Brotherly Love

The clock keeps turning, but time stands still;
Bleached by the sun, the blood only remains in the mind.
A life given, a life taken.

For six short years, his service was given;
Till one cold night, his life was evicted.
A hero slain, a villain born.

Swift justice was served, scorned by the people;
The villain reincarnated, a victim of the system.
A cold killing, a radical world.

The truth is diluted, mixed with words;
Molded saviors, void of truth.
A world cheers, a body cries.

Dismember

I enjoy being the one.
Bring your steel smile,
Succumb to the inevitability, chopping away.
When you look up, no café can hold the guilt,
Strong bridges with strong souls.
I’ll Ignite my Torch.
Cutting away what you’ve done to me. There will only be air,
And there I’ll be; which leads to turmoil.
At the bridges tender fibers, make a doubtful glare,
Eradicating all paths, standing with the axe.
Blistering work for peace of mind; don’t fall off.
There will be no rebuilding when you dismember.

Judas Pt. II

The curtains swayed in the wind.

Moonlight danced on the balcony.
A man slouched in a red leather chair
placed in his neatly kept library.
Unlike the trying years before,
he was able to sit in peace amongst volumes of books.
Some old
Some new
but all echoing the wretched words
that had haunted his mind for years.
It mattered little to him at this point,
the past was sealed away on the worn paper
bound between antique leather.
Enchanting dreams were cut short by a harsh reality,
as a thunderous tremor shook his home.
Everything stayed still
still as the surface of a forgotten lake,
except for a small blue book which fell to the ground,
fell open, exposing words which prayed to be forgotten.
the words dug like knives
into the poor man's soul.
He ran for the glass door but found it locked.
He banged and banged until a small red river formed at the wall’s bottom.
All that was left was a dying man clutching desperately to the broken glass.
His strength faded as he gazed
into the broken glass which sat just a few inches from his questioning eyes.
He tried to break through as much as he could.
But he fell for the last time.
While the pieces of a man stared back at him.

Rhetorical Thought

Beethoven blares from the speakers,
and she’s thirsty.
I give her some acid and open my book.
James is on the floor, trying to keep up.
His guitar is a little off,
his mind out of tune.

Bobby’s alright sitting
tight against the wall.
A cold stare
fixed on yesterday’s newspaper.
It's apparent my reading just
isn’t going to get done.

I put away my book
and Beethoven rolls over.
James gets up,
Bobby stays put,
and as for that girl,
she’s in her own little world.

My feet won’t keep still
I start dancing.
James joins in.
Bobby hasn’t caught on yet.
And that poor girl,
is hiding under my bed.