The Tragedy Of The Misguided Crusader

Masterful workings
To balance the scales
The intricate complexities
In comparison we've paled
Fistfuls of courage
I raise above my head
For The good people
I have left in my stead
The undying crusade
Of which
I take the lead
Libra my guide
The justice I seek
Karmic Retribution
Who's blessing I hold
Systematic Constitution
My actions are bold
From the firmament
I have received my instruction
To protect the Good people
My only function
Blessed be the man
Who walks a righteous path
Forsaken be the man
Who incites a pointless wrath
Mindless steps they take
For debauched and wanton tasks
The Honorable outcomes
I reach for
With my fearsome holy mask
I am merely a servant
At the bidding of
Something more
Waiting for monsters
To knock down my door
The Filth
I am called to wipe from the floor
Vehement distress
I detest and abhor
Drawn swords
Licked by flames of pious fire
Those in my way
Will burn upon the pyre

My enemies now vanquished
Their blackened souls will languish

Headed home
My legend grown
Written down in every tome
The scales now settled
The world now equal
And I did it all
For those Good People

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Square 1

Back to the drawing board
Scrap the last plan
Throw out the script
Signal the band
Turn in your badge
Schedule a flight
Fade in from black
And then cut to white
Retrace your steps
Eliminate the prints
We're starting from scratch
No tips, tricks, or hints

This is round two
It belongs to you
Take what you need
And do what you do
Fight the good fight
For as long as you can
Rally the troops
Call only good men

We have now entered
The land of last chances
Filled with inspiring speeches
And last stances
This is square one
For the final time
Claim your endings
At the front of the line

Bleeding tears
From the broken heart
This is where we make our start

The Missing Link, For The Desperate Seekers

Envy the content

For they know the secret

That which escapes you

They have trapped like a rat

With wide grins

And stomachs full of satisfaction

These Cheshire cats

Run rampant with glee

Purity that we spite

Role models floating at an immense height

This
The total

In the grand scheme of things

The content have a grasp

On the shapeless rings

These fulfilled kings

Sit upon thrones

Built with answers and wings

While the rest of us

Muddle through

Our thoughts befuddled

Our questions many

Our answers too few

Our wants undetermined

Our needs unattended

Our neighbors

The content

To a higher plane

They have ascended

Envy the content

But pity the rest

Even with it all

There’s still more to our quest

The goal is not the end

The incentives

They blend

The pointless ambition

We crafted

To win

But Why?

And For what?

We ran

And for what?

We swam

And for what?

We crawled

That’s enough

Decades and decades

Multiples of ten

Years and years

Will this come to an end?

Why did we do this?

Where are we headed when we begin?

Are we running in circles?

Or is this just the purpose of men?

To search and to search

And to search some more

Envy the content

Repetition is our lore

Their quests seemingly ended long since past

They smile easy

And they smile fast

They never need much

So they always have enough

Never prone to restlessness

They never bluff tough

How is it, they don’t give in?

To the rush of the world

Its instigations and sins

Its incessant barrage

And Unnecessary roughness

I just want 

To be 

Content

Sad Tales From Yesterday's Youth

The sad stories
You were all writing
With hasty decisions
And washed out lighting
Misguided transitions
From bright beginnings
Diving down dark rabbit holes
It seems so fitting

No U-turns on this one way street
Your failures famed
Your successes discreet
Your path a mirage
With illusory simplicity
Veils the difficult demons
Prepared with hurtful intentions

You were once
But no longer

The story you never knew you were writing
With ink in years
Turned out ever so frightening
With misunderstood fears
Distracting from the rest
It all ends in tears
Subtracting from the best
At zero you appear
Ending in a mess

Like fading shadows
Cast by dismantled structures
Yesterday's youth
No shine
Lackluster
Looking at their tales of woe
And bibles of regret
Notice small things strewn about the pages
Is there Happiness to detect?

Impossibilities
Thrown away
Smiles are beaming
On the old and gray
Content souls
Birthed from pain and suffering
Questionable emotions
Confusion and compulsions
What is going on?
Your sad tales should make you weep
Not bring you close to home

We now write
Our first chapters
Today's youth
These early pages filled with laughter
Best to leave the old
To their own devices
Their tragedies not our problem
Age is not our vices
Our tales will not be sad
Or marked with any pain
Our futures are bright
We are not the same

Imaginative Nonfiction

Kids are like Kings

With advisors and thrones

Kingdoms stretching from here to there

Holy knights and impenetrable Bones

With the world at their feet

And shifting scepters in their hands

With imagination

They rule

The entire land

The long lists of battles

They have won

With hands tied behind their backs

Goes on Ad infinitum

Of gilded glory

They do not lack

If left to them

Their legend would include

All the dragons they have slayed

All the curses they elude

All the maidens they have smooched

And all the armies that they’ve led

These are not just whimsical tales

Read before bed

No

This is a world existing three feet off the ground

A beautiful thing

Where adults are not found

Because their skepticism

Always bears a heavy weight

This is fact not fiction

Children’s truth

Exists in gaseous state

It cannot be easily trapped

Or forcefully examined

But it holds strong

Sitting just three feet off the ground

The Cutter's Bloody Questions

What do you bleed?

Is it thicker than water?

Does it stick and cling when it’s spilt?

Does it echo with memories?

Does it sing?

Or does it cry?

What really pumps through you?

Is it laughter or disaster?

Wood Oak or shriveling plaster

Is it melodic hopes?

Or just sanguine ropes

Hanging you slowly with the veins of life

Splitting open

At the drawing of dull knives

How does it run?

Slow or fast

Dripping with poison

Weighed down by mass

Drawn from the heart

Out through the pipes

This Life hinges on liquid

This liquid flows throughout life

What do you bleed?

Is it love?

Or is it lust?

Is it wet?

Or is it dust?

Does it flow because it wants to?

Or does it flow because it must?
Does it bubble and clot?
Does it twist?
Does it knot?
Does it wriggle and writhe?
Does it buzz like the hive?
Fresh or stagnant
Dead or Alive?

What do you bleed?