My Dear Enemy
Here I am
In full armor
My quill is full of arrows
My bow is taunt and ready fro battle
My horse is pristine and shiny black
I am your enemy
As you are mine to the death
I shall take my bow and arrow
Pierce you through the heart
My king shall praise and honor me
For many battles so well fought
I know I have to shoot my arrows
To save my own pitiful soul
My dear enemy
I just long for you to know
Every arrow, every drop of blood
Every soul that must depart
Due to my fine skills and sharp arrow darts
I die along with you
I know not who you are
Yet a weep for your lost soul
I imagine other times
Maybe we would sit for tea and cookies
Laughing over words of glee
You and I so battle ready
I am sorry for all the battle scars
The blood that flows so deep
Every arrow that leaves my bow
I am sure it too, also weeps
My Dear Enemy
I prey today that before the dusk
One of you will have a finer bow
My heart no longer has the will
To fill my quill with arrows so
Today, I let one of you end my day
No longer can I live on this way
All my fine arrows fired
Have finally been on target
My Dear Enemy
I love you as any man
I have only love for humanity
I pray one day
Our Kings and Queens shall feel this way
As off the battle field, I am carried away
King Vlad Redux – Second Cold War
Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin’s grimy fingerprints on current history
are for him nothing to gloat about—au contraire I say emphatically:
His actions bespeak one who’s not an architect for peace—not at all,
rather a quite deceitful dictator and a harbinger of a Second Cold War.
King Vlad’s old Soviet-style actions are clear for all who care to see,
and make no mistake about it—he’s without remorse and a soul to boot.
A Master of Malarkey and an International Bamboozler Supreme, he
certainly is, with a menacing image and not one iota of conscience.
King Vlad risks a Second Cold War with his violation of international
law concerning the blatant, illegal annexation of the Crimean peninsula.
With his brand of new style Soviet adventurism on the march, the Old
Soviet Bear has been resurrected anew—and it’s hot on the prowl again!
King Vlad’s new spirit of nationalism for Russia is not at all progressive
as evidenced by his current war on certain ethnic minorities: Jews, Tartars,
Armenians, Gypsies—to include anyone who chooses to resist and protest
against his new age fanaticism rebranded anew in the twenty-first century.
King Vlad’s lineage to and proclivity for the old Soviet Union and its star
cast of past gangster luminaries: Lenin, Stalin, Beria, Molotov, Brezhnev,
and Andropov—to name a few, are quite telling since they reflect the real
nature of his psyche and the tragedy he brings now to the world stage.
And lest we forget, the innocent souls of the murdered passengers from flight
MH17 in eastern Ukraine who cry out, as do their families, for justice from
the criminal thuggery and hooliganism perpetrated by King Vlad in support
of proxy groups that do his evil biddings soaked in lies, treachery, and deceit.
King Vlad takes pleasure in fulfilling a fanciful role today of the old Soviet
Bolshoi Nachalnik (Big Boss), whose historical antecedents from Soviet Big
Bosses of past fame, doesn’t augur well for future democracy in New Russia,
and doesn’t align with the precepts of good governance and human rights.
King Vlad’s treachery and deception are certainly open for everyone to see
as he executes his plan of disrupting the balance of the current world order.
We all should be forewarned of the clouds of tyranny and aggression that
could be unleashed one day on the European continent and the world today.
King Vlad, despite very strong objections and economic sanctions imposed
by Western leaders and diplomats, understands only one word rendered so
poignantly in the German language: die Macht (or Power), which lurks ever
behind his public mask and psychological makeup as a former KGB officer.
King Vlad’s actions reflect his virtues of lying, denying, accusing, rejecting,
and criticizing—all poison arrows in his quiver as a Master of Prevarication.
His real mask is that of a Monster who had the very best Soviet teachers and
wishes to tilt the axis of his New Russia on a collision course with the West.
And so Generalissimo Stalin . . . how do you like your nasty little boy now???
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 30, 2014)
My head is a box of secrets
My nerves are tuned to my dreams
If I could change this sorry world and
were to tell you of my plans
I would speak a universal language
If you heard my message and
came with your own secrets and dreams
I would be invincible
I am the gentle voice of Peace,
the the living symbol of Harmony
Friends resonate with my energy
My head unlocks the mysteries of life from
where the source gushes
I need the power of generosity
I need the art of forgiveness
The old house haunted by false deities all at
once fell down.
