Another Contemplation Upon Flowers

Written on 4-6-10

A storm approaches

Along the darkened coast

Storm clouds arise

As the dry ground will be soaked

The rain pours down

As the gentile earth stands still

This could last for hours

Will it ever dry?

The rain comes to a stop

As the clouds move away

The earth is once again still

For now, anyway

As the softened earth settles down

From this pounding pour

Something appears on the ground

Something small, alone, and tore

Through the ground comes up

The slightest sight of green

What is that?

Is it a weed?

For not a weed, but a sprig of lavender

Approaches the disheveled surface

It may just look like a blade of grass

But the color yet to show

As the lavender grows and lives

The coloring is showing more

Before it was shy and young

But now it’s older and brave

And as it ages

The scent is stronger

Wiser, true, and bold

The time has come for it to be picked, for others to behold

This beauty has been taken out

By who other than a mere child

Has picked a flower for his love

So her heart will allow another

And as they sit

So close together

The young girl has a thought

To burry the sprig of lavender

Right in the windowsill box

As she puts the plant in

The lavender realizes it’s time

To lay at rest and know that now

Its time is finally up

As life slips out of its stem

Out of the colors of its world

As its lifeless body lays there

In the darkened box

The girl has now put soil on top

Of the ended life

But what both don’t really know is

The lavender might not live again

But the young one it gives tonight

It will witness another downfall

Of rain from the pouring skies

And once again it will rise

Reincarnated into this restless, new life

And it will still be shy at first

When young and unaware

That it is loved and cared for

By that young girl who is the hand

Her hand will be so gentile

As they learn and grow

For all of them will still need help

Even when young at heart

As one continues to grow and live

Its time will come too

For she will pick lavender for this boy

The boy who picked before too

And as these two live through generations of lavender

For they will help after these

It will be buried in that box

With deadened bodies too

These lifeless souls

Have had successful, loving lives

But now the newest, youngest one

It’s time for it to die

And as this family continues to grow

Out of that same little box

The boy and girl, now woman and man

Are older than a few

And then the little boy

Who picked the first sprig from that matted field

Will soon be gone and put in his own windowsill box

And buried with more and few

And then the girl who has grown up

Is sad and all alone

And as she buries her last sprig

Her soul is now a bone

And as she remembers that very first piece

Of lavender that she received

She lies down to rest and with a single breath

Her body no longer moves

And she is too

Buried in the box

On the giant windowsill

With her love and in the end

They too will come anew.

Apostrophe of Depression

Written on 5-25-10

There is a silence on this darkened path,

There is slight motion in the saddened shadows,

There is no one alive nor dead on this lonesome road,

Near a window, the cries of people echo in an almost chant:

There is help, you are not alone,

And now there is an unchanging look upon thy face, and this is taken in

For now who are below, now see what they have done

With there all so wise words have done,

Is neither helped or diminished the majority of this problem.

Go on, just do it, the faster the sooner,

In a heartbeat, everything will be over;

Not here, not gone; --but in a strait of life and death

The lurking soul deceased, but still remain

The pain and saddened life this one create

The life that could of changed from bad to good,

But taking that into a thought of mind

A sudden pause came up upon the moment

And a single crystal tear pour from thy eye.

Leaning back and forth, unsure what move

To make within this spur-of-moments pass

To go forth will end in such a tragedy

But to live is such a tragic end itself

Dying now will make life anew

But living let die another day

Should there be a plunging death

Or just another back away?

Undecided for the now.

Thinking, just thinking:

Should this be the last,

That last of all misery,

Or should I live to speak another day?

O woe is this wretched time

For now, in this moment, shall be choosing

Life or death, or slowly die inside

As a heavy sigh comes from within the darkened soul

This is remains, the single question, truly of a lifetime.

Shutting the window, not yet decided

Not today, or maybe in an hour, maybe not at all

But there many ways to leave and to stay

To live it out, or become the Earth’s prey

To stay with uncaring souls, or live to die alone

The depression will kill eventually

But is it soon enough?

Too soon, too far to know

Still a throbbing question.

