442. Into the Sea

Once upon a time there were two men born out at sea,

And though began on different ships; Each stared down their destiny.

As sailors are want to do, by time, or just sore luck,

They fell into the churning sea when a raging storm had struck.

They both knew of the Isle nearby. All the sailors knew it well.

The Isle where they were headed, ‘fore their ships sank ‘neath the swell.

The Isle was where wealthy men built mansions out of gold,

And lived in luxury and peace; Ah, truly a sight to behold!

If only they could reach that place. They knew life would be grand.

They looked at the stars that night, and oriented themselves toward land.

One man had a mile to swim. The other: nine miles more;

Though both set off with conviction, to live and reach that shore.

The first man soon made it there, and lived until old age.

He wrote books, and sculpted art; And his story is now ‘all the rage’.

The second man: he drowned at sea, less than a mile from shore.

He’d fought hard and long for those nine miles,…likely harder then any man before.

Yet sailors tell his morose tale over drinks and platitudes;

Laughing at his misfortune with disparaging attitudes.

“What’s the meaning of success? What does it mean to fail?”,

One man asked as he sat down to converse o’er another round of ale.

“You may say the first man is clearly the success.

For he made it to the Isle, and lived in grandeur and excess.

Yet, the first man only swam one mile….so is success really the case?

Is success the result of outcomes, or is it more about the race?

For I wonder why the second man, who swam for eight miles more,

And didn’t give up for those nine miles, is a failure for not reaching shore?

He may have never reached the Isle. He may have died too young.

Howe’er he lived and fought far longer, then that man on societies’ tongue.

The man who swam the further…who fought until his last,…

Is he not the man who succeeded the most?

For in the end, all men’s ‘die are cast’…

Into the sea.”

K. Aldaya, 6/9/18

Picture: Artist:? http://picturefordesktop.com/stormy-sea-images-desktop-wallpaper/

Advertisements

441. PTSD

The world is so busying telling me,

How I should feel and who I should be,

That it’s never, even once, stopped to think,

Whether I’m not exactly who I’m meant to be.

Maybe I will never be like you.

Maybe I’m not supposed to.

Maybe asking me to be something else,

Is the reason I can’t get through.

Maybe I would be okay,

If the world accepted what’s different.

Though, no matter how accepting it claims to be,

Some of us leave too much of an imprint.

We make a mess. Stand out too much.

Cops trail us and build up a case.

“It’s odd you were at the crime scene,

Even odder that your prints were all over the place!

Guilty by association, my child.

You’re guilty for showing-up: time and again.

You’re a victim, but perhaps an accomplice as well.

Did you not know it would drive you insane?

Now you are just as responsible.

Only criminals return to the crime!

You could have been normal…like us,

Instead, you’ve wasted this courts precious time.”

Yet, if we may speak to this court, sir.

We feel guilty and shameful each day,…

That we haven’t moved on…couldn’t move on…

And fell down, and apart, and astray.

We didn’t know how. We still don’t know now,

How to escape from that place,

Though if we could one day do so,

As you’ve stated, we’ve already left our trace;

A trace of guilt. A trace of our crimes,…

Of guilt by association.

No matter what we may say to these crimes,

The world will ne’er forgive the implication.

The implication that we are criminals.

That not being like you. Not living like you,

Is a bloody-bed of our own making;

For there’s only acceptance for crimes you live through,

But ones which stay, fester, and remain,

Which turn us wretched, and drive us insane,

Are the ones which society won’t accept.

And refuse to consider,…o’erlooking the brain.

Yes, the world is so busy telling me,

How I should feel and who I should be,

Yet has it ever wondered why we’re not free,

To be who life has made us to be?

No, I am not like you or them,

And no, I will never be in the end;

Though just because I am different,

Must I be rejected ’til the end?

Placed up on trial again, and again to defend…

Why I am the why I am?

I’m a lifetime of sounds and sights you can’t see.

Yet, men like to spurn what they don’t understand,

And charge for the crime of PTSD.

K. Aldaya, 5/23/18

440. Presence

We reach out for purpose,

Cutting through time like a knife.

Surveying each step with elation,

As if God’s creating life.

Are we more than rotting thoughts,

And orbiting electrons in atoms?

If I stand still or take one more step,

Will it really change any outcomes?

I want to believe in more than this.

In more than my petty musings.

Yet, despite my wish for my words to remain,

I can’t cease their death by refusing.

If I write, or walk, or take a step,

Or if I choose to protest.

There will still be something there to lose,

Whether idle or over-obsessed.

So, I reach out for purpose,

Whether it cuts me in it’s course;

For despite my ruminations,

Presence is an unstoppable force.

K. Aldaya, 5/22/18

Picture: Original Source Unknown; http://keywordsuggest.org/gallery/129704.html

439. Lost

I’m lost inside.

Won’t someone find me?

In the echoes of time,

I wander in effigy,

Of who I was long before,…

The hallways shifted;

And I was ne’er able to find,

One crack through which light sifted.