I found miracles in the dust, said
to be the hope of things to come
A good and abundant spirit
Ah, for a power to change psychic forces
My lady, the God of Storm and Frenzy is on the move
Mama his occult nature frightens me.
I am nearer to the truth
My poetry is an instument of grave importance
Goddess, I am- but not exulted
The nerves still strain for this sorry world
My wit is a power for change
Sweet mama, I have seen the shadow
I have been generous
I have been forgiving.
But still the world revolves around hatred
Frighten off Wotan !!! the unleasher of dark passions
Until Heaven and Hell collide
let there be no talk of Archetypal fate.
I fear the notion of a collective unconscious
filled with psychotic types withdrawn from reality.
Goodness must overcome - mark my soul
They come from a different era
where patriotism is a just cause
they would fight for the true blue
never mind who was right or wrong
they stood staunch and egos proud
their chest out, backs straight and chins up
they come from an old style of thinking
I fight today as my father and grandfather did too.
fighting for an eye for an eye tooth for a tooth
I will die to serve my country even if its a lie
if you try to invade our land
we will come and conquer you
we are defenders of the truth
but the old timers forget
and the young ones have a narrow point of view
there was a time when the immigrants were Irish, Italians and jews
racism was rampant and that hasn't changed
Christians today still preach
'Jesus is savior they say repent your evil ways
pushing their rhetoric just like the roman empire did
amazingly America seems to be doing the same
history seems to repeat itself time and time again
war, religion, oil and what we perceive as freedom
we invade again and again and call it defending democracy
yet the intelligence comes from spies and other governments
because they have shared interests in different types of policy
they all carefully choose their words
because one slip of the lip could trigger war as it has happened before
todays war on terrorism is a campaign designed to instill pain
and un-trust to drain our resources from us
And our leader claimed up front this is not a religious war
yet he paraphrases from the bible we'll get those evil doers
you see bush fooled our religious leaders too.
he used their belief in Jesus he tricked 'em all just to get their vote
he claims he's a born again Christian and this Christians embraced him holly
but then one day bush spoke to Jesus and asked what to do with Iraq
Jesus responded Invade that country
Now dont get me wrong Jesus was not about war
he taught of peace, love and compassion
however his message has been twisted and turned over time
and history shows the hands of Christian religious leaders are always bloody
because they twist the truth to control dictatorship is always the goal
Bush had been plaining war before a judge handed him the seat
on his first day he signed a bill into law prevent any criminal charges against him
This evening I listen to a Rock 'n' Roll band
Their track is Civil War, as our world now expands
To us it's the same size but to others they despise
For the want of greed exists in their killer hungry eyes
Where do I start, to say of their evil spread
A different starvation leaving the world in evil dread
It's not our today's but our yesterdays years
That our history tells us, of our everlasting torn tears
Cambodia, the Lebannon, and Sri Lanka's Indian sun
Rebels who demand better at the end of a gun
Guaetamala and Peru with their Shining Path
Villagers in terror decrying it's ever last
Democracy is our power in it's controllable exist
Like the Shining above, how long will our future paths persist
Recent news in the Arabic World, has taken tyrants by surprise
For decades they have stolen with their torturing infidel lies
I could go deeper and deeper to describe these evils acts
In wanton blood spillage, to increase civil war torn facts
For this is the world we live in, it appears we determine to live
Maybe in our lifetime it will be on our doorstep, we open, our lives will sieve
I am never jealous, but theirs an evil in my eye
Step forward and cross me, and soon you'll wonder why
No matter where you are, it doesn't matter where you hide
For I'm the clever one, who'll find you and watch you slide
There are some things that you will never own, nor I, so read my words
For if I have to find a reason, my actions are seldom heard
These actions I speak about, are the watching of your life fade
And the squealing through your last breath, your body in dying cascade
I am never jealous, but theirs an evil in my eye
Step forward and dare to cross me, and soon you'll wonder why
The world is small enough, it takes nothing for me to try
I can only ever promise, take what is never yours, and you will rightly die