At the sudden choice to plummet to the sidewalk below

Could be as fast as tying a shoe, or picking a sprig of lavender

But could take longer if not landing right

Could just break bones, maybe nothing

Or just a few bruises at least, at all

Just count down from 10... 9.... 8 and finally hitting 1

Just jump, or not, so unfair at this vulnerable, willing moment

Or if to count up: --1... 2....3 and then approaching 10

All of this is gone, possibly lived another life.

As all these thoughts run through and through again,

One still remains upon the outer regions of the mind:

What will happen after all of the commotion?

Looking once again outside the window

The decision is made, and taking final steps

Walking out on the fire escape, talking one final breath

The speaking of last words:

Fie, doth this life truly live or hath death taken a ride?

For 26 years young, has felt an aging presence the while

And as these words are spoken, thy took the life-taking plunge

From the 7^th story off this landing attached to brick

But landing not on concrete, but fabric.

Cries and screams of relief come from the surrounding

But cries of torture come from deep heart and soul

But no one hears these faithless cries

For death upon impact was the case

But unknown until someone checked the pulse

Which made a beat of still and lifeless

Not beating with life and hope

The pulse was never truly there

But somehow had more to let go.

'Twists'

Didn't Write Date

People think that life itself

Is a broken promise

From the untrained eye

It probably is

But is a fixed lie

Some think that this

Is a twist on reality

But reality is a twist

Upon itself

For nothing is real

And what is real

Is merely nothing at all

Everything has a reason

And reason can be everything

It can control you

If you let it

But to take control

Of this twisted reality

Is a new twist to it all

You have added this new twist

This twist can live and breathe

This twist is you

Every step and every breath

Turns and bends this rope of life

Then you reach the end

The rope is frayed

It’s weak

Then it is tied

And all of the memories

And every step and breath

Is saved

For others to see

The way you lived

The way you see

Now your rope

Twisted in this life time

This life that was though a broken promise

Was really just another twist

For just another life

'To Night'

Written on 12-16-09

The sun has gone

The moon is here

Stars are shining

As the lights shimmer on the Earth

Lights from the homes have dimmed

As the moon and stars grow

One by one they twinkle

And bring, in the smallest amounts, joy.

Many think of the night as darkness

But few think of it as light

The moon, the stars, a slight mist, a shadow

The night is amazing and not a fright

In places there are fireflies

As they dance

Drifting in the air

As most go to sleep

Few clouds in the sky

Moved by the might’s soft wind

They fly away

And the starts are seen again

Darkness and partial silence

Is not a bad thing

For day is to night as night is to day

The sun’s light is still there

As it heated our hearts in the day

To be relaxed at night

The darkness is never truly dark

The moon and stars will shine the way

To guide the blinded eye

To show the beauty and not the fright

To the night; and to the moon, and the stars

It can and will be noticed

It will be remembered: ‘It shall never die’

And will fly for all eternity

Cold at winter

Warm at summer and spring

And the cooling heat of the fall

Night has many shapes and forms; it’s still all the same

It has come to stay, yet it must go

For the sun has come again: ‘The darkness has gone’

Another day to go

Then the sun will set, and yet again, the moon will rise

And then another night will live

Until the sun will rise again

'Sun'

Written on 9-24-09

The Sun is fire.

Fire destroys everything in its path.

It makes me miserable.

I praise the Sun by ignoring it.

When I ignore it, it seems to go away.

I prefer the moon.

The cooling and quiet moon.

I love the night and so does it.

Surrounded by little stars.

Twinkling the night away.

Then there’s the Sun.

No stars. Just the Sun.

Then at night, the light of the moon

Shines through the clouds.

The Sun just blinds you.

The Sun makes things go away.

Rain and Snow.

The moon watches quietly as it falls to the ground.

The moon keeps memories, the Sun does not.

Why should I praise something

That takes memories away.

Some good, some bad.

But still memories.

