Poetry

Calling humanity on the horizon
A shadow of the reaper casting his dim across the errant rays of sun
Catatonic, not asleep, alive but dreaming
Behind the calm mask of manly serenity, he is screaming
Mad- madness the meek are making
Below the boiling frog, the pot is quaking
Awake, to find he is in a coffin
the hell of our own making, the core of corruption
Sheep Herded then sheared, weeping with pathetic eyes
With this there is no compromise
It is a dreadful surmise
To his own surprise
He finds it was better to have been sleeping

To Eternally Recur-
Here Odysseus lost his way
Among sirens songs, he is shipwrecked at the waning of the day
A haggard old soul carries a wayward wisdom
Dark always overpowers light; cold the warmth
Life is an abortion, now comes man's time, the species is done
The hairless ape
Only a mistake
Metaphysics, open your legs
Beautiful Ideal- you are raped
I’ll leave you beneath the smeared lipstick and duct tape
The old man falcons with an eagle
This end is only a preview
All convulsion, usurpation, of one Time into another
For another cosmos this dying universe is mother
Birth shall be post mortal