She was an estranged angel
On the backbone of a boar
She never put her hair up
Was a missile without a war
She broke a wild stallion
With the motion of her hips
She stifled a chameleon
With the color of her lips
She drowned a hundred hearts
With the ocean in her eyes
She never stayed for dinner
Had a trick bag full of lies
She's the chairman of your love
It's the least you stand to lose
Reinvested into futures
The kind you'd never care to chose
She shone just like a savior
To a crowd of men like me
In the dark and dreary alley
She convinced us we'd be free
She locked our souls together
With chain of solid gold
To wander through the streets
Starving, in love, and cold
On rainy nights she'd tell me
Of the millions she would make
We pounded solid granite
Until it'd crack, until it'd break
She delivered forty hammers
On a bull, without a sound
She had hundreds of 'em stowed
Somewhere buried in the ground
We bore our chains and sang it loud
We wrote a thousand songs
God save your children's virgin eyes
From seeing such a throng
She promised me the world inside
A thimble she'd unhide
Upon completion of a house
Built on the black hillside
She promised me so many things
I believe I did lose track
But if I could somehow free these boys
they'd sure be headed back
To living simple there in town
No vixen to demand
Just a table for to drink at
And to play a couple hands
But the hand that feeds the bread
Now riddled so with grubs
Would never be allowing that
A world with beds and tubs
Her power is a mighty thing
That crushes bone and brow
It brings one to believe it right
To stumble, kneel, and bow
We're just too worn and sore
To ever execute our coup
Best rest until the morning comes
There's plenty of work to do
When two choose each the other
Having decided this, their fate
A bond, a pledge, a vow replaces
That which, unchosen, cannot wait
Even when it requires a warrior resolute,
Vitality deathless, and sacrifice continuous,
Eternal must the pledge be, or
Risk betrayal's scourge sinuous.
It is at the pit, against the fiery horde
That Absalom dulls the finest sword
This is what it takes to stand at my side
Antagony to injustice is my cause
Knell my soul to abandon, divide
Eidetically my failure would resound, preside
Sorcerous dreams expounding my flaws.
Indebted to peace, yet still facing war
Soliloquy sweet, punished yet more.
When the lashes pernicious slander my spirit
Have you the stamina to fight weaponless, naked?
Ardently ask the goddess Irit
That throughout the nightmare, you survive unwakéd?
Impassioned, immortal, immoderate, rhetorical
Would you, could you, if so, should you?
Illusion or real, my fight is defense
Leave destruction behind
Lose selfish pretense
Give willingly blood to the unjust blow
Impatiently wait the night for the dawn
Vicious dark creatures attack love's glow
Effervescent, they dissolve at the light, and pass on.
Because violence feeds violence, and hate cannot withstand love's rapture.
Reality is lost and I fear…
That someday…somewhere so near…
I will fall amongst the people so dear…
I fear…that I’ll just be another one…
Another one lost…
I wonder what the cost of my life is
not to get too political…
But I want to know what the cost of my life is
Is it money…is it land
I do not own any of them…I’m just a simple man
I remember…When I ran across your land…
I remember when I kissed my grandmother’s hands…
But you ripped my away from her…From my home
you ripped my away from my heart…you ripped me away from my soul
I feel helpless…I feel low…
It’s hard to play along when I know…I have no role
I have become a slave.
After all the love I gave.
When I look at my country…people I want to save
When I look around me…people I need to change
It seems like a hard thing to do…
when the range of people is way bigger than you
Freedom…oh how much I’ve heard that word
Freedom…oh how this idea has become absurd
when God gave us life…
He warned us only he can take our lives…
Oh Syria…my home
Oh Syria…my all
Oh Syria…what did they hurt you for?
Oh Syria…I’m here…I won’t let them hurt you anymore…
I am Proud to be your son…
In summertime, the ivy climbs,
and hides the castle wall.
The king dreams of late,
that the sea is so great,
and yet - his boat is so small.
As swift as a fox and
dark as a raven on wing,
seven hundred soldiers march
into the valley of the king.
Long overdue, a battle ensues
flanking the powers that be.
Children cry, and good men die,
the monarch is now on his knee…
Soon the horsemen alone
try to maintain the throne.
But the long way around
is the shortest way home.
The evening is filled
with chaos and smoke,
and the kingdom is
stunned by it all…
Soon the sun will go down,
and in spite of his crown,
the king will undoubtedly fall…
His rival’s strength
by a king overtaken,
his life is now but a pawn.
