Short End Days Poems

we must walk the path of honesty in these dark dangerous times


In these dark dangerous days
we must walk on the path
of honesty and truth
if we don’t 
we won’t have a remote chance
of living through these end days
based on pensvity 101 prompt using the words path, honesty and remote © 2 hours ago, john Cosmos Aller...

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What is lockable is the rapacious,
the blood scratched door,
an already gaping mail box.
What can be opened is the plunder,
the clasp that cracks.
We need keys
for the iron hasp of blood,
a skeleton to pick open
the red mouths of jugular jaws,
to break apart the deadbolts,
the chain-linked sorrows
of dead-end days....

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In her eyes declare early mornings surprise -ship sets sail at sunrise -cargo's lost of soul- No tide insight-deserted nights I walk- As shadow plight carry's low end days never-land - Should have known- this event soon would come- all roads dread gridlock- In her eyes-shipped off I'm sent away- In her eyes I fly by sorrow's  candle in the dark-
- Mark Miller 03/06/2018...

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It is a plasmid wraith of thickened odors,
its organs, the sticky slops
of dead-end days.

It hungers for discarded dregs,
the dispensed with and disposed of
are its haunt,
scraps of yesterday trail behind it
as grey tentacles no longer able
to feel.

Soon the trashmen will
ambush the bins,
heave them into a reeking wagon,

yet it will return tomorrow
smelling worse,
for nothing absolves us 
from its un-recyclable curse....

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Look, Look the winter is dancing
in mid hot summer
causing sweat to crystallize on the faces 
of daisies, tulips and oak leaves;

Folks are screaming to the Lord
for mercy
for recognition
for more, more, more of something
which name they cannot call;

Dancer drink a toast to themselves
a toast to their beginnings
a toast to their end days;

My heart opens to start the day
cold winds blow slicing the atmosphere
trembling the earth’s center....

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Reflections

As one’s shadow comes face to face with end days,
reflections, upon the walls of one’s memories hoard
dance across the surfaces of shards of shattered mirrors,
singing with a voice from within those splinters, projecting.

Images of past lives, yesterday, today, tomorrow,
at the speed of light, across space time continuum,
telling stories of what was, what might have been.
Reflections ???, projections ???, definitions ???

B. J. “A” 2
December 2nd, 2018...

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Conflicted

Could it be possible to fain ambivalence ?,
in a world full of pain, in pain without romance
and love from the heart and soul of one's desire.

All the while, this one's heart is still on fire,
pining away for the one who, a funeral pyre
is the last place this heart, she has relegated.

Realization !, that is where this one has been fated
to live out his end days in quiet desperation.
For so many, it has become our coarse, our destination.

B.J."A" 2
October 11th 2009...

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Conflicted !

Could it be possible to fain ambivalence ?,
in a world full of pain, in pain without romance
and love from the heart and soul of one's desire.

All the while, this one's heart is still on fire,
pining away for the one who, a funeral pyre
is the last place this heart, she has relegated.

Realization !, that is where this one has been fated
to live out his end days in quiet desperation.
For so many, it has become our coarse, our destination.

B.J."A" 2
October 11th 2009...

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Who dares rouse Leviathan,
the Giant beneath the heaving deeps?
This world now teams with Ahabs
whose heaping anger never sleeps.
Each one wants to hook its jaw
and each to press its tongue;
to try its rich and fragrant oil
and see it bound and beached and dumb.

Poor soul captains on fragile ships
vainly sharpening the barbless spear.
The Whale scoffs beneath the waves,
rising to teach all wisdom through fear.

Soon the Brute will breach and blow
and send each Pequod down below....

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