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My journey is doneFarewell to all, farewell to thee
in midnight cloak doth dawn for me
in shadows I hide away from now on
in silence I ride into the night sky's horizon.
With memories to take and friendship so dear
those bridges I've burned have all brought about near
my ending inside and the pain it hath wrought
to end it all tonight; this reason I fought.
With kind words you bade me my journey away
and wished me the best and wished me to stay
but this journey I make is a path traveled by one
though your memories are with me and never will be gone.
Farewell to all, farewell to thee
don't wait for the sun in the morning for me.
I've packed my bags and traveled by one -
My journey is done
My journey is done
REPOST: An Artist's QuandryIf drawings came to me as easily as I draw my breath
than perhaps an artist I would be.
And every line that flows from my hand would be as the heart beats;
shown for all to see.
No picture nor sketch could suffice for me
nor vanquish my unyielding hunger for recognition
to be one amongst a hundred;
a glimmering jewel on the bottom of the sea.
I waste away the hours of my days
where daylight fades away
and my pencil grows dull with each stroke it makes
as my hand in clawed grasp, it aches.
Futile efforts they may be
but you'll all see
that one day I will create the scene of masterful artistry.
Perhaps not today, nor tomorrow or next week
but I will draw until I am weak
to recognize my dream from unending sleep -
to draw the one picture for all to see
and all to know that for whom had drawn it, that it was me.
A scene of glorious beauty that makes the heart sing,
the mind rejoice and the soul ring!
The efforts of a thousand days manifested into one piece
and to know that I no longer need
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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