His authority lifted,
the power has shifted –
an era of glory is gone…
The mind is the most powerful of them all.
As a matter of fact it's what makes the call.
But are we so blinded by what we see?
Caught in the news, tabloids, and the things on T.V.
Society making people weak.
Because they're trying to get in,
to fit in; wanting to be seen.
Our lives are vanishing before our eyes,
but it's covered up by all the nonsense
and believable lies.
How long will this continue?
How many lost lives?
Who will stop the bleeding?
comfort the cries?
We are walking our own journey
with our own baggage.
Messed up and transformed from all
the harmful damage.
Still there is no one willing to step up
and take the challenge.
to destroy the evil desires of these harmful
However it is never too late for us all
to hold hands.
To demand for a change and take a strong
Reaching out to those who are in need;
by giving up our own wealth and filthy greed.
Taking a stand for those who can't do it themselves.
Being there for support and to bring help.
No matter how near or far a person may be,
just open your eyes and try to see.
Not the news, tabloids, or things on T.v
but the lives of those who are suffering.
Through the fog and filthy air—
Which hurts my eyes just to see,
I come with something to declare…
I bring no one but myself; still, beware!
Beware of what may come after me
Through the fog and filthy air.
I come with bad news laid bare,
I come with lost souls—mad and hungry;
I come with something to declare:
Build high the wall, let them flare;
Lest all of them break in, running free!
Through the fog and filthy air.
Believe me what awaits out there:
They are not what they used to be,
I come with something to declare.
And, oh, I see them rushing from there—
Legion of hell which no one can compare!
Through the fog and filthy air
I come with something to declare!
Melt away Racism – Zamreen Zarook
Various ways the populace onset,
Launching always begin with an inset,
Day by day every mind starts to feel upset,
But it is sky rocketing on every sunset.
What is the gaining out of this discrimination?
What is the meaning of this aggravation?
They find this as an anticipation,
But it is considered as the state of aberration
Tongue is given under an oath,
He gave hands and legs not to see you as sloth,
Let your positive mind handle them both,
Definitely it will wrap you with a golden cloth.
Show respect and be perfect,
Happiness and Elysium will be your deflect,
It’s the exact time to give the inject,
Then, there won’t be a single of deflect.
Star Wars Rebellion:
A galactic game of Risk—
Luke Skywalker, Han Solo,
Leia, Mon Mothma.
Young Luke Skywalker
Has to confront Darth Vader,
Becomes Jedi Knight.
Han Solo pilots
The Millenium Falcon
With friend Chewbaca.
Very strong diplomat,
The rebellion’s heart and soul,
Great at recruiting.
They are able to move their
The Emperor Palpatine,
Dark Lord Darth Vader.
A.K.A. Darth Sidius,
Dark Lord of the Sith.
Was Annakin skywalker,
Seduced by dark side.
Build mines and refineries,
Fight for resources.
The construction yards
Are used to build everything.
Must be defended!
To create armies,
Need training facilities.
Must be defended!
To build more starships,
Build or capture space stations.
Must be defended!
Assassins, Spies, Commandos,
Gained by colonization,
To gain VICTORY:
Capture the leaders.
What’s the real goal of all wars?
Idiotic Stupid Islamic Slugs
Ignorant Satanic Islamic Lemmings
In A Dark, Dark Room
Tormented in a dark, dark room--
Smelling the foulness in the ground;
Flickering shadows in the gloom
That feed upon me, all around
Bound hand and foot, with neck exposed,
Tormented in a dark, dark room,
I only slept, when coffins closed,
With nightmares of impending doom.
I heard above a muffled boom
My eyes assaulted by the light
Tormented in a dark, dark room
Never more will I fear the night
I signed on with Van Helsings Free,
Hunting vampires from tomb to tomb.
I rescue others, lost like me--
Tormented in a dark, dark room
Russians and Ukrainians facing off.
What could possibly go wrong?
Bloodshed with many dead!
Virus of evil injustice
infected our land.
It took harmony of peace
from the people.
Our land is terribly ill.
She is asking for help,
and wants to be cured
by heavenly love
Blame the devil for the 298 murders:
those poor lost souls who were aboard
flight MH17 in the clear blue skies
far above the nation of the Ukraine.
The evil old serpent we call Satan
has taken human form and calls himself
Vladimir “Vlad The Mad Cad” Putin.
