How near doth Time now stand upon the verge!
Upon our days is fallen Judgment's shade.
One woe grows still, then doth another surge,
And close behind, a third comes undelayed.
Then bitter cold shall strike, and famine loom,
Our hopes shall pass beyond the shrouded bier;
The city that we cherished, once so dear,
By Heaven's will, and war, shall meet its doom.
Believe not, people, that peace shall ever reign,
For Time already gazes into naught;
No end at all thereto shall e'er be brought—
The war returned, forever to remain.
The stature of the oak tree
Measures holiest if judged
By natural proximity to sky
But will never reach heaven
And thus by ego of man,
That which extends beyond
But not upon highest
Must be leveled to uplift mankind
Axe to trunk yields the great length
The most capital for human venture
To build the path he may climb
Faith in founded access to sky at last
What we know of uplifting oak
Begs us to recall the sequence
That while man constructs the stair
Too is oak in which he will be buried
For the sacrifice of dear oak
Who was exalted in godly breath, light
Promises that thou who dare tear down
May be buried low, below root, below feet
And when river rise, when mankind pride
In terrain built higher still
It is man who shall sink deeper
As oak, most faithful, did not defy own nature.
Author's Note
In February 1258, the Mongol army led by Hulagu Khan sacked Baghdad, the capital of the Abbasid Caliphate. It marked the end of the Islamic Golden Age. Libraries like the House of Wisdom were destroyed, and countless books were thrown into the Tigris River until the water ran black with ink and red with blood. Scholars, artists, and civilians were killed. The destruction ended centuries of science, medicine, and philosophy, and showed what happens when cruelty replaces knowledge and forgiveness.
When Baghdad Wept-CM
Cruel hooves marched, and cities bled,
Cold steel struck, and scholars fled.
Wisdom burned while rivers ran,
Words turned ash in Tigris span.
Mercy slept while towers fell,
Golden age was lost to hell.
Yet kindness waits in hearts to rise,
Forgiveness blooms in humankind eyes.
My Worst Enemy Is Anger
On the fire of anger I burned alone,
With dust of anxiety and a heart of stone.
Rage broke the peace of my beloved kingdom,
And left me wandering, lost and numb.
Like history did when two cities fell,
Hiroshima and Nagasaki knew that hell.
Buried in dust, in fire’s cruel breath,
Humanity died in a second of death.
Terrifying rays turned day to night,
Everything to ashes in one white light.
Generations faced the weight of rage,
A scar written on time’s own page.
Poisoned skies became a nightmare cover,
Anger destroyed what love could never.
In one decision, worlds were torn,
And innocence was left forlorn.
Yet one tree remained, its roots held tight,
A ginkgo standing through endless night.
No leaves, no hope, but still it grew,
A quiet vow that life breaks through.
So I lay down anger, my worst enemy,
And choose the green where I am free.
From ash and sorrow, let mercy bloom —
Let healing, not rage, fill every room.
The mind set of this world
has lost all sense under humanitarianism
which beggars a belief system to function properly
As the suffering has increased we become prisoners fighting for the lack of charity to speak
Understanding righteous in today's government
our mission is to promote sacred doctrine
that which houses the welfare of our people past and present
Our future as it stands as humans looks bleak
so many suffer hate by promoting unholy vices
Perfection is not in mortal man to begin with
it comes from the love of God
Forgiving our wrongs and making them right
wisdom has many shades and colours to draw peace
Upon the loam where ancient shadows creep,
a severed vein now yields its vital breath,
and writhes upon the floor in torments deep,
consumed within the iron jaws of death.
No gentle breeze attends its rapid fall,
nor sunlit grace to soothe the tearing pain;
It strikes the rotting moss and scarlet wall,
drenched in the fury of a weeping drain.
Yet watch the fiber twitch, the pulsing spine,
as blind-eyed beetles strip the tender skin,
and carve away the green with teeth malign,
to feast upon the fever locked within.
The forest laughs while slowly torn apart,
and grinds the winter's refuse in its heart.
If you have to ruin me,
don't do it under kitchen lights
or in parked cars
or over phone calls filled with silence.
Take me somewhere the sky is endless.
Somewhere the stars
have been dying for years
without anyone noticing.
Let me look up at something ancient,
something that understands
how beautiful things can disappear.
And if this is the ending,
if I have to lose whatever version
of me still believes in forever,
then let it happen there.
Because I think
I'd rather break apart
Beneath constellations
Than inside another room that forgets
To Dust
Upon the plains of Babylon he raised
A mountain wrought of gardens for his queen,
Where dolphins swam in frescoed halls, and spring
Did wear a diadem of endless green.
Thus love became an architect of stone,
And pledged to conquer time with patient hands.
Yet desert drank the brick, and ages passed.
The earthquake spoke. The fire from heaven breathed.
Soft-footed time came forth and made his claim,
Till marble learned the humility of sand.
