294. Autumns’ Aria

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The wind blows the leaves around,

And over my face they flow,

As I lie here listening to the sound,

Of the rustling autumn leaves.

I wonder if he thinks of me,

And if he cares I’m gone.

My heart, it is a fairy: free…

To dance upon the wind.

Does he love me. Does he not.

I count the falling leaves.

Woodland spirits tell me naught,

Of what time it now is.

I wonder if he’ll soon be here.

If he’s noticed my absence.

My skin aches to hold him near,

And draw him in embrace.

It’s so cold without his warmth.

I can’t but reminisce,

Of the days wrapped in his warmth;

Sheltered from the cold.

Spirits tell me to forget.

That he’s not going to come.

They lie! He won’t forget,

And neither shall I!

He’ll smile and take my hand,

(When he finds me lying here),

And side-by-side and hand-in-hand,

We’ll walk these woods together.

I know he’ll be here soon.

I’ll abide here and wait…

Patiently, and sing a tune;

And listen for his voice.

The leaves will blow across me,

And continue to fall around.

Yet no matter what the hour may be.

He’ll come for me……

He’ll come for me………….

K. Aldaya, 3/28/15

Picture/GIF:  by killedtheinnocentpeople on Tumblr; http://killedtheinnocentpeople.tumblr.com/post/114583718454

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293. Trust is Earned by Interest

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Can you handle the truth,

Or will you run away?

Can I tell you the truth,

Or should I hide the truth away?

I will not offer willingly,

Though if you were to care.

I may let secrets free,

And leave my soul bare.

No one in my life as yet,

Has asked to know me more.

Most people are content to let,

Truths stay behind the door.

So if you don’t care to know,

And could never understand it.

I’d rather not waste time, you know,

Explaining why you don’t get it.

K. Aldaya, 3/27/15

Picture/GIF:  from Vampire Diaries; Nina Dobrev as Elena Gilbert; http://cdn1.theodysseyonline.com/files/2014/11/16/635517598713850371879042812_fi.gif

292. The Eternal Staircase

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Down the stairs I wander.

In the dark of night I ponder.

What lives within its’ darkness.

My curiosity grows fonder,

Of the blackness which veils,

Revelations and lost tales;

As my legs shake they continue.

Step by step one voice prevails.

The air is cold and wet,

As the darkest black is met,

And the shivers up my spine:

They’re not mine…Oh, they’re not mine!

As the shivers overtake me,

I yell, “What have you done to me?”,

And a breath upon my ear replies,

“You know, but will not see.”

A scream echoes inside,

And I crawl to the rooms’ side,

As the dirt upon the floor,

Invades my every pore.

The dark reaches in me,

As I hide in my body.

Tears stream down an empty face.

Skin is stone, and I am free.

I close my eyes and there…

In the dark a form is there!

I see it. I can see!

Then a sudden light blinds me.

I awaken in my bed,

Still feeling that doom and dread.

I sit up to the side,

And in my hands I rest my head.

I lift my head and sigh,

And it turns into a cry.

Satans’ face breathes on mine,

And growls: “Sing me a lullaby!”,

“As I rape all that is mine”……..

–I walk the house today,

And every door and every way,

Leads down a dark staircase;

So down I step, and step again, as memories replay.

K. Aldaya, 3/26/15

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://ak.picdn.net/shutterstock/videos/4628543/preview/stock-footage-creepy-possessed-man-in-the-basement-attacks-camera.jpg

291. Dreamcatcher

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Intertwine the clouds tonight,

And form a magic spell;

To fish the dreams from the air,

Floating down from where they dwell.

The stars are the dream makers,

And the winds are human souls:

Soaring through the skies in sleep,

In nightly dream catching patrols.

The peaceful night, though beautiful,

Has an obvious downfall.

The darkness, it lacks clarity,

And into some dreams dark does fall.

Yet if enough souls wish for it,

And chant their hopes tonight.

The wind may form a magic ring,

Which lets through only light.

Let’s intertwine the clouds tonight,

To form a magic spell;

And fashion a moonlit dreamcatcher,

In the sky where all dreams dwell.

Tonight let’s conjure a magic spell.