I’m here looking,

For some way to escape fate.

Is anyone searching? Has anyone noticed,…

That the hour has become late?

And I have not been there with you.

My eyes, they make no sound,

Yet if you’d have truly looked at me,

You’d have seen I’m not around.

For whispers resound through the tears and years:

“I am still not found”.

K. Aldaya, 5/2/18

Picture: http://sfwallpaper.com/image-post/7520-lonely-images-14.jpg.html

437. While You Sleep I Lie Alone

While you sleep I lie alone,

And cry, curled up, in my old home.

In the corner, where I lie,

I cry, and cry, and cry, and cry;

Yet never does the house fill up,…

The tears, they always dry right up,

And leave me all alone.

While you sleep I lie alone,

And drift away to my old home,

Where even tears wave me goodbye;

As swiftly as they drop…they dry,

As if they never fell at all.

Time ticks and forgets it all.

Nothing left, just dust and bone,

And memories left all alone…

On the floor.

K. Aldaya, 4/25/18

435. Dream on a Star

star-gazing-1149228_960_720

In the darkness dreams take flight,

Through the airy skies of night,

Into the arms of stars beyond,

The gaze of mortal sight.

Where they may blossom into hope,

To hold us when we can not cope;

As time’s unending legacy,

Surpasses human scope.

So dream your dreams tonight, my dear,

Without worry. Without fear,

For long after this song is sung,

Those stars which I once dreamt upon,

Will brightly shine for you.

K. Aldaya, 4/11/18

Song Link

Picture: https://pixabay.com/en/star-gazing-starry-night-astronomy-1149228/

433. I Walk Away from Yesterday

trees-1030853_1920-300x294

I walk away from yesterday,

With hope upon my back;

It weighs me down as I make my way,

Toward a future, and there is no turning back.

What if I can not take the weight,

Of what will and won’t be.

Will the journey be worth the fate,

That the choices made, will cultivate for me?

I know not where this path will lead,

Nor how to grasp each day.

All I know is it’s best to concede,

Then stand in place, never moving either way.

I walk away from yesterday,

With hope upon my back;

It weighs me down as I make my way,

Toward a future, and there is no turning back.

K. Aldaya, 4/6/18

Picture: https://pxhere.com/en/photo/676096

 

431. I Am an Illusion

I am an illusion.

What’s seen is not real.

I’m simply a construct,

Of what you think and feel.

I am an illusion,

Of hope and consequence,

Blowing through the universe;

In the absence.

I am an illusion,

Which wishes to be more;

Ever searching for substance,

Where it’s ne’er been found before.

I am an illusion.

Blink and then move on.

I was never really here at all.

Like time, I’m both here…and gone.

K. Aldaya, 3/29/18

Picture: By Norvz Austria; https://xetobyte.deviantart.com/

428. H(a)unted

I am h(a)unted by the past,

It stalks me in the night;

Pounds on the doors of my mind,

And causes endless fright,…

In passing.

I am h(a)unted by the past,

It preys upon my fear,

With arrows ready for the kill;

And I, just another de(e)ar,…

Am game.

I am h(a)unted by the past,

It follows in my wake;

Relentlessly, after my life,

For the past we can’t forsake,…

Or change.

I am h(a)unted by the past,

It’s traps are placed and ready,

To spring when least expected.

The path’s long, and feet unsteady,…

As I step onward,….ever onward,…

To live.

K. Aldaya, 2/27/18

Picture: https://www.shutterstock.com/video/clip-16391017-stock-footage-romantic-woman-in-forest.html?src=rel/23381599:1/gg

418. Mortal Paths

Another night ‘lone I lie,

And drift the vast path of thought.

Oh, how many years wasted?

Wandering endlessly…

Though, always onward led?

Led unto my own demise;

A maze of my own making.

What a waste of life…of time:

So precious…so finite…

Squandered in verse and rhyme.

I am nothing. Never was.

Mortality haunts my brain.

For I know not where to start,

Nor how to find the worth,

In the pleadings of heart.

Will anyone remember?

Or will everyone forget?

This mortal realm where I walked,…

On paths without ending;

Where all alone I talked…

To you.

“Hello”………………………………………………………….”Goodbye”.

K. Aldaya, 11/24/17

Picture: https://www.shutterstock.com/video/clip-9726293-stock-footage-handwriting-a-letter-by-candle-light.html

415. Don’t Forget

romantic-couple-wallpaper-290 (1)

Don’t forget to love,

And don’t forget to feel;

For life moves on forever,

Yet only love is real.

Don’t forget the faces,

And don’t forget that hope,

Lingers in the air,

Beyond each life’s scope.

Don’t forget to touch,

And don’t forget to see,

That the only thing of consequence,

Is the heart’s melody.

K. Aldaya, 10/26/17

Picture: http://www.iwallpaper.org/romantic-couple-wallpapers-290

414. You Do Not Have to Die

I didn’t want to die when I swallowed all those pills.

I didn’t want to die when I climbed those lofty hills.

I didn’t want to die when I tied that rope on tight.

