The Blog of Poems

Battle Off

2009-05-10T19:22:00.000-07:00

Sat.05.March.05

It was a struggle, a meaningful suffer
Passing through the battle, of good and gooder
But is the battle worthful? If the battle’s over
Is the battle fruitful? When all are losers.

Parents are taught, how to handle a throat
Throats that are bought, from their lives whom they fought
Fought when they’re caught, die when they fought
And a fought not bought, because of someone’s thought.

Children wonder, why they have to wander
In someone’s armor, of guns and the gunner
They became the gunfighter, for their country’s future
From someone’s cutter, who cuts their breather.

Soldiers run, soldiers gun
Blood shed on the sun, when all is done
They close their minds, from the dots and the lines
Not thinking of their sons, who believed they’re not ruined.

People have been blind, because of someone’s mind
Who have not find, the innocent kind
On the tables are wine, when the fight is fine
Waiting for the time, that the war turns into dime.

People, people, people, why you have to gamble?
Your lives so supple, when cut so hurtful
And soon your offspring will tackle, the good old battle
And suffer the same struggle, that you have travel.

The Breadwinner

2009-04-27T03:07:00.000-07:00

Sat.31.Jan.09

His sanity makes him unhappy
He knows what's right and what's wrong
Sometimes, he wished…
He doesn’t.

But he has family
They’re looking up at him
Cheering for him
He is sane.

The scene needles his big heart
Hopes he sees in their eyes
Hoping he is them
He can’t.

Everywhere he sees, wide smiles
They’re happy for his sanity
But they can’t see
He’s rotten.

He wants to turn his back
But he has his mother
There, smiling
But inside, bleeding.

Old Coin

2009-04-26T08:16:00.000-07:00

Mond.05.Nov.07

I pick the old coin
It isn’t rusty, it’s obsolete
Nobody needs it now
It is old, unused, and erased.

I take it in my palm, and stare at it,
Of course it isn’t shiny
So I polished it until it looks new
It strikes my eyes with memory.

But it will never be the same as new…
I polish it, polish, and polish
It becomes beautiful
I hold it in my hand...

Like the day he gave that old coin to me
“Go baby, have yourself a candy,”
I picked the shiny coin from his palm
Everybody used it…

It strike my eyes with lust
I kept it, like a treasure…
“Go baby boy…”
The last words he told me.

The Yawner

2009-04-18T21:55:00.002-07:00

Yawn.
Shrug. Sleepy eyes.
The sun at it's best
Strikes the earth.

The pawn,
His sweat dries.
His heart slowly pumps at his chest,
It was girth.

At his own lawn,
Untouched pies.
Bored at his own nest,
Lazy to begin cleaning his own dirt.

Yawn. Yawn.
Half-closed eyes.
The sun at it's best,
Staring down at the earth.

Get it?

Being Young

2009-04-18T05:18:00.000-07:00

Fri.26.Jul.07

Being young, seeing things
Those good, and mostly bad
World with many bad tongue,
blinded by blings
Conditioned mood, conditioning to grow with fad.

Being young, doing what we saw
Doing what we want, seeking independency
Acting things with a bang!
Contrasting what is the law
Before we can’t, now with tendency.

Being young, soon will grow
Lonely and going the wrong way, just needing some company
Living with almost a fang,
-and a trident… souls so down below
Just alight ray, someone to listen, to care, to understand… we search… if only.

A.P.T.

2009-04-17T06:15:00.000-07:00

A.P.T.

Sund.28.Oct.07

A someone thought
Ploys were played
Tranquility savaged.

A someone asked
Ploys were for what?
Tangible lies.

A someone wrote
Plots- good for the play
True to the eyes of the innocent.

A someone grew
Programmed to be on the plot
Transparented, he is one of the players.

A someone hope
Prayed for the sacredness of humanity
Teleplays, more likely to be heard.