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Casey Strong Poem
Endlessly the widows weep
For their adored lovers lost
To their final, eternal sleep;
This is wars cost.
The reasoning for their loss they can’t dispel,
For in reality there’s no protected to keep;
Of this irrefutable knowledge they can’t quell,
Forever floating in their emotional sea they steep.
The loss of these souls is abundant,
Annually growing dismally deep,
To the point the numbers are redundant;
Endlessly more and more widows will weep.
Copyright © Casey Strong | Year Posted 2013
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Casey Strong Poem
You're a creature so vile.
At your mere sight
I have to choke back the bile.
I'm getting wise to your gimmick,
You're astride with every step of mine.
Everything I do you mimic;
You're nothing more then an idiot pantomime.
When my gaze catches yours
You look straight back.
It's that stare I abhor,
For the emotions it lacks.
Your stare is unflinching,
It burns to my core.
My nerves near panicking,
Filled with spectral horror.
Overwhelmed with paralyzing fear.
Reality seems so unclear.
Why are you only here
When I peer into a mirror?
Copyright © Casey Strong | Year Posted 2012
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Casey Strong Poem
Within the streets the bodies burned;
No human hand available to put ashes in urns.
What lead to this state was fear, hate and violence.
Rendering everything, normal and known, to utter silence.
Why did this happen? And how could this be?
All that flourished is now decimated, pertaining to society.
Those who ruled shunted their power and that all prevailed.
Bequeathing metal and chemicals to air, the sky and earth were assailed.
The eruptions, aground, incinerated and seared;
Within these milliseconds, Lucifer leered.
Betwixt his lips issued a whisper,
His tongue lolling about in a serpentine slither.
“Mere men need no malevolent coercement,
For evil lurks within their conscious contentment.
The destruction was bestowed upon them and their land,
Not by mine, but by their own hand.”
Copyright © Casey Strong | Year Posted 2012
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Casey Strong Poem
She isn't real.
Near mere measures of perfection,
Upon the pedestal to be placed.
All faults beyond my exception;
Within consciousness falsities laced.
Wanted to feel,
Mortal intimacies elicited by her proximity,
To finally feel wholeness fulfill.
Cover my existence with normality,
Ultimately gratifying my eternal thrill.
Inability to deal:
Simple presents pose problematic,
Appearances irrational without reason,
Alterations of plans appear automatic.
My heart, ignoring my mind, commits treason.
Heart will seal.
Now my inabilities stretched past feeling.
Outward perceptions beyond dealing.
Consciousness and soul left reeling.
Uncomprehending of the things she's been stealing.
She isn't real.
Copyright © Casey Strong | Year Posted 2012
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Casey Strong Poem
The crisp-cut, full moon hung high in the sky,
Staring down upon him like a demon eye.
Through the foliage a column of moonbeam fell,
Pinning him in its center as a scream did expel,
Reverberating and echoing like a tolling bell.
Unknowing if it came from him or another,
He stood stock still, repressing a shudder.
At that moment on the outer edges of his sight
City light filtered through the trees like blight on the night,
Neither bettering or worsening his situation, place nor plight.
Forever followed by a malevolent being,
One so inconspicuous, rendering others unseeing.
Fear frozen, he listened, felt and silently stood,
Unable to tread and thread through the wood;
Though, with its open passage, anyone could.
Desolation and depression then danced in his head
Like the dust motes within the moonshine overhead;
Their swirl and twirl did hypnotized and hinder
Bringing forth his dark, death harbinger,
One composed of an inner specter.
Since flight proved futile, his pursuer closer than his heel,
He abruptly decided to embrace the ground and kneel.
Within his consciousness there was a drastic upheaval;
A sudden exhumation of pure, long-dead evil.
The metamorphosis complete; purity lost the fight.
He then strolled down toward the city light.
Copyright © Casey Strong | Year Posted 2012
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Casey Strong Poem
Yellowed moonbeams flooded slantingly through the forest,
Crisscrossingly spearing and slicing the night,
Whilst throwing the foliage alight,
As I work to finish my task, brimming with fright.
Though familiar with the sight I behold
The moon ray-lit woods looked fresh and anew,
Whilst continuing to do as I’m told
And allowing my spade to strike true.
What of this spot, this hollow
If my body tires? Becomes spent?
Wanting to defy and not follow,
Ever knowing of his intent.
No choice but to labor to the bottom, the end
To bare my last, shaky breath.
For his gun will be quick to extend,
Making me give up the ghost and take death.
