, she relentlessly struck him to the heart. And the impact resounded unbounded in his realm of existence…
Never ending…
The sound of one word…
“… Anymore.”
(To be continued…)
He saw starlight in her eyes.
All he had known prior was the anguish of isolation and loneliness. His youth was a constant gauntlet of rejection. A heavy heart beat in his chest pumping caustic fluid, scorning his mind. Flowing into his tear ducts, causing him to cry acidic tears. Leaving scars that penetrate like erosion in his flesh, deeper with each tear; carving his own paths of pain. Until…
He saw the sunshine in her smile.
Her name was…
Dream.
She was the hope he’d held, come to life. He gazed into her pupils, as though they were gateways to another dimension. A dimension where they two only existed. With galaxies in arms’ reach, on an island amidst a nebula. Her skin smooth, radiant as pure gold shimmering in the light of high noon. Her hair like fine silk flowing like a glorious cascade…
Her presence consoled him.
They met like two lovers destined for bliss, whose fate was inscribed in a timeless novel. He saw the part of him he had been missing when he saw her; and she saw the same in him.
And so their love began. A love so pure that they were cleansed of all mischief and vice. So rich that they would never lack any substance of holistic companionship and intimacy.
Or so they thought.
It all began when…
He saw starlight in her eyes.
(To be continued…)
The raindrop
Stands alone
Then escapes the cloud
Like a skydiving soldier on mission
Whose face is proud.
It stands alone
In its descent,
Only to embrace the ground
As if it had a hand to hold.
But the earth is dry
And land is cold.
The rain drop is simple
And cool at heart.
Its thoughts so fickle
To make the foolish smart,
Yet I sometimes wonder
Were it sentient would it ponder
The significance of a lifetime between earth and yonder
And the sentiment of finding a purpose fonder.
For we are all like raindrops solitary
With a finite life span, temporary.
Some stand alone, and some find another
To join together and become stronger.
The lonely raindrop stands alone
But every raindrop makes the planet whole.
Mother Earth awakes, smiles at thunder
And says, “Mr. Lonely Raindrop: you have a home.”
These are lyrics from a song, on my mixtape “Destiny Callz,” entitled “Hope (U Must)”:
Hush little baby, don’t cry/
the world is crazy, but I don’t really know why/
so many tears flow till the eyes go dry, but God is looking down from above the sky, so high/
Tsunamis, people shooting bodies in the school lobby like it’s the new hobby/
Dudes doing kamikazes, you wonder, “who will rob me?” Humans been ungodly since the code of Hammurabi/
& oddly the whole globe’s always been almost the same/
souls so soaked in the darkness & shame/
I know the pain it is like a hole in your veins/
draining your life, but you must know one thing:/
Life is cutthroat/ but you must hold hope/…hope/
Pain & sorrow/ but you must know hope/…hope
I know it’s sad what you see/
but what we don’t see is a–say it with me–“tra-ge-dy”/
while the few rich chill, living happily/
so many kids [are] sick from the dirt they have to eat/
see, every 4 seconds a child dies from starvation & half a billion remain wit’/
no water, no shelter, no healthcare to even be debated/
& they’re so isolated we don’t even know what’s happening/
while 1 billion people have no access to water/
we swim in it, slide down it on our backs if we wanna/
now I’m not saying that we’re sinning in that/
I’m just saying we need to start thinking, in fact,/
do you know half the world lives on less than 2 dollars & 50 cents a day?!/
& a quarter of the world lives with no kind of electrici-tay!/
yo it’s, oh, so grim/
so you know somebody’s gotta hold some hope for them/
Life is cutthroat/ but you must hold hope/…hope/
Pain & sorrow/ but you must know hope/…hope
How can the bird sing the morning tune when there’s no daylight?/
& the flower can’t bloom if it’s drowned by the rain right??/
so let the willow sing it’s weeping song/
& sing along till your power of speech is gone/
or stand strong! & chant hard, with the voice of champ-ion/
making noise like a band march!/
life is just a minute, you can’t just have fun/
it’s time to make a difference like subtraction/
go to bed, close your eyes, once you rise, hold your head to the skies/
take a stand, you don’t have legs just for style/
stretch your hand, try to help someone out/
but don’t you wear a disguise!/
& don’t doubt & talk like, “oh yeah well where is this God?”/
though we are witnesses of wickedness/
It’s like the richest just be wishing death upon the rest of us/
but you could never develop strength without some resistance, & always remember this!/
there’s always hope in His name!/
(who?) the same one who rose from the grave/
When the love of many grows cold
The end is near.
Then true love surpasses gold,
When we have befriended fear.
Love is no longer; yes, love is not.
Though it still exists
It is but a revered thought,
Only a mist amiss…a wish.
How dear the bliss we crave
When love is lost and pain embraces;
How dare we leave the distant cave
When life is harsh and filled with faces.
How sparingly the kiss we save
For a dream that seems to run infinite races.
Love once breathed but now the breath is silenced;
Stilled, to be unheard and felt nevermore,
Stifled by lust, pride and passionate violence,
Still, we crawl the Earth in search of paramour.
The wailing cries of lonely hearts echo through the night,
To be consoled only by a breeze of wind,
And enraptured by flight,
Returning empty to the heart, and chilling the soul within.
Robbing pillows of sleep,
And causing willows to weep.
We all walk with an awkward quiver;
We all talk hostile, bitter.
You may doubt but your soul will shiver,
When you learn that love has grown as cold as winter.
Forget all if you will but remember this, my dear,
When the love of many grows cold…the end is near.
theblackjewelz 