326. You Gave Me the Key to Your Door

Girl+outside+door+2

You gave me the key to your door,

Yet I know not what to do,

For I lack the courage to use it,

And conviction to walk on through.

I know I’ve always been a fool,

And as a fool I well may die,

Lacking courage and perseverance,

For deep down I am but a lie.

I am but a broken shell,

Of skin and self-defeat,

Whose eyes bleed out realities,

Most find too indiscreet.

Doors may lead to anywhere:

To heaven or to hell.

Yet for me the path is set.

There is no escape from hell.

I long to fly on angel wings,

Mortal souls to save and bless,

Though if an angel I once was,

I can no longer recall the caress…

Of hope and kindness on a soul;

Of trust and innocence.

For who would trust that a heaven’s door,

Would appear in hell’s province?

O, it is but a mirage of what might well have been,

If only sins remained with the sinners,

Instead of defiling all men.

It only takes one demon spawn,

To drag more angels down,

And strip them of their salvation,

And choke them ’til they drown….

On the apathy of the masses,

Drunk on ignorance and pride,

Who never really care to look,

Through their doors to the outside.

When angels look away and hide,

For fear of falling too,

How are the fallen not to fear,

What even the angels do?

You gave me the key to your door,

Yet I know not what to do,

For I lack the courage to be let down again,

And conviction to reach for you…

When you’re not even looking.

K. Aldaya, 1/2/16

Picture: http://www.novahtijusticesummit.com;  http://static1.squarespace.com/static/551f2c5ee4b07d5916c70972/t/559406d9e4b0fc1e2ed46e37/1435764557634/Girl+outside+door+2.jpg?format=2500w

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325. Viral

Thank God they are crazy, right?

Or then you’d have to deal with it all:

The facts of life and death of souls…

Your own mortality, and lack of control.

Give them pills and call them insane.

Tell them their brains are at fault.

Don’t deal or learn from humanities’ mistakes.

Invalidate, manipulate, kill, and assault.

Thank God they were born defective,

So the truth you’ll never have to face:

That people like you fill the madhouses,

With the silenced voices of a viral race.

K. Aldaya, 12/28/15

324. Tragedy Incarnate

michael lloyd cemetery

I am the ghost of who I used to be,

Who is haunting this world now, for eternity.

I’ve lived a million lifetimes. I feel it in my bones;

The aching of sore fingers spent manuscripting tomes.

Stories of humanity… of tragedies and victories;

Of poverty and destruction. Wealth and vanities.

Will the story ever end? And what will be it’s ending?

I’m tired of thinking and repeating. My soul needs time for mending.

You and I, we are the story of the universe.

We’ve written it out, in our blood accursed.

Will time end and its’ confines of aching bone and skin.

Prisoners: most ignorant of the cage we continue to live in?

We all write on…another chapter for the universe to read;

So it can expand endlessly, while we (mere) mortals just bleed.

Bleed planets, and bleed the stars…Our souls are etched with the scars,

Of the universes’ beauty;

Written on each gravestone, and carved from fleshly duty.

K. Aldaya, 12/16/15

Picture: By Michael Lloyd ; http://www.lightstalking.com/the-shark-tank-and-what-you-missed-this-week-on-light-stalking/