I didn’t want to die when I climbed that towers’ height.

I didn’t want to die when I loaded that old gun.

I didn’t want to die, yet what is done, is done.

I swallowed all those pills, and climbed those lofty hills;

And tied that rope on tight, and jumped off from that height.

And I loaded that old gun, for there wasn’t anyone,…to say:

“You do not have to die! It doesn’t have to be this way.”

I see you there with all those pills. I see you climbing hills.

I see that you purchased that rope and have no sense of hope.

I see that you are walking up the stairs to the top.

I see that gun, “Put it down. Put it down. Stop!”

You do not have to die, my friend.

This should not be your end.

I see you. I see you…and all that pain within you.

Please put down those pills, and walk beyond those hills.

Unknot that rope. There’s still hope. There’s still hope!

Lay down that gun, and in the morn we’ll watch the sun,…

As it peeks o’er the line ‘tween night and day,

We’ll sit and watch the start of another earthly day;

And laugh, and cry, and hope together,

Under the ethereal clouds we gather,…

And fashion into dreams.

K. Aldaya, 10/4/17

Picture: https://www.wallpaperflare.com/brown-rocky-mountain-during-sunrise-photo-rophaien-wallpaper-17362

413. Tempus Edax Rerum

tumblr_m08aubmthW1r3a6jho1_500

Time devours all things,

And life leads but to death,

Yet in your arms a lifetime’s…

Inhaled, in one breath.

Time devours all things,

And we are but one course,

Yet in one kiss, the soul…

Returns to it’s true source.

Time devours all things;

It’s flow is definite.

Ticking on forever…

So we make use of it.

Here.

Now.

Our love is infinite.

K. Aldaya, 8/30/17

Picture: Original Artist Unknown; http://weheartit.com/entry/24111142; http://littlepawz.tumblr.com/post/18572611002/love-is-the-enchanted-dawn-of-every-heart

411. We Take it With Us

Under a cold and somber spell,

We stand two worlds apart;

Yet though the world’s taken my life,

It will never take my heart!

The heart which loved and cared for you.

A heart which felt love’s sting;

Which beat the bitter tides of fate…

Back, for awhile to sing.

We can not go back now,

For life ever moves on;

And we must move on with it.

Cling tightly.  Hold on…

To hope and future happiness.

In times of change, to feel,

No matter how hurt we are:

Even broken hearts may heal…

Knowing that love goes on.

—-We take it with us.

K. Aldaya, 8/10/17

410. Love Endures

I have never been of noble birth,

Nor lived a wealthy life.

Yet you filled my days with love and mirth,

And though we had our share of strife;

You gave your everything.

Though I was not born into love,

Or cherished as some jewel.

You taught me I was worthy of love,

And though I’ve always been a fool;

You loved me regardless.

And no matter what the days may bring,

We will remember still,

The life we shared together, and sing,

Our odes of love and hope which will,…

Sound, long after our time.

K. Aldaya, 7/27/17

Picture: https://thewondrous.com/cute-couple-pictures/

409. Here

Forget about the girl who said what no one wished to hear.

Go on. Pretend she never existed;

Yet someday…in some distant year,

When you least expect it,

You may hear,

A voice ring out and speak to you.

You may find the voice persisted.

‘Neath the echoes of cars and trains moving through time you hear;

Below the beeps, clangs, bangs, and caterwauls…

Her voice. Onward you pace and veer,

Through the streets she stalks you;

Drifting near.

Walking in the steps, behind you.

Listen, in silence a voice calls…

“I was here…

………….I was here.”

K. Aldaya, 7/25/17

Picture: http://www.guibingzhuche.com/WDF-1038603.html

407. Naught but Vain

If I used logic. I would still be called a fool;

For logic will not purge the minds of resolute belief.

You’ll always think me: “fool”.

If I used emotion to try and reach your heart,

You’d only dismiss it as ‘irrational sentiment’,

And spurn my bleeding heart.

If I told the truth. If I told you what I know.

You’d remind me that truth is unreliable when it,…

Occurred so long ago.

If I swore on my life, that I know and speak the truth.

You’d still deny my pleading words. No matter what I said,

You’d still require proof.

If I stepped off a cliff and waved to you goodbye,

Would you finally listen to what you refuse to hear?

To be heard, must we die?

If I apologized for my life and my soul,

Would you continue to blame me until the utter end,

And still forsake my soul?

If you don’t yet know this, then let me please explain.

Invalidation kills the soul and digs an early grave,

And there the stone reads bitterly:

“This life was naught but vain”.

K. Aldaya, 7/12/17

406. The World, It Wants Me Dead

giphykrst

The world is talking to me.

I hear it speaking loudly.

It’s voice echoes internally,

Of it’s hatred: Just for me,

Since my birth.

The Earth is speaking to me,

“No one cares about thee!”

“Thy birth, it was a tragedy,

Which only death could remedy;

In the fall.”

When the whole world wants you dead,

It hardly seems good manners to be hard in head;

And fight the fate which lies ahead.