He is the same soulless stone-hearted beast
he always has been but is far uglier than
anyone could have ever imagined even in
the most nightmarish dreams of our youth.
The devil indeed lives among us and he is
out for more blood, including yours and mine.
Where are the animal rights people
when it comes to the raghead nazis
of the Islamic State in Syria and Iraq?
No donkey, goat or sheep is safe
from mass rape from these loathsome
devil worshipping rat bastards.
Now that there are over thirty thousand
of these murdering brain dead dumb asses
running around in the desert over there
they have branched out to raping other
four legged creatures including
horses, cows, dogs, cats and even pigs.
Speak up for the persecuted animals
of Syria and Iraq all you bleeding hearts
from the free world nations of planet earth.
This expanse of land has seen things.
Things all of us can only see in dreams.
It's seen war, it's gotten it's fair share of scars.
Bombs bursting, bullets throwing sand into the air like it's a volleyball tournament.
The sand running red with blood silently mocking our arteries.
This magnificent stretch of land has seen heroes' tears fall; dropping to their knees while sadness envelopes their fallen brothers but also looking up to their beloved whilst carrying a ring in their hand.
It's seen bright days, the sun glimmering over wet sand, footprints of past loves being washed away as the sun smacks the horizon.
This expanse of land...has seen things we can only imagine.
In every war
propaganda has spread
many lies and fabrication
to rally support and justify war
to a misguided nation
Feeding fear hate and patriotic pride
for lawful genocide.
Power self interest and greed
motivate those in the shadows
to sell their souls
and squabble like fat pigs
from the overflowing troth of profits
from which they feed.
The real enemy is not
The man women or child
on the street
through the powers that be
that lurk in the shadows
They played reverse psychology with his mind
He felt so stupid
Like everything he had ever believed was a lie
The auras are bad, we continued to say
They are not good
Test the spirits…test the spirits
He went haywire
He pushed away
How could we blame him?
His body was not his own
Come to grips, we told him
The doctors don’t understand
But still we must not jump to conclusions
You are strong; you have God
The upper hand
If I lift this bed will you think otherwise?
Lift the entire world and I will see nothing of you
You are nobody compared to him in my eyes
Your wonders are for wonderment alone
You wander and then you stay
You prey prey prey
Those that prey desire nourishment
Those who prey lack strength
And to grab onto the youngest
Mistaking him for stupid and weak
That is below everything unworthy
That is just pathetic
Whatever you are
You are not him
And surely not worthy of a line of acknowledgement
You hurt my closest friend
And it is on
You will be the reason
The fire of my claws flare
You will be the very thing I will devour
It preyed on his innocence
It made itself his friend
Acting the hero
Burning him to nothing in the end
Come to grips, we said
No more writing
No more imagination
The auras are not good
He is not good!
Laura is not good!
Life life life is not good!
You prey on a sick, young boy
You are messing with a demon like me!
I will tear you to shreds for the next flaw you set fire to!
Believe me I will hide more under the timbers
And I will crawl out
Spewing perversity and hate
And drag you in with me
True colors will surround you
I realize you have the power
To kill my loved one
I stake alone
I hand the burning torch to you
And with fire surrounding me
I spit and hiss
Take me instead
I know you want all
And all live in me
You cannot turn down my offer
And I will destroy me
Too young to die
They take a boy, too young to shave
Who has never lived his life
While his mates are chasing girls
They fill his life with strife
They send him off to a brand new war
Over some damned fools Ideal
I don’t understand their wars
And I guess I never will
The folk who like to run the show
Or most of them at least
Have never even been to war
They’ve never felt the beast
As he rips right into one’ intestines
That hollow hole of fear!
Each leader should be sent to war
Then the picture might grow clear
Then when they send young boys to war
They’ll see the whole damned show
The weight of endless terror
And then maybe they’ll know
What it’s like as a fine young man
To be sent out there to die
He might then know, how a mother feels
When she’s lost her little guy.
