Far beyond this land
of gloom and hate,
where the rain pours
cold with Death, beating at my face
I sit coiled, alone
around a fire that burns so ever dim.
As the fire burns out,
so does my life.
As I fall, my breath leaves
one last time.
Dirt
This little patch of soil
used to be a tree
where as a child I would play and toil
to keeps its splendid beauty
but now this patch of dirt
is nothing but a black spot
there was a lot of hurt
from the fire burning hot.
This was no accident
it was deliberately set.
The soldiers came and went
the flames consumed the tree but yet
there's a tiny little leaf
coming from the ground,
maybe just maybe
life will come back around
Untitled
The pale morning light shines upon her face.
Her radiant beauty glows so brightly,
Brighter than the sun and stars outside space.
Truly a sight for the world to see,
Her hair flows down like an golden cascade,
with eyes like diamonds in the midnight sky.
Someone so beautiful is Heaven made,
with beauty that could make any man cry.
Her laughter warms even the coldest hearts,
her smile melts the hardest souls.
The joy that she brings is only the start,
of a passion that burns like red hot coals.
Surely she is a goddess from above.
Alas she is not but she I still love.
Summer life
Theres not a care in the world
when your eighteen
livin in California
longboards, surfboards, skateboards too
crusin to the nearest In n Out
ridin the boardwalk
watching the Pacific sunset
as it paints the sky
wacthing the ocean wash away
the land made of sand
Then the bonfires light up
the pitch black night
You can be a beach bum by day
and Hollywood star by night
Hike the highest peaks
surf the biggest wave
California, no place like
I can move away when I'm old and gray
but California will never leave me
So here I'll stay
The Californian boy
Quick write: Junior year
During my AP English class we had to write about a
certain topic for about 2-5 minutes without
putting our pencils down and here's the first one
I wrote on December 6th 2006.
Q: What does tomorrow smell like?
A: Tomorrow smells like ash. It smells like the
fire of industry burning away the old world. Not
the world that we call old but the world we live
in today. The green of Earth will turn to black
and the blue will turn yellow. The life and soul
of the people will wither and die slaves to
industry and technology, slaves to their own
inventions. All that is good will be gone. Fun
will only be an idea of the past. That rape of the
world has just begun. The world will turn to a
black hole. But there will be those that try and
change only to be struck down by the government.
The world will know longer recognize the smell of
the sea, the smell of the wind through the forest.
They will only know the smell of acid and death.
Wars will ravage in the name of religion scaring
the world. The soil that once gave life will be
used only to scatter the ashes of the dead. No
longer will plants provide fresh air. No longer
will oxygen exist on Earth, only fire and flame:
only progress. The knowledge of the old world will
be gone. Industry and progress will only be the
knowledge the people need. The world will become
as desolate as the moon. Dry, dusty and dead
should the rape of Earth continue.