The path will, and has always lead,

To the fall.

The world, it wants me dead!

—And yet,…I’ve never liked being told what to do.

K. Aldaya, 7/10/17

Gif: Kristen Stewart in Welcome to the Rileys; https://giphy.com/gifs/kristen-stewart-college-obama-NITJtjaJQJJS

402. Wildflowers

In the house upon the hill,

Where the wildflowers bloom;

There upon that hill,

Floats a murky gloom,

Stifling human will,

In the presence of swift doom.

In the house resides,

A world unto its’ own,

Where each man goes and hides,

Their every sigh and moan,

Away from judging eyes;

And that piercing undertone.

Can’t you hear it ringing?

Ringing, day and night…

Like a bee which keeps on stinging,

And causes lasting fright;

Through the air it’s winging,

Bearing pains no man can right.

Seek the house upon the hill,

Gray and worn with age,

For there upon that hill,

Is a safe and lasting cage,

Where you may hide until,

You lose the pain and outrage.

The inside walls are white and cold,

Lacking empathy or affection,

And once inside it takes a-hold;

Your soul feels deep rejection,…

Though as you will be told,

“It’s all for your own protection!”

In the house upon the hill,

The wildflowers are in bloom,

And are much too wild in will,

So confined to their room,

And told they must hold still,

Or growth will be their doom.

For flowers have a way,

Of drawing bees and such,

And when they bloom one day,

They draw abuse and touch;

The only other way,

Is to never live too much.

Hide in the house on the hill,

Where wildflowers bloom;

For there upon that hill,

They will lock you in your room,

And take away your free will,

‘Til the day you’re placed in the tomb.

K. Aldaya, 6/26/17

*For all those whose beauty was locked away in this life. RIP.

Picture: http://www.wildlifephotographytips.com/black-and-white-flower-photography.html

401. No One Likes an Ending

No one likes an ending.

No one likes to cry.

No one likes to hold the hand,

Of someone who will die.

No one likes an ending.

Endings are always sad.

No one likes to think about,

The time that one soul had.

No one likes an ending.

The unsurety. The change.

No one likes to say goodbye,

And face the new and strange.

No one likes an ending.

No one likes to cry.

No one likes to think about,

How all things must one day die…

–To make way for future birth.

Everyone likes beginnings.

Beginnings are always glad.

Everyone likes to laugh and love,

So please do not be sad.

No one likes an ending,

But endings clear the way,

For new things to bear,

The hopes of each yesterday…

–Ever onward, toward the future.

K. Aldaya, 6/24/17

Picture: http://www.grandparents.com/family-and-relationships/family-matters/teaching-grandfather-to-hug

398. I…I Don’t Want to Die

I…I don’t want to die.

“But you are broken, you say?

The only way to fix you,

Is for you to simply die,

And be reborn as someone new.”

I…I don’t want to die.

I know that I am broken,

And that’s all you can see;

Yet, why do I have to die,

For you to be able to love me?

I…I don’t want to die.

Do I really have no worth?

Am I something to be tossed,

And left all alone to die?

Am I truly one of the lost?

I…I don’t want to die.

I just want you to stay here;

To hold me close and tell me,

That I do not have to die,

For you to see me as worthy.

For you to be able to love me…

I…I don’t want to die.

K. Aldaya, 5/29/17

Picture: from Sherlock; http://pharlapcartoonist.tumblr.com/

391. Resolution

He balances on the edge and walks,

The rusted railroad tracks,

And as he teeters-on, he talks…

To himself (as no one’s there).

How had the tracks, which seemed so straight,

Led him to this place?

Where winds tipped his weight,

O’er the edge of no return.

It’s funny how one simple choice,

Leads us down a path;

And how easy it is to follow that choice,

To the brink, without a thought.

One step and then another more.

Our fates, by steps, are set;

And even if we wish for more,

We can’t go back or regret.

He balances on the edge and walks,

The rusted railroad tracks,

And as the wind strengthens, he talks:

“Oh how I wish I’d looked up!”

K. Aldaya, 3/31/17

Picture: Originally from Alamy; https://www.timeshighereducation.com/books/review-the-trolley-problem-mysteries-f-m-kamm-oxford-university-press#survey-answer

390. Heaven

6998738-fantasy-grass-field

Let us meet upon the spectral plains of Elysium,

Where all are equal in the eyes of the sun,

As we rest our heads to dream forever,

Of what could never be on Earth;

And of ties which could not sever,

Us, from our birth.

Rest your head upon my shoulder and dream of yesterdays,

As the labors of blood and flesh fade away.

Here you’re my brother, my sister, my kin.

Our fates are eternally bound.

Beyond prejudice, fear, and sin,

Heaven is found.

K. Aldaya, 3/22/17

Picture: Uploaded by Kipketera on 7-themes.com; http://7-themes.com/6998738-fantasy-grass-field.html

388. Broken Vessel

I had no right to refuse you,

For I had no rights at all.