A Murder's Mind (The Peace Maker)

Written on 10-15-09

Dear Pathetic Use of Life,

I know your dead but being the giving person that I am, I thought I should give you an explanation of why I killed you; even though you are unworthy for trapping me in this iron prison. When I first experienced death, it was the most amazing thing that ever happened. The smell of fresh blood and sight of peace on the dying person’s face. So, I though that if the person was upset about something, that they should die. When I saw you, you were screaming and yelling because you lost your watch. I thought instead of looking for the watch with you, I would help you in a different way. You might think that these actions were over dramatic but what you don’t realize is that now you don’t have to worry about the time anymore. I put the nails in your eyes to help ease the searching mind, cut your tongue out so you wouldn’t strain your voice from screaming out in frustration, and I broke both you arms and legs so you could relax instead of looking for you watch. All along, you had left you watch by the sink. I saw it while you were peacefully drifting away from the life you had known for 22 years. So now you must realize that I do not deserve to be in prison or to be labeled as insane, but it is you who should go to jail for putting an innocent woman in this small cell with a death sentence in 5 months. I put you at peace and I get thrown in jail for doing the right thing. The world is a harsh place to live. My theory is that if you leave someone to suffer, you get to be free to roam the world but if you ease their pain, you get a death sentence. It’s not like I broke into your house. You kindly invited me in. Then realizing that you lost your watch, you tore your house apart. I thought that you deserved better. So that is why I ‘killed’ you. I just found out that they were able to sell your house to a family with a little girl. She is staying in your old bedroom. She sees small dots of blood that the cleaner had missed, but she thought it was the game where you connect the dots and then you get a picture. Anyway, I accept you apologies and I hope one day that you realize that you should thank me. But I should be the one who is sorry for you did not deserve the help that I brought you. To think that I wasted my time when I could of helped ease someone else out of pain that I wasted all that time trying to be a friend to you. And people call me sick. You are a very ungrateful person, but I helped the world by getting rid of one more of you demons to society.

When and if you realize your evil acts, then and only then will you next life begin.

Your Savior,

The Peace Maker.

‘Fallen Flames’

Written on 7-4-10

The sky falls dark

On the warm summer night

With the stars illuminating the day’s night

But soon comes a single flame

It is alone, planning its path

Burning the match it stands on

Waiting, just waiting for the moment

Then, it happened

The match was thrown at the home

Of not one, but four

The home of which was two stories

The two parents were down stairs

When they scented the smoke

And as they smelled the painful smoke

The first floor was lit up

Flames and sparks everywhere

Thrown in every direction

The parents run out on their loving home

And call for help in the almost silent night

And wait in terror

Knowing that their children were upstairs

Scared, abandoned, and confused

Then one child runs out the front door

Terrorized and then went into shock

The parents were now worried for two different reasons

For one was in shock, and the other terribly lost

Then the sound of sirens are heard

And the neighborhood is awaken

Everyone’s outside

Watching, waiting for the girl

As the fire department runs inside

They cannot find the little girl

So all they can do is put out the fire

And hope for the alive to have survived

That little girl has hidden

In her closet

Out of fear of the flames

She hears a man’s voice calling for her

As she slowly slips away

She had locked the door

And turned off the light

And stayed in the back of the closet

As the flames grew closer

She had stayed still

In a state of no return

Then they crash through the door

And just a moment too late

The man that had called her

Carried her out

He walks out the doorway

On to the lawn

Over to the ambulance

To be pronounced dead

Then put into a body bag

And into the back of the ambulance

They drove away

The parents devastated

Blaming themselves for being so selfish

Only saving their lives

Instead of helping

The ones that were their lives

One to two months later

They had the funeral

For the little girl

Who had died

In that undeniable act of a burning

After the funeral the parents had gotten called in

For after investigating the scene of flame

It was discovered

That the flame that had sat upon the match

Was dropped out the window

And had landed in the bush nearby

It was dropped by the mother

Who had of course denied it

But then the father turned her in

Saying that she had been awaiting

To make a fire

But had no idea that she had meant their home

And the fact that their young daughter died

Had destroyed only him

The mother thought it was the perfect crime

She thought that the evidence would have burned

But it didn’t

The only thing that was burned

Was the heart and soul of the girl

A year or so after the arrest and sentencing

To death row, which was deserving

The mother had been injected

With a life-taking poison

For she had killed her daughter

Through flame and smoke

There, right in the chair

She took her final breath and said

‘I regret nothing at all and would

Do it all over again if she could’

And then she had slipped away too

As they closed her eyes

And carried her body away

The crowed of family had softened down

They couldn’t stand to stay

Her mother only shed a tear

The husband cursed her away

The one remaining daughter shrieked

And then she hung her head

And as this day had come to end

This day of such sweet sorrow

The year of death, depression and loss

Had finally been put to justice

And then was put to bed.