The Black Taj fell before its arches rose.
Knossos beheld her painted lovers fade.
And ink, once sovereign on the crumbling wall,
Now spells no word but what the wind recalls.
What then remains? The column and the name,
Both borrowed by the air and given back in dust.
Empires are footprints which the tempest erases,
And mortal crowns return unto the earth.
But love, enduring, doth refuse decay.
Though siege may burn and river may devour,
Though centuries may grind and tombs conceal,
That which was built of heart shall not be lost.
I gather, therefore, this pale dust as writ,
And read therein the proof that love outlasts its house.
The weapons of mass destruction, is in the hearts of men,
living in the darkness, festering up our sin.
When hate, hurt, and anger, are the stressors of our day,
when our hearts are disturbed, the world is gonna pay.
All these things are boiling, stirring in the heart,
the weapons of mass destruction, about to do it’s part.
Anger, hatred, and revenge, begins to take it’s form,
arising up inside us, is a very toxic storm.
The power of our words, the weights that they bare,
weapons of mass destruction, now flying in the air.
There is power of life and death, in our tongues you see,
with weapons of mass destruction, we destroy both you and me.
A burning anguish settles within my soul
I apologize, I believe this is the end of me.
The end of my passion for this, all of what was my being
The flame was once anger,
Now, it has burned down to a small crisp
Leaving only a degree of black smoke.
Australia, you promised plenty
Buildings replacing trees and views
Concrete covers the sacred lands
Developers grab even more
Energy draining quickly
Farmland naked where once bush grew
Green landscape now just scars
Humble pleas go unheard
Justice lost behind closed doors
Lost children in a lost land
Money begets murder done
Nobody left to save this land
Open scars where miners dig
Prosperity flows away
Quietly the land cries
Religion an early cause
Scars everywhere we see scars
Trembling mountains fall in pain
Understand the land that cries
Victims silenced by gun and law
Wisdom from elders taken
Xeric land now appears
Yearnings to change the past
Zephyr sweeps a damaged land.
Beyond the Wire
another day in country
we shuffled out beyond the wire
our platoon’s mission
search and destroy
the air was hot and humid
like a sauna with no relief
the jungle closed in on us
wrapping us in a green cloak
blocking out the sun
Johnson, on point, was
out in front probing
for the enemy
hoping the day
would end peacefully
we spread out
lessoning our chances
of becoming an easy target
our heavy packs weighed on us
as we humped twenty klicks
without a break
our jungle fatigues
failed to wick sweat away
from our bodies leaving
us feeling as though
a monsoon had soaked us
we reached the village
and began searching each hootch carefully
ripping up flooring looking
for the hidden enemy
when we had finished searching
we pulled our Zippos from
our pockets and lit
the dry straw that served as
the roof on each one
and watched as each one roared up
in flames like a Roman candle on July 4
our lieutenant signaled for us to
take a break and we sat among
the debris some smoking
cigarettes others smoking reefer
our day was a success
no one was
going home in a body bag
A dictionary of tragedies, My next step deeper in vain than my last.
Whats the point of running, if I run in a circle back to my past.
Every new path I take, a new mistake I cant unmake,
A demon in all past lives, so now I burn myself at your stake.
I'll stop breathing, because you said you loved the colour blue,
I paint on and on until my fingers fall apart, but the red blood still shows through.
Happiness doesn't repel me, I suffer to hunt it away,
Without pain who am I? In the burning fire I find my way.
My agony is art that I'd rather die than stop making,
Ill patch myself up, but not so much that id stop breaking.
I walk into a storm, board a boat already drowning
I rip the open the stitches, Trying to salvage the sting.
Beauty doesn't come from within, it stems from my veins torn,
Scarlet, wine, maroon, in blood my prophecy scorned
Woman should never be destroyed because of a breakup, someone that wants her to suffer after a breakup or divorce.
Woman have gotten destroyed, they have suffered loss, loss of quality of life, loss of children and money, all because they wanted to make them suffer.
Women throughout history, have suffered, continue to suffer, losses and memories, because of a love that went bad.
Women should always be treated with love, given the respect and love that they deserve, setting a precedence for all to follow, making life have a clear pattern.
Women are the ones that bring life and spice, making things nice, so love and lift and care for women, and never hurt or make them suffer.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
Hannah bashed her dolls’s faces on concrete, ripping off Barbie dolls’ heads and cutting their hair so they looked ugly
She also killed little lizards on their yard. But nobody ever saw her doing those things and she always looked very calm and relaxed
Destructive emotions running in her head she was furious, very angry and mad
But having a perfect pretty face and blonde hair nobody could’ve ever imagined that she could do something so bad
Hanna had become very good at wearing her poker face to hide what was going on inside her head, turmoil and terror
She had practiced to smile for a long time in front of the mirror
Hanna had felt real rage starting to boil inside her when her abuser had found a girlfriend
How dare he replace her like that
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