You locked me within your eyes,

And from then on I was all…

You could see.

You gazed at me with doting eyes,

While you bled your victims dry.

You didn’t plan to kill me too,

And I didn’t want to die…

Just like them.

You stared into my eyes so deep.

You invaded my brain.

I became your loving home,

And you drove me insane…

With your thoughts.

Pleasure and pain you intermix.

As you love, so do you cry.

You drown me in your tears and rage,

While I lie still and try…

To go home.

Yet there’s no home to go back to,

Nor any door you cannot access.

You and I, we share this home,

And trying to escape: a hopeless…

Endeavor.

You walk these halls eternally,

And you, my fate, have judged.

The walls are made of bitter tears,

And each bloody lash is smudged…

Into bars.

I have no right to hate you,

For I have no rights at all.

You stole far down into my soul,

And from then on you were all…

That I am.

The criminal and the victim.

The loved and the lost.

The guilty and the innocent.

The vessel which you tossed…

To the side…

…broken.

K. Aldaya, 3/10/17

383. The Soul is a Symphony

sunny field

I wonder what people will say of me,

When I am finally gone?

Will they praise me for my honesty,

Or say that I was wrong?

Will they love my naked words,

Or loathe me as a whore?

Will they understand my words,

And why I always had to say more?

Will they say that I was sick,

Or plan and simply: pessimistic?

Will they think that’s all that made me tick?

That I was never optimistic?

After all is said and done,

I hope no one will ever say,

That I never cherished even one…

Earthly human day.

No one can help or change their path;

It is theirs to walk alone.

You’ll never understand that path;

The only path I’ve ever known.

Yet one thing I must make quite clear…

I crawled, lived, and fought;

And as much as I bore pain and fear,

Love is what I sought.

Beauty is more beautiful,

And happiness more divine,

When you know just how rare and wonderful,

It is to feel the sunshine.

To see flowers bloom each spring.

To watch children smile and glow,

And know that despite everything,

Love continues to nurture and grow.

I wonder what people will think of me,

When I am finally gone.

I hope they’ll realize how fully,

I felt and lived each dawn.

–For the soul is a symphony, not a song.

K. Aldaya, 1/20/17

Picture: https://w-dog.net/wallpaper/mood-girl-a-woman-hair-silhouette-loneliness-thought-meditation-of-mind-the-field-flower-flowers-flower-sunset-sun-night-background-wallpaper-widescreen-full-screen-widescreen-hd-wallpapers-background/id/348657/

 

375. The Noose

Once set into motion life continues unimpeded.

The bond of prophecy self-fulfilled,

Becomes the noose of the defeated.

giphy12345

You may struggle and the noose grow tighter: restricting breath…

Or calmly hold your hands to the line,

In-between desperation and death.

K. Aldaya, 11/26/16

Picture: Originally Posted on thedeadhasrisin.tumblr.com; http://giphy.com/gifs/sad-boy-depressed-wOKFDNYyjqfBK;

373. Weeping Willow

Weeping Willow

O’ Weeping Willow, why do you hate the daylight so?

Why do you cry to the sun and hang your head so low?

Do you want us all to feel the same way that you do?

Are you angry with the sun, which dries, then feeds you too?

O’ Weeping Willow, why do you love the darkness so?

Why do you wave and smile at the moon; and let your beauty show?

Do you love the dark because it hides your bitterness?

Does the night conceal your tears within it’s tranquil darkness?

O’ Weeping Willow, why do you exist to feel this way?

Why must you live to suffer so?

Why does it have to be this way?

Do you know where we all go when we turn to dust?

Weeping Willow won’t you cry for me too, when you meet my drifting dust?

K. Aldaya, 10/12/16

Picture: http://indulgy.com/post/cbtCpMSUW1/theclouser; http://indulgy.com/ana–bella/myperfect

370. Reality

cemetery-pictures-002

No matter what I do. Nothing ever changes.

The world changes around me,

While I while away the hours;

And my life becomes a memory,

Of some graveyard in the country.

No matter what choices I make.  I am here.

I cannot change how I feel.

What experience has taught me.

My version of what is real…

If real means anything at all.

No matter what I try to change.  It is.

I cannot save anyone.

We all live, die, and are forgotten.

Does fate exist and pull everyone…

Into that field of gravestones connecting reality?

K. Aldaya, 9/24/16

Picture: Cabot Village Cemetery, Vermont; http://www.cabothistory.com/cabot-s-seven-cemeteries

367. Savage

barefoot-running-girl

I am a savage.

I remember my days in the jungle.

The feel of mud ‘tween my toes.

The rush of adrenaline,

From head to toe.

Blood raging to win.

I am a savage.

I remember my nights under the moon.

The feel of winds blowing over,

The heavy lids of the earth,

Falling to cover.

In death is rebirth.

I am a savage.

I remember my days on the Earth.

The feel of dust and thirst.

The yearning to drink and feast.

Devoured or nursed.

Nothing but a beast.

