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Poem
In the red desert of the rising sun  
In the surrealness of its silence  
The sky turned grey and ominous  
Amidst the blackened  rain   
As the suns fell into the morning sky  
Beneath the trembling ground   
In the deluge of blackened mass  
Monster rises  from the tides   
Tsunami of the raging mind  
In the quiet before the storm  
Rumbling in the distance  
Darkness in its murky mass  
Converting shape shifting  
Shorelines into water world 
Of debris   
Dark surging water  
Encompasses  all in its path  
Scenes of children playing  
Turned to terror of the day 
 
Warning bell in the distance  
People clinging to each other  
To higher ground they seek   
From the fishing villages  
with nets still in hand  
Near waters edge  
All that changed in  
a flash  of day   
levied gates that could not hold  
crumble into the dust  
concrete  skeletons of landmarks  
vanish into smoke  
reactors in the distance  
smoldering with the  
creaking steel  
sinks into the burning sea  
as clouds of smoke rise  
in the wind   
towers of babel fall  
in shock waves of its rage  
open tanks explode   
into vapor rising  
people casted  in mud  
wounder aimlessly  
looking for the ones they love   
silence of the morning after  
dreams of Hiroshima  
invisible fallout  
of death where people live no more   
citizens of the concrete deserts  
echo ghosts of children  
within the history of its place   
warnings went unheeded  
without the logic of heart and mind  
of faustian bargains laid to rest  
on their future lives   
bureaucratic walls erected  
to silence those who spoke   
withholding  information 
from those that need it most  
behind their smiling grins  
in the metropolis of its gollum's
moloch's idols do their bids  
their machines of worship  
of non living things  
is their golden calf today   
readjusting through normalities  
of  their routines  
the walking sleepers  
make their way   
metaphors morph  
Into urban landscapes  
From nightmares of the  
Unconscious     
serene skies  
of glittering moons within its 
shifting planes 
dream like exodus  
where boundaries of self  
melt without its center  
individuality fades  
into the stillness of its quiet  
memories of  their generations  
wiped away with the tide   
ravaged by their fate  
community struggles  
with the will they bare  
lines of people on the shore 
holding candles to a stary sky 
tossing flowers to the sea 
where harps sing to liquid moon 
seasons breath fades away in the night  
to voices of the dead and ghosts laid to rest  
buddhas hand in whitened robes    
ceremonial rituals and rites begin  
to pass away their dead  
sandals and walking sticks 
in the wake of bones remained 
wandering spirits 
transmissions 
to another world  to 
the place we all return 
to open skies blue as waves 
through the meadows 
of autumn lives 
flowers lie down  
to transparency of early winds 
souls set free amidst the clouds 
within the shadows of kurosawa's dreams 
prophecies for the living 
to return to ones beginnings 
and live life as its meant to be 
simplicity in harmony with natures way 
look within to rebuild again  
to live within thier means  
to put trust back to the land 
and live in balance once again
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