K. Aldaya, 3/23/15

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/20100000/Reach-For-The-Stars-daydreaming-20119104-436-500.jpg

290. False Impressions

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How can one explain oneself,

And be seen for who they are?

How does one express oneself,

Without being misunderstood?

Without receiving a scar?

Words are not enough to show,

What prevails within the heart;

And through art one cannot know,

The intention of the painters’ hand,

And truth held in their art.

For all men see each other,

Through a lens of perceptions.

Never seeing each other,

And what swims beneath the skins surface;

Drowning in misconceptions.

Don’t put souls into a box,

And label that box: “Inane”.

No soul should be in a box,

When they’re already trapped in a brain…

And can’t escape to explain,

What really dwells within their domain.

K. Aldaya, 3/20/15

Picture:  by Ekaterina Zagustina, also known as Katja Faith: http://katjafaith.deviantart.com/; http://ego-alterego.com/2011/07/sublime-pieces-by-ekaterina-zagustina-katja-faith/#.VUE09JO8jGs

289. The Nameless Speech

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The man said to the boy one day.

“How is it you can’t see?

That holding onto the past and its’ pain,

Is not the way to be?”

The boy looked to the gentleman,

And softly he replied.

“Does energy die when it’s changed?

And does its’ spark subside?”

“Well no, replied the gentleman.

You speak to the facts in this case;

Yet how does this concern my assertion?

Your query seems out of place.”

The boy retorted with a smile,

“All things once set in motion.

They cannot be taken back;

So I reject your notion!

When evil deeds are done,

(And yes, good deeds as well),

That energy must go somewhere;

In someones mind it must dwell.

Pain spreads out more pain.

And love spreads out more love.

So when pain fills up my head,

Don’t ask me to ‘feel’ love.

The pain, it is now mine.

I know you may not understand,

And I’ll not burden you with it;

For I won’t be the devils’ hand.

I know more then most,

How important kindness is.

The universe is in a battle,

And I know which my side is!

Don’t ask me to forget the pain,

For the pain is part of me.

It made me who I am today.

It lives inside of me.

One day if I live in love,

And I try to spread some good;

Maybe someday it’ll return to me…

Maybe bad will be conquered by good.

There is no way of knowing,

If time will be kind to me;

But time, it stops for no one…

Even those pained as me.

So my point, my good sir,

And what everyone should know,

Is once pain is spread…

Pain it will sow.

Every evil deed that’s done,

It has a price to be paid.

So always try to care and love,

Don’t let the worlds’ hope fade.”

The gentleman stared at the boy,

And nothing was replied,

As he grabbed the child into his arms,

And held him while he cried.

-The universe, it is not fair, and all things have a cost.

For a battle’s always waging,

Yet the war is never lost.

Until the end of human life,

The fight’s not fully won,

And the casualties should remind us all,

Of the cost of each deed done.

K. Aldaya, 3/18/15

Picture: “Just a Little Boy” by zznzz on Deviant Art; http://zznzz.deviantart.com/art/just-a-little-boy-272998865

288. The Town of Sol Silenst

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Tired the wanderer of night seeks refuge from the cold.

The chilly air of midnight soaks and takes a-hold.

Every thought becomes a scream which must be silenced.

Oh how the wanderer smiles at the sight: “The Town of Sol Silenst”!

What providence imparts to them they gladly will accept.

For no man with an ounce of hope would a kind hand reject.

So off the wanderer went with a bold and renewed stride,

To seek a face, a friend, and bed sheltered from outside.

Across a large arched wooden bridge they pleasantly walked.

The river below glistened and babblingly talked.

They stopped to listen to its’ voice and thought: Oh, how smart…

Nature is…it’s flow and beauty, which always lifts the heart.

On they walked until they reached the center of the town,

And though it was now morning, and the sun shining down;

Not a soul could be seen on the streets shuffling along.

Not a voice could be heard from anywhere; not a laugh, or shout, or song.

They wondered what could make a town so silent in the morn.

There certainly were people here to make the roads so worn.

Footprints spread out everywhere and ended at each door.

Yet not one face in a window seen, and not one tap on a floor.