Nearing the last few spades of cold, forest ground,
Wondering if I’ll ever be found
Under a large soil mound,
Whilst tears trace down my face awaiting his guns resounding sound.
Copyright © Casey Strong | Year Posted 2012
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Casey Strong Poem
Early yesterday morn,
Just before the coming, darkening storm,
While watching its preceding wind rustle the leaves,
I heard a constant whistling rendered through the eaves.
Whilst it’s piping breath filled my mind and ear,
Commingled with a whisper,
Seemingly neither far or near,
My eyes beheld something only described as specter.
Standing just beyond the outer fringes of the moor,
There seemed to be a shadow with a human contour;
Neither swaying with the buffeting gale
Or taking notice to me or the winds rising wail.
For some length, motionless and undisturbed,
I watched and pondered;
Strangely, rebelling against natural instinct, unperturbed:
Not in the least bit floundered.
Early yesterday morn,
Just after the passing, dark storm,
While feeling faith and facing that that I abhor,
Myself ready for the burial of her I adore,
Whispery echoes of “I love you” whimsically soar,
To my ears, from the outer fringes of the moor.
Copyright © Casey Strong | Year Posted 2012
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Casey Strong Poem
My Sydney,
From here to eternity,
You are my savior, my sanctity.
When my soul was shadowed
You were rendered hallowed.
Lending me strength to fight
By being my beacon, my guiding light
Within my inner battle so stark,
One abysmally abhorrent and dismally dark.
Silhouetted in your shining radiance,
You beautifully beckoned my presence
With your mere auras essence.
Copyright © Casey Strong | Year Posted 2013
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Casey Strong Poem
From humanities onset,
Before consciousness and intelligence met
Or our ever-present, fear-ridden fret
Of our own self-induced, war-torn threat,
Unseen by eyes unobservant,
There’s been an eternal cosmic war event.
Aloft let eyes stray
To the grounds of the bloody fray
Between the entities called night and day.
In the battle of dawn
Day demonstrates its brawn,
Thereby banishing night from sight
By flooding the sky with its light.
In the battle of twilight
Night becomes days plight
By battling to reclaim its ground,
Inevitably winning without an uttered sound.
This conflict fought with undying devotion,
Devoid of any kind of emotion,
It’s not their perpetual damnation
But is their purpose: our salvation.
From humanities onset,
Before our consciousness and intelligence met,
It’s been unquestionably evident,
Though to eyes unobservant,
That life couldn’t survive without this cosmic event.
Copyright © Casey Strong | Year Posted 2013
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Casey Strong Poem
I.
One week to the day,
His beloved was taken away.
Within the confines of their edifice
He told himself, I can’t go on like this.
Numbly, at his sides, he clenched his fists;
While contemplating, at that very moment, to slit his wrists.
He extracted a knife from a kitchen drawer
And sat down cross-legged on the linoleum floor.
On the first attempt he hesitated and it hurt like hell,
The blade slipped from his grip and to the ground it fell.
Though the wound botched and shallow it did the deed;
Oh so very quickly he did bleed.
Blood coursed out of him pooling about on the floor.
Fleetingly he thought, in this world I’ll be no more.
With light giving way to darkness, the end was near.
Yet, with her in his thoughts, there was no fear.
Death being on him in any second,
He knew for sure, when it arrived, he’d be in her presence
II.
Suddenly, he was jolted awake in a peculiar place,
Awakened to the stare of an unfamiliar face.
Then he took notice to millions of legs carrying bodies about.
At that very moment he began to shout,
“What is this place and why am I here?”
Not a single person seemed to take notice or hear;
They all just scooted and shuffled around.
I’m going to find out what’s going on here he was bound.
He got to his feet and decided to head west;
Though, with the sun straight overhead, it’d be a guess at best.
Standing still for some time to plot the course of the sun,
He decided it had moved absolutely none.
Awestruck and questioning, Where am I at and how can this be?
It seemed, to him, to be a complete impossibility.
As his blurred vision clarified, he scanned the terrain
And the sight he caught filled him with horrified disdain.
Several unscaleable mountains, on three sides, flanked him,
Leaving the only other route blocked by a bottomless chasm.
Then he took notice to the innumerous faces’ expressions;
They all had the same look of immortal depression,
Brought on by shambling about aimlessly for eternity.
He knew, without a doubt, he’d eventually give in to the same conformity.
Suddenly, a notion came to his head:
He thought, am I alive or dead?
Or is this some kind of laboratory?
No, he told himself, this is purgatory!
Copyright © Casey Strong | Year Posted 2012
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