1 August 2013 @ 1443hrs.
A kestrel dips into an updraft
thinking he knows the world
through silent valleys
around the earth
through the wind
The creature soars ever higher
in great swoops and dives
the horizon curves as it eludes vision
the stars pulse their siren
but thrill denies
their ambient warning
Gust to gust each fades
quicker than the last
whispers carry the weight of wings
and their soulful song breaches sanity
prayers of rightful good
where petty purple banners
crest twinkling hearts
The last thermal ridden
last lyric dies
as flight’s drone fades
upturned wings alone
the sky empty oblivion
as the sun aligns its beady eye
to the looping path of the bird
Two brittle forms
grapple in light
which blots out the senses
what can never be touched
smites the naive bird
an archangel buried
in a crypt
six feet deep.
The Ballad of Tich Tomas
A dog was howling in the night
Perhaps she knew the truth
That Tich would not be coming home
This dog needed no proof
That the man who she loved so
He’d come to her no more
Because Lance corporal Thomas was
A victim of the war.
Now Tich, he was a country boy
His farm it was his life
A boon to his community
He’d give in times of strife
He learned his trade in farming school
With honours he’d come through
Then settled down to work his farm
That’s what he planned to do.
But then, one day it came to him
The news he did not need
He’d been called up for army life
He went off without heed
To do his time in Puckapunyal
To get him set for war
He soon made it as Infanteer
So he joined a fighting corp
He worked real hard and gained a stripe
This showed he had potential
He earned his skills in jungle fighting
And then there came the call
For he to go to Vietnam
To five RAR he was sent
Charlie company was his unit
When off to war he went
It was in April sixty six
Our man went into battle
There in the Phuc Tuy provence
Those guns did roar and rattle
Our Tich he fought real gallantly
So brave was he, but then
The shrapnel done it’s evil job
He joined the fallen men.
They brought his body back to those
Who were waiting for him there
The whole town came to welcome him
And helped with grief and prayer
They buried him with all the honours
That came to fighting souls
Who died to keep their country free
Courageous in their roles.
More honour it was placed on him
By the country where he’d fought
They built a statue in his name
And his likeness it was caught
By the sculptor who did honour him
And carve him into stone
And now Tich Tomas guards the park
As he stands there all alone.
If you’re ever down in Nannup town
Go to the park that’s there
You’ll see the statue of young Tich
As his spirit everywhere
Will fill the souls of those who see
This fighting man, so brave
Who’s body lies so peacefully
In his own town, in a grave.
of the megabyte cavalry
along private roads
on the plasma periphery
on official commands
Stewing a cauldron
a festering foment
from acid-soaked cans
say the oracles
so buying a check
but electing the cavalry
leaves the infantry wet
Gazing out upon dusky barren moor,
Where gray grass grasps the air
Finding no purchase but sad allure
Straight stalks elapse their endless despair.
Teased by tales of golden reach
Tricked by gales, whose song they preach.
Redtail’s velvet wings breach the sky,
Maroon lips who kiss the grass
Stirring the song, its desperate sigh
Catching the words, her beak of crystal glass
Behind her, midnight shadow draws
Fells her beauty with unseen charcoal paws
Scarlet tears dampen the earth below
Nurture the roots held by dusty truth
Finally, the wind, gray grass’ will bestow
The hawk once, now the fountain of youth.
Litany of silence reigns in dusky glare,
Each blade bowed in mournful prayer.
Tonight I sleep in the jungle
Jaguar’s creep through the bush
We have dogs to hunt them, but in the end they are no match
I pull my poncho over my head to keep the rain out
We are not hunting jaguar’s but men
The men are on ambush
Put in the field to destroy
A probe if you will
The jaguar is only hunting to live
As the night grows colder and the bugs increase their intensity
The roar in my ears becomes unbearable
Did something move in the bush
Was it a taper or a spook?
My watch is almost over. Do I dare go to sleep?
There is something out there and it is evil…….
When wind’s silence
heralds boundless oblivion
and the trembles of cracked earth
raise the dust of tears
dried by the boundless footfalls
of sallow flesh
When a thread of gold
brings unearthly thought
and the misconception
of suns fallen
drives foolish men to their knees
in unending tremors
An army of one
frees the air from his fingertips
and stays not his opal blade
as it bites the rotted gray necks
of kings released from their wrongful bliss
by his trembling palms
An army of one
unconstrained by nature’s volume
freed by the sin of his naivety
yet, bound by earth’s oldest secret
as the scarlet sun weeps
its bloodied tears
An army of one
his cloak worn through
by the acid blood of his deception
and his bones stilled;
the branches of a dying oak
which no longer caress the wind