When like a fearsome cat pouncing on unknowing prey.

Screams erupted everywhere piercing the peaceful day.

The wanderer fell to the ground covering their ears in vain.

Their heart beat to the tune of the echoed fear and pain.

Then all at once silence again as each door opened wide,

And townsmen and women walked into the day outside.

Each townsmen looked straight ahead with an air of duty,

And off walked each without a word; appearing cold and snooty.

The wanderer could get not one to listen or acknowledge,

And the town hall now looked busy along the main roads’ edge;

So they walked into the town hall to some sort of celebration.

Everyone was laughing and conversing with elation.

Again the traveler could not find any who’d care to hear them,

And had to move, or the townsmen would, have walked right into them.

When accidentally, just that happened: two shoulders hit each other…

They looked into the others’ eyes and really saw each other.

The man, he stood and frowned a sec, before his smile returned,

And without word his arm swung out; and without reaction he turned.

The man went back to celebrating with a big smile on his face,

And the music played on ’til a dripping-sound silenced the place.

Each townsmen stopped and turned lacking expression,

To glare at the wanderer: “The Great Indiscretion”.

The wanderer stood there with one hand tightly gripping the spot,

Where a cut had been made and was dripping out a lot.

They looked at the townsfolk and then shouted out, “Why?”.

In silence they soon realized today they well may die.

They slowly backed up while surveying all their sides.

Toward the exit they stepped and slowly made strides.

The room was packed tight and each step held a price;

For when close each villager swung and would slice.

The wanderer soon decided to just run for it.

As whether it be life or death one must commit.

They ran, jumped, and dodged; and outside emerged…

The bloody mess of a human which from hell has been purged.

The wanderer ran and ran until the town was long afar,

And the bridge from midnight was now not very far.

They breathed in and out to the smell of the river…

So close; their fear finally escaped in a shiver.

And as the sun shone hot and bright at noontime that day,

The wanderer made it to the bridge and knelt in dismay.

For on the sides of the bridge a creaking could be heard.

The sound of gunny sacks as their contents stirred.

Each blood-soaked sack stabbed deep into the heart,

And a piercing scream flew out from deep within…from their heart;

For in each sack was a small child dying in the sun.

If helpless babes be treated such…Oh hope..there is none!

The wanderer yelled to the universe, “How can this be so?”.

“How can these humans be like this? How is it they don’t know?”….

That souls are more important then status and selfish pursuits;

As death greets all eventually and pulls out all lifes’ roots.

All that’s left in the end are memories and the soul.

So what will happen when they’re puppets and no longer have a soul?

When outcasts and outsiders are always deserving abuse,

And the helpless children in the way are pawns for adults misuse?

The wanderer lied down on the bridge tired from the flight,

And hoped to wake again, and to live another night;

And as their sight faded they saw the sign and cried,

For on it read, “The Soul Silenced”….

And then they died.

K. Aldaya, 3/7/15

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://www.wallpey.com/wp-content/uploads/bridge_dark_wallpapers.jpg

287. A Word Is Just a Word

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Here we are and there you are,

Yet a word is just a word.

Spread through the air and floating there;

They seem to you absurd.

Here I am and there you are,

Yet a word is just a word.

For after they’re sent, without discernment,

They may as well not be heard.

Here we are and there you are,

Yet a word is just a word.

If words were blood, and I wrote in blood,

Would my thoughts still be absurd?

Here I am and there you are,

Yet a word is just a word.

No matter what’s said, or I feel is bled…

From my veins…you see a word.

Here we are and there you are,

Yet a word is just a word.

I beg for help but you can’t help,

When a word is simply heard.

Here I am and there you are,

Yet a word is just a word.

Save me! Please save me! Yet you can’t save me…

For a word is just a word.

Here we are and there you are.

Yet a word is just a word.

No one can feel or know a word’s real,

Until their heart has heard.

Here I am and there you are,

Yet a word is just a word.

You can’t save me, and cannot help me,

For each word is just a word…

To you, my pain’s absurd.

K. Aldaya, 3/3/15

Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://www.layoutsparks.com/1/56610/the-wall-between-us-1.html