21st Century Poets

Konya grew dark and sinister

the ancient city bled,

Lukos dwelled in demon form

all mortals dead or fled.

The city hidden beyond the hill

of marrow-less skull and bone,

within the ancient ruins

immortal spawn had grown.

The vampires and the Lukos

two breeds and worlds apart,

battle for complete control

await the hunt to start.

In towers ruined by demolition

stupidity of mortal splurge,

the vampires sleep in shadows

awaiting the night to emerge.

Dusk turns to midnight

as the undead slowly wake,

their hunger growing impatiently

with their immortal life’s at stake.

Through the blood filled streets they stalked

each breed a fear away from death,

a sudden slash of razor sharp claws

confirmed a vampires final breath.

Two Luko’s fed upon his heart

and severed the creatures head,

leaving only the fangs behind

to mark another vampire’s dead.

Battle went on throughout the night

till only two creatures were left,

Guts and gore flowed endlessly

causing a river in the city’s cleft.

There was evil in their eyes

both aware of the other’s power,

still only one creature could survive

and claim their Ivory Tower.

Face to face the creatures stood

their eyes burning in fiery hue,

the werewolf growled and grabbed her

as she ripped a leg in two.

Bleeding profusely, he took a leg

an arm, and now her heart,

gnawing hungrily, he devoured it

then ripped her limbs apart.

The vampire lie in a pool of death

as the Luko stood licking his snout,

and when he thought that she was dead

she reached inside him and pulled his heart out.

As the sun began to rise

and fall upon the city of death,

a shallow howl echoed high

as the Luko took a living breath.

An angel fell from Heaven

a dove of her Father’s grace,

because she longed for her mortal life

she was thrown from her Immortal place.

Upon the earth decaying slowly

she succumbs with shallow breath,

Immortality flee’s in darkness

as she awaits her final death.

Woes of tears from Heaven fall

as a Raven consumes his meal,

eager to build a cozy nest

takes a feather in his bill.

Once an angel turned Raven

lies helplessly In her sin,

awaiting darkness to claim her

waiting to die again.

Fallen from the arms Heaven

to a world she had forgotten,

earthen sin’s grown stronger

kindred slain by mortal begotten.

She mourns for the future

sullen, she deeply wept,

afraid of this place she used to know

before evil’s destruction crept.

There’s no where she can hide

away from this malevolent place,

burdened by this worldly life

fallen from her father’s grace.

She must search through death and pain

through the dark and blood filled river,

she must find her soul again

and pray for God to forgive her.

Old paint that flakes away

To reveal another layer left in the clay.

Layers and layers of paper covered walls

The smell of age is in the air as you recall.

It is a sad run down farmhouse of old

All tucked away among the the field so cold. 

 Faded paint and broken windows can be found

Standing guard over the fields of crop mounds.

.

It is not with grandeur or trumpet blare

But the sad decay of neglect of years with no care.

It is not sad the life that was lived here but time takes away

And generations do not pass along and stay.

We never know the hearts of those who passed by here

Of the days of hard labor, and the one lonely tear.

It is our grandparents, parents and kin that made

This home and not a house for time to fade.

We go back and find the neglect

That changed our home with regret.

.

We are not its keeper and have out grown its walls

We are still connected to the home as it calls.

Time is a measure, a heart, a recorder,

In our past erase the house for the home in that order.

We can strip away the paper and paint

Memories of home can never be left to taint.

Our minds are filters and remove many of the details

But rays of light and bolts of paint in our minds prevail.

.

We are always a prisoner to the memories of the past

But unlike the house we retain the paint that lasts.

One should only take such a journey with a rope tied

To today and willing to yank with no pride.

We should  never remain

For living in the past is full of pain.

Hold tight to your memories but do not delay

Keep your arms free to embrace that which is today.

The pride of the colors are muted and brown

Testament to an  attempt to make this house a home to be found.

The layers and layers of wallpaper do tell

Of decades of love and care complete so well.

They are all now riped and pealed walls to reveal

The cracked yellowed plaster of this home and its appeal.

Words flutter by

Childhood bubbles

Or milkweed seeds

Drift on the wind

Glistening

Gossamer

Soft on a breeze

Light in your heart

Then take flight

Tara M. Barrett

May 18, 2012

Origin
©2012, Olan L. Smith

Whispers the early thoughts of Dawn,
“Who am I?” What was I before the dawning?
Silence is the mind’s reply
Void reclaims what is hers.

