The Storm

On and off again,
the rainstorm so intense,
the passion of her flood
so powerful and immense,
she cries for her suffering
to be shared by all
in the giant drops of agony
to connect in its fall.
The scattered storms
are never known for sure
when they will come
banging on the door
with howls and whistles of
the wind that occasionally accompanies
and basks in the same glory
of the same brutal furies.
When the storm disappears
the skies clear to beauty
like never before dreamed
yet with that feeling so quickly fleeting
to make way for the ultimate
storm that will be told of
as fable and myth for generations,
the storm that took and tore from bottom above.
She bears down without warning
and crashes, demolishes without hesitation,
no regret in her actions to the people,
no second chances given to the nation,
but rather her eternal wrath to be spread
to those she deems deserving
as she holds none of it back,
needing nothing left for reserving.
Instead she simply crushes
the ones below her reign
and leaves the corpses lay
in the ashes of their final felt pain.

Bitter World of Nothingness

I'm losing myself here
in the bitter world of nothingness
with only regret and mistakes
to show for my selfishness.
I turn to run from the trend
I have set to be the standard
only to brutally solidify
the truths set with mild manners.
A youth that has disappeared
and an innocence no more,
there is only lifelessness remaining
on this cold, hardwood floor.
Deep breaths help momentarily
to fill the dead soul with life
but the same breaths escape too quickly
to do the good that combats the strife.
The emptiness fills the room around
and throws my soul into the well
that is as close as I can handle
being to the pits of hell.
Understanding is escaping
even quicker now than before
with jokes made of men once
thought to be, by all, adored.
Lives torn down quicker than
the laughable meteoric rise,
the deaths now innumerable,
a cruel joke come as no surprise,
and the ending that was foreseen
but so foolishly prepared for by none
consumes me and all around
in a fitting finish required of more than some.

To the Others Who Create Shade for Me

The others who create shade for me,
the sacrificial beings,
the ones who work until hands bleed
to spare my comfort and feelings,
the ones who worked for years
to give me better than they had,
who worked the worst of the jobs
that most times drove them mad,
the ones who wore the bruises
their dedication earned them
to fight for the life I was gifted
and could never repay them for this gem,
the ones whose hands cannot
any longer bend fingers to grab
with strength the years have robbed
leaving them weak, nothing left of what they had,
the ones whose callous hands scream
for a respite from the torturous grind,
that prison that allows the opportunity
for freedom for my mind
and the freedom to embrace the realization
that if it weren't for their slaving, their wrought
none of this would have ever happened
with all of my dreams being for not.

The New Same

The signs put up
to convince others to your point
fall so quickly after
the gatherings disjoint.
The passion that overflew
for weeks at a time
disappears in seconds
as quiet as a mime.
The message to go through
meant to get across
is lost in the static
of the lines that cross
that now are cut
and done away with
without another sign from,
without even a blip.
Now that the booths close
and debates conclude
with a limiting of
the obnoxious and rude
a new day shines,
a new dawn to come
to bring evermore of
the same beating drum.

Fallen but Encouraged

We come together
almost every week
with nothing but honesty
in admission we speak.
Flaws falling out
in words and action,
souls ashamed,
hiding in contraction,
all the fallen
and sinful together
encouraging each other
with reminders of forever.
Bouts with sin
shared by all,
we pick up each other
and together we call
on our Savior's name
who will always listen,
who amidst the dirt
allows the promise to glisten.
He guides us on
the path that's right
and points us back
to each other's sides
as we come together
here yet again
as fallen but encouraged
women and men.

Depths of the Worst

Here we go again
from the depths of the worst,
from the mouths of deceivers
to the ears of the firsts.
Staring at further
down than thought possible,
a fate just a week past
thought to be implausible.
Lying on this back
fatigued from carrying the load,
shoving more down
this throat that's forced to choke.
Now there's no choice
but to stare up,
staring up at rock bottom,
sipping from this nearly empty cup.

Look

Look at the happy,
the ever-so wealthy,
the facade that's their lives
in a world so empty.

Look at the fools
who see the gold and drool,
who chase the dreams
of the overreaching, ill-tooled.

Look at the clowns,
the ones sitting down,
the ones who in their own
oceans of misery drown.

Look at the liars,
the ones with despicable desires,
the ones trying to drag
us down in their fires.

And look at the ones listening
to all the dull glistening
to all the lies we can't believe
that we are quickly believing.