K. Aldaya, 9/18/16

Picture: Original Source Unknown; http://sscinnovate.blogspot.com/2013/06/review-barefoot-minimalist-and-forefoot.html

365. Blood

gettysburg_i59782

“Blood is thicker than water”, how I truly hate this line!

How I loathe those who use it (usually absent of mind).

How carelessly it makes claim of the specialness of some,

When any fool knows that we all originally came from one.

How no matter where you live now or the color of your skin,

We are all from the same parents. We are all simply: human.

If only we could look beyond the years which separate us,

And see that we all bleed the same…with no waters to divide us.

Our minds have become barriers to block us from this truth.

To make us feel all alone, in this vast ocean: aloof.

I wish we could stop saying: “Black, white, yellow, or red”,

And look upon anothers’ face to see only sister or brother instead;

But rather, humans build their walls to conquer and divide.

To place themselves upon thrones, and wage war on the other side.

Anything to exploit men’s fear of what’s unknown or different.

“Oh, a sharp nose knows the enemy’s nose is an inch left-bent!”

How ridiculous it all is…this endless self-destructive game!

Humanity, will we ever learn our lesson and find a more rewarding aim?

I pray that time does teach us things that we will not repeat.

That lessons learned will one day stick and each heart will beat,

To the drums of a unified dance of love and acceptance;

Where the drums of war no longer beat this sad and tragic dance.

Humans do not bleed water and they never have or will.

Humans they are all our family and they bleed the same blood still;

The blood that your ancestors bled upon the battlefields…

The blood which spilt to give you life, from the womb your mother wields.

From the fathers of your father, and the mothers of your mother.

You may argue all you want, but truth one cannot smother!

So this I say to human beings with ears in which to hear.

Never speak of thicker blood or be selective of ear.

Love and grant the kindness which you would like to receive.

It’s not that hard to be understanding, listen, and to believe…

In seeing the best in others, and never prejudging a face.

Oh God, if we could only stop focusing on differences in religions and race!

Put down your weapons children! Mother is weeping in her grave,

And father’s bloody hands clench the soil for each child no one would save!

“We all bleed the same blood”, how many times has this been said?

How many more times must we repeat the truth, before we are all dead?…

And time passes and forgets us, the children of the Earth;

The species which destroyed itself and spit upon its’ birth!

K. Aldaya, 9/5/16

Picture: “Harvest of Death,” the Battle of Gettysburg, 1863, from Gardner’s Photographic Sketch Book of the War; http://blog.chicagohistory.org/index.php/2009/03/gettysburg/

360. Who Will Weep for the Dead?

Screaming2

Who will mourn for the lost,

And who will weep for the dead,

When the tides of sinful lust,

Awash each virgin-bed?

Blood is spilt upon the earth.

Oh, the horrors of man’s greed!

Which never takes responsibility,

For it’s every bitter deed.

Scream in terror children!

The dead shall not be grieved!

Only the victims bare the pain,

Of the sins they have received.

Their cries echo in vain,

As the dead will not be heard.

It only drives them more insane,

With every closeted-word.

And who will mourn for the lost?

Who will weep for the dead?

For rather then listening to the truth,

Men grieve for their ears instead.

K. Aldaya, 7/7/16

Picture: http://www.survivingmold.com/news/2014/12/cirs-the-genetics/; http://www.survivingmold.com/news/wp-content/uploads/2034/11/Screaming2.jpg

359. Vertigo

giphy

“This circle of existence keeps going ’round and ’round,

And I’m tired of this spinning,” she said with a frown.

“It’s hard to keep my feet steady and faced to where I’m going,

When vertigo’s a state of mind and there’s no way of knowing…

If the whirlwind can be contained,

And how long the spin will last;

Though as it’s oft’ been said before, “Children, the die is cast!”.”

The Earth keeps on circling: ’round and ’round we go,

And heads keep on tripping o’er questions no one can know;

‘Til men fall to the floor unable to take a stand,

Against the flow of existence’s every command…

As answers always lead men,

Back to the same place.

No one can stop the cell-bound vertigo of the human race.

“This circle of existence keeps going ’round and ’round,

And I’m tired of this spinning,” he said with a frown.

“If only I could take a stand in this life of mine.

If only I had some control over life and time…

To change what is and was…

To end this suffering;

Though hasn’t every man before me longed for the same thing?”

—As the world keeps on spinning…

K. Aldaya, 7/3/16

Picture:  http://giphy.com/gifs/space-night-earth-p69not0nbwli0

358. If Time Were…

5b884d891e587eceddcf09bee9ac657d

If time were a butterfly,

Could I reach into the sky,

And catch it in my hands,

So time would never fly?

If time were a pirate’s ship,

Thieving our hours away,

Could I raise a mutiny,

So we all could have a say?

If time were a human being,

Could I take their hand,

So we could stay together,

Forever, hand-in-hand?

Time is not a butterfly,

Nor human soul or ship,

Yet I can’t help but wonder why,

The time must always slip…

As the hands on the clock wave us goodbye.