Awareness blurs distinction,
What was; was nothingness and what is; is
All that concerns but the Dawn’s query persists
And thus conjectures what was prior first light?

Memories precede not this life
Only early thoughts of mother’s breast
And warm embryonic fluid engulfing.
Déjà vu pries loose profound thoughts of I knew…

Our logic inquires of how and when, a moment fades,
Once again we are overwhelmed with reality
A moment’s inquiry is precedent; we move forward.
We build scar tissue and calcify.

Once, in a billion a soul ascends in body
To touch the stars and knows origin.
Here the unconscious mind merges with the collective
Thoughts of all life and remembers;

I am. I am is the answer not I was, and
That is my name of names. No death only transference
Of awareness; I did met you before
In “I am”; I…am…you. Now, I understand.

sometimes i wish i was an actual person
instead of a figment of my own imagination.
sometimes i wish i was a living being
instead of a fleeting image in a dream.
sometimes i wish i had a semblance of substance
instead of being dust disintegrating.
sometimes i wish i could disappear
then it dawns on me that i’m not really here.
sometimes i wish upon a star
but the stars that we see in the sky may have already died.
so if our paths should cross on this long journey home
lets remember that before we were born, we were already gone.

Sometimes

I see how broken I am.

I know, I know…

it’s the broken places

spilling the light.

It’s the cracks

where we glow…

beauty in the common dark.

Sometimes

the brokenness is all I see.

I feel deeply

every flaw,

each raised white scar.

It’s then

I know

I am not wholly whole.

I know

how to be happy

in the quiet, shaded places

of life.

I can hum along

delighting

in a simple beauty,

curling like a mist through life.

I can gently heal

through breath and thought

the rough edges,

the torn and muddy tangles

easing

from impossible knots

to silken strands

in easy steps.

But sometimes,

even so,

all I can see is how broken,

how inadequate,

how fragile I am

and I remember

the scars

I carry ever on.

~Bloomingsun

It was cloudy. I walked along without an aim. Just didn’t know what to do with myself. I was tired of walking and I felt pain in my legs. Clouds were dark and grey, that was little bit strange. I felt that should be rainy. I entered the red café. It was almost empty, `cause that was the time for lunch. Sam was there. He was alone on the table at the corner. He drank tea and smoked the cigarette. One green light from the floor was fallen down on his hand. He was in a special and mysterious mood.

-‘’Are you alone, may I stay with you?-I asked.

-‘’If other guys were here, would you stay with me’’- he wasn’t satisfied with my question.

-‘’Yes, of course’’- I said with shame.

He had beautiful dark eyes, but he didn’t see into my face, just deep in his fantasy or vision of his life. The silence between us was pretty quiet. I enjoyed it.

‘’Everyone has his own star, which follows us through the life, but sometimes is stormy and it`s hidden in the clouds and it`s difficult to see when is stormy and depressed.’’-Sam started to talk and expected my questions. I didn’t ask anything, but I thought about the theme. I felt so strange, I was stuck in the Sam`s words and imagination. I was in tremble.

-‘’You`ll see  your star after surviving the storm.’’-He said that and he was sure in his story.

I was afraid

-‘’I must go’’- I said and I touched his hand which was so warm….He caught my hand, and gazed in my eyes….I was in tremble….I went out. I ran in the street…

I still remember those eyes with mystery and belief in destiny…

I still remember that hands with hope and tremble…

I met him accidentally  20 years ago. I told him that I have found my star and keep it in my heart with scars of the storm, but Sam doesn’t remember our conversation. He forgets the star and the ability of dreaming…

Whats inside
People breaking in or at least try

My mind is a winding path of emotions
See the fire on the ocean
…
Behind the steel door
Just a long corridor

Doors lined up on both sides
Each one is a different ride

Use the diamond key to open the lock
As you find yourself standing alone on a jagged rock

Surrounded by fire
This was your desire

To see what goes on in my head
You will see the living dead

you will see shadows and hear voices
All giving you dangerous choices

Walk the halls of ash and bone
You will see things you should have not been shown

You light a candle and say a prayer
In my mind no one cares

Its chaos and confusion
My mind is having a revolution

Fighting for what is right and what is wrong
What makes you weaker makes me stronger

The path is never ending
A life line I am sending

For you to escape my mind
Before you get stuck in the dark and go blind

Dont try and understand me or figure me out
I am me and thats what its all about

You will either like me or you wont
But trying to get into my head just dont

I can control what on in my head
You may go insane instead

Whats inside
Dont even trySee More