Journal

Insomniac's Journal

Words birthed in the internal

His subconscious' dunk-tank

These words remained unranked

Articulate the contemplations

Of these waking frustrations

Pen in hand

Sleep be damned

These are the greatest thoughts in the land

But why do they come at 4 in the morning

Must write them down

And heed the warning

His memory won't serve him as well when he wakes

If only he knew what was at stake

Words, Words, and more still left to come

Cannot stop till he sees the sun

Sunken eyes

Blood shot red

Sleep finally comes to the walking dead

Friday, July 5, 2013

Verse: In So Many Acts

ACT I

So much
So far
Painful beauty
In the world we are
Living like lonesome
Nomads
And fallen ones
These restless soles
Yearn for
Western gold
And baking suns

Tearaway straps
On the shoulders of the wandering
The inclination towards stasis
Frequently a haunting theme
That burns the shackles on my back
Wait for winds of change
The strong will react
In these hollowed cities
The strong will attack
Outcomes uncertain
The decks will stack

ACT II

A series of innovations
Followed by a return to form
Critical mass
Today's norm
The loving landscapes of nature
Divided by man
On this side of the gate
I've raised a hand
To signal an army
Armed with more than enough
To win a one-sided battle
On the scale of legends and stuff
Land of the lesser than?
Bred by the best of them
We are the strong
And we fight for the shifting winds

ACT III

Thus the battle rages on
Through bureaucratic blood
And bone shattering stone
Fighting for better
Fighting for home

ACT IV

Settling on the dusk of day zero
An end of an era
A goodbye to heroes
The intolerable acts
Of your comrades in arms
Terroristic tendencies
We have raised the alarms
Sit down
Behave
Do as we say
We are your protectors
This is the only way
Relax and inhale
Your insurrection has failed
No more of this
Your chances have staled
Quiet your minds
Step back in your lines
Pay your respects
Straighten your spines
Our order remains uninterrupted
The constituents that have
Become corrupted
Were removed and disposed of
And wiped clean from the slate
These flights of fancy
Must be crushed with dead weights
This is how it will be
From this point on
You cannot be trusted
You're too far gone
Speak your goodbyes
To the setting sons
And now here we find ourselves
At the dawn of day one

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