K. Aldaya, 6/30/16

Picture: Originally posted on blessotherwomen; https://www.pinterest.com/pin/303711568592843666/

356. Fireflies

fireflies-stars-night_89915_990x742

Fireflies fill the night skies.

The wind is warm and light.

I stand alone beneath the stars,

This peaceful June night,

And wonder if stars are really,

The souls of ancient beings,

Who look upon the plight of man,

As a show with histrionic scenes.

In the expanse of time and space,

The lives of earthly men,

Must seem so trivial to a star,

Who’s seen from now to then.

Will stars recall when we looked up,

And stared into their gaze?

Will they remember who we were?

Will they remember us always?

Do we remember the fireflies,

Which danced before our eyes?

On summer nights while time passed by,

Did they gaze into our eyes?

Do not forget those fireflies,

Though trivial they may seem,

In the many nights of our lives,

They come and go like a dream.

Yet, if we don’t remember them,

Or moments while we live,

Who could hope for the stars to gaze back,

And watch us while we live?

And recall when our time runs out,

The beauty of existence.

How each life’s spark was beautiful,

In these skies of happenstance,

Where we all danced for awhile.

K. Aldaya, 6/9/16

Picture: By Steed Yu for National Geographic; http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/fireflies-stars-night/

355. Political Reform

Where are the hands which hold you here?

Which hold you to this land,

Of scorching concrete,

And vulgar deceit?

Where gavels scream every command,

Of the political elite.

Where are the hands which hold you back?

Which hold you in embrace?

The hands which act,

To make an impact,

Before time is lost without a trace?

Toward death the odds are stacked.

Where are the hands which hold you near?

Which hold your worth skin-tight?

Hands fall to find,

The world is unkind.

Countless die from depression’s heights,

Waiting for laws to be signed….

………..Waiting for a hand to hold.

K. Aldaya, 6/4/16

347. Toward Home

The fire is set…let it rain.

Sprinklers on the ceiling spit,

Out the waters of the sky,

Which stands above the heads that sit,

Under this big white roof and cry.

Some are looking at the floor,

Thinking of their yesteryears,

And how time passed by so fast.

In the joys of their many years,

Their hope and love had grown so vast.

Some are looking at the walls,

Pondering the hour and day.

Will someone come visit them,

And help them bide the hours away?

Will any out there think of them?

Some are looking at the ceiling,

Dreaming of drifting clouds of white,

In warm, pleasant days of summer.

The beep of a bike horn stirs their sight,

As they ride ‘neath azure skies of summer…

Toward home.

K. Aldaya, 4/12/16

346. Silent Existence

39898_sci_fi_sci_fi_city

Silent. In the silence.

The lack of voice is violent.

Hearts pray, internally,

While hands commit their violence.

Manic. In the madness.

Feet flutter in the panic.

Faces rise, to shade their eyes,

For the sun reveals their sadness.

Reverent. In the reverence.

Souls worship Earth resplendent.

Life lives, yet never gives,

Validity of descendance.

Silent. In the silence.

Even in stillness it is violent.

Mind’s mind, though never find,

Their way to condone the violence.

Existence stands silent.

K. Aldaya, 4/8/16

Picture: From Wallpaper Vortex; http://www.imgbase.info/images/safe-wallpapers/digital_art/sci_fi/39898_sci_fi_sci_fi_city.jpg

344. Random Thought #16

tumblr_nktfmxljD31s91f2vo1_500

The graveyards remind me how far up I’ve come.

The headstones behind me: what years have become.

I still feel at home though can live beyond it.

My old catacomb now ‘lone…remains moonlit.

I hear the depths echo endless implores to return,

But not yet…not yet.

I’m here for you.  I won’t leave you now.

I’ve avowed to be with you.  My soul to endow,

To loving and staying…living on somehow.

I waited many a night next to the crypt,

That shadowed the light from dawns’ cup a-tipped.

Pouring jagged rays: sharp to cut through,

I turned back a-ways to solus I was used to;

And now I hear the depths echo endless implores to return,

But not yet…not yet.

K. Aldaya, ’05

Picture:  From Phantom of the Opera; http://fallenfay-l-h.tumblr.com/post/112922767865

341. The War for Survival

giphy

The skies have grown black near the sea this eve.

Even the ocean, muddied, is fit to receive…

The death with follows the tornadoes of war,

Which spread from the shorefront to the steps of each door.

Waves crash and sting the eyes of the weary,

Who stroll through the streets as ghosts: silent and eerie.

Bodies float away and one man with a clipboard,

Counts each one seen with his pen like a sword.

The shelters are gone. There is nowhere to run,

And each man carries his own personal gun;

To fight back the tide of inevitable gloom.

Yet how many bullets will save even one from their doom?

The world is awash with an ocean of change,

Which washes all men and turns them deranged.

They bury the dead in mass graves without markers,

Then walk off with the smiles which living desires.

For who can keep walking on the bones of the fallen,

Without falling too deep into the sickness of men?…

Who have fallen before us begging for mercy;

And died at the gunpoint of their own misery.

