Details |
Brian Olinger Poem
The last cigarette in the box
Its ash falling slowly towards the ground
In its spiral decent, the flicker
Light slowly fading out
Unbeknownst to me, the bloom is still full
I have been locked away placed behind a mirror
I cannot see out
Only the reflection within
How did I awake in such a place?
Did I willingly walk in?
Or did some mirage dissipate languishingly
In its wake, I find only the black rose
Beautiful and silent
Copyright © Brian Olinger | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Brian Olinger Poem
I danced with death for a moment,
Dressed in a sheik metallic guise.
In the absence of life's petty presence,
Death spoke freely for a while.
In daily struggles, humanity forgets
The joke of life in his mirthless glee;
Bending low, with ragged breath,
Placing on pedestals man's fecal dreams,
Life yells, "Weep for the death of your fathers"
Death whispers, " Be glad,
They no longer struggle to navigate mirages' seas."
As death approached, he whispered to me,
"I will tell you of your falling
And the dispossession of my seed
Remove the blindfold from your eyes
I will show you the nation of the bloody sea.
"Life's children are the offspring of greed,
White is their traitorous color
The vacuous absence of all life's hue.
Abscise, corruptor of creation,
Destruction is their vice,
Their sport is the murder of Twilight's Children
Stumbling, drunk on the blood of mutilated nations.
"The seed of life finds no rest,
Pushed by an unseen chain-gang
Never full-- the need for destroying
Kill till they are killed by their zest
Yet they find no rest in their mutated cycle
Death does not embrace them in peace
They are cast out to reemerge as the rancid seed."
I stumbled out from metal's jaws
Grasping the air I breathed
I Begged death to stop, but with a smile he said,
"My silence may soon be complete,
Listen to my warning for the moment
Judge if my visions deceive
For your path may lock you out eternally.
"My teaching you have heard and understood
Life's path would ensnare your spirited search
Though your heart is held by Twilight's Children
Your hands are bloody destroying my seed."
Copyright © Brian Olinger | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Brian Olinger Poem
I can explain in metaphor
The stories of my life
As a person who exists
But live without control
Introducing the countless
Characters of my life
Each one a segment
In muted reflection of me
Acting upon the stage
Of life's mediocre tragedy
All engaged in conversation
Forced to exchange pleasantries
Living in shame
Raging from the half-truths
That dresses their lives
Afraid of their lust
Found in meaning
The pain of life
Yet in the quiet hours
When the curtain falls at last
Disrobed from their prejudices
Entwined in a single course
When their masks of preferred guise
Are removed to show the same source.
Copyright © Brian Olinger | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Brian Olinger Poem
Ask the listless and forlorn
Where are you going?
They seek redemption
And crawl to find it
On their bellies passing through
The three shores of hell they cross
Horrors and aberrance they see
Struggling for salvation
Pass through the archways of gods
They are hollow
Search the lettered wisdom of man
The book of lies indeed
Pity and scorn,
We kill our saviors
But redemption we seek
Copyright © Brian Olinger | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Brian Olinger Poem
Look For Beauty,
You will find it
Rooted in sorrow
Clinging to the vines of pain
Seek it in the sands
Blowing in the ruins of insane
Treasured eyes of darkness
Spoken from the full lips of light
Touch the dark caverns
In the curves of sinister delight
Crest her hills to the palace of martyrs
In the house of 1001 nights
Copyright © Brian Olinger | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Brian Olinger Poem
I stand in the forest
Of headstones marking the fallen
Where a statue freshly erected
A monument of the proud man
I stood and watched the podium
Where Rich men made their speeches
Thanking the young and restless
For dieing for their riches
They spoke of heroes
And valiant acts
Service to country
The young's embrace of death
As I struggled to climb
To stand on the podium
As a guest and visitor
Another pawn for their riches
I stepped toward the mic
To speak of my brothers
The valiant in life
The martyrs of our nation
I looked at the faces
Young men and women
Smiling at me
The next crop of victims
Tomorrows heroes standing in front
With heads held high
Ready to charge and kill
The next poor brown nation
I opened my mouth
To warn the next generation
Of the hero's way of life
And the white stone that marks his monument
I spoke at last, though words left me
And stepped through the curtain
Where the blindfolded crowd
In menacing silence, awaited me
I saw futures martyrs
Skeletons of tomorrow’s dead
I told them in the hope
Reject our father’s course-- the path to infamy
If life is to be restored
We must burn our father’s illusions
And their bloody blade
To escape the proud delusion
There are No Heroes
Only Dead Men.
Copyright © Brian Olinger | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Brian Olinger Poem
What is this race I am in?
Struggling towards destruction
Must I break everything?
Mind, body, soul
Blind strangers stare at me,
Pointing to endless roads
Map of sorrows and delights
Selling the secrets to grounded flights.
With conscience Blindfolded,
I sell my soul
To kill the meekest pure soul.
Copyright © Brian Olinger | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Brian Olinger Poem
I came to
Strapped to the clock
With wires and meters
Stuck into my flesh
Measuring and monitoring
Dishing out to me
In small capsules
Moments of time
Forced to swallow
To observe
Whitewashed landscapes
Blurry images in harsh light
Numbed by an eternal today
Living in a moment
The never-ending sameness of seconds
Narcotic of repetition.
Copyright © Brian Olinger | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Brian Olinger Poem
Long have I disregarded the child in my mind
He clamors for relief
Begs but the old intellect keeps him chained
Afraid of the change he brings
Fear, the stranger brings
Distrustful, demise will come in the new
How long can the ancients keep the child at bay?
Or will they cage him till he has aged
Virility faded, docile and meek
Faded and finally one of them
The child’s life is short yet alive
To the old, their death is merely preceded by the dying
The child escapes to burn in the flames of life
But he lives to see the untold
Copyright © Brian Olinger | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Brian Olinger Poem
Driven by hunger's thirst
I wade through the pasts fallen,
With blood dripping over my eyes
I see devils posing as the guardians of peace.
I step forward blindly
To look into the beast's eyes
I falter; he is a reflection of me
A mirror to the hate of being.
How to dehumanize a face?
In the hopes of forgetting my own
I walk towards realities looking glass
Remove my eyes-- shattering the stranglehold
For the reality I see comes from the beast in me.
Copyright © Brian Olinger | Year Posted 2005
|