The masses walk on with guns in both hands.

There’s no time for thinking. No time to make plans.

Is this war really worth it?…The bodies and the blood,

Of all the life of this planet buried in the mud?

The war continues…there’s no more to be said.

Shoot down your brother so you don’t end up dead.

Yet how will you save your soul from your sins.

For when your body soon rots the real fight begins.

K. Aldaya, 3/15/16

Picture: Originally posted by Gloomy Rules on Tumblr; http://giphy.com/gifs/shark-attack-ocean-storm-thunder-gifs-dOCG720yNqAms

 

 

339. Down the Rabbit Hole

B9-lNU5CMAEVdxo

Down the tunnel you go.

Do you really want to see what’s at the end?

Be careful what you wish for,

For it may well be forever, my friend.

Do you really want to know,

How deep the tunnel goes?

Must your really slide into it,

To find out where it goes?

The tunnel may lead to Nirvana,

Or possibly to Hell.

I’m not sure I care for either destination,

Yet for you I will hope it ends well.

Down the tunnel you go.

Must you really know what’s at the end?

Eternity’s never-ending you know!

I will miss you forever, my friend.

K. Aldaya, 3/14/16

Picture: Posted on Tumblr by goyoungfree; http://goyoungfree.tumblr.com/post/70635205534/babe-take-me-to-wonderland

337. Just So You Know

B_VmGxjXEAA9MaI

Just so you know, my life matters too.

I may not be rich or know high people,

Yet I think I should have the chance to do,

Whatever I want to.

Just so you know, my life matters as well.

I may not have some great job or position,

Yet I think I should have the chance to tell…

You, to go to hell.

Just so you know my life matters also.

I may not be like or think like you,

Yet I’m not going to kowtow.

You’re not my king you know!

Just so you know, my life matters too.

I may be poor and no one special,

Yet I want to be someone who,

Gets to live life too.

K. Aldaya, 3/9/16

Picture: Street Art on Twitter; https://twitter.com/googlestreetart/status/573476917074116608

327. Let Us All Eat Cake

teaparty

Forgive me, but I must leave now.

Time’s too precious to waste.

Life drifts by us even now.

We should all make haste,

And move toward our own happiness,

Whate’er that might well be.

If it harms none, and makes pain less,

No one should disagree.

I don’t have time to conversate,

On things which can’t be changed.

We’re all stuck here, so celebrate!

Tea time has been arranged.

Sip tea with me, or don’t…who cares?

I’ll drink tea for us both and sing.

No one cares how anyone else fairs,

And each has their own song to sing.

O’ Happy Birthday to us all.

We all were born,… Hurray!

All of us were young and small,

Then grow old and die one day.

So live like Kings and Queens, my dears…

Wear opulence on your sleeve.

Who cares of the rejection of your peers;

If they care not of your joy they should leave.

So forgive me, but I must leave now,

And put on my bows and frilly dress.

I have a tea party to attend.

Life’s too short to eat cake any less.

K. Aldaya, 1/4/16

Picture: By KellyAliceLoliCotton on Deviant Art; http://kellyalicelolicotton.deviantart.com/art/Welcome-To-My-Teaparty-273402429

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

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/

323. I’m Searching for a Memento

9443446927_5ccee227dd_c

I’m searching for a memento:

Something I can save,

So one day when I grow old,

I’ll remember what you gave.

I’m searching for a memory:

A thought or feeling pleasant,

Of when you were part of my life,

To sneak into the present.

I’m searching for a piece of you,

That I can hold on to;

So one day when you are gone,

I’ll still have part of you.

I’m searching for some concrete proof,

That life is truly real;

That knowing you bore some gift,

That time cannot repeal.

I’m searching for a memento,

To hang upon my lifeline;

So some day when I am old,

I can treasure every line…..

Made from smiles of remembrance.

K. Aldaya, 12/6/15

Picture: By Andre Govia on Flickr; https://www.flickr.com/photos/andregovia/9443446927/in/photostream/

322. Smile City

sadness_loneliness_longing_night_city_roof_railing_lighting_a_girl_desktop

I walk the lonely neon streets,

Of my minds’ perceptioned-city:

Constructed experiences,

On frames of personality.

It glows here with electric-life,

And yet all is calm and silent.

The lit windows in each skyscraper,

Are on all the time to torment.

For all that keeps me company,

Are the shadows in the darkness;

They wander ’bout the city streets,

With motives one can’t quite assess.

O’ the night is never-ending,

And sanity is not welcome.

For the only ways to pass time,

Require certain levels of numb.

The cityscape gets dull and drab,

And monotony fosters art.

Splash of red here.  A mural there.

Blood stains make for good tragic art;

And when life gets too tiresome,

There are always things to distract.

Just climb atop a tall building,

And jump off to make an impact!

One must always make sure to smile…

Or at least wear one anyway;

‘Cause come on, what else can you do?

Has it not always been this way?

The world is built on blood and tears,

Though as they say, “Just smile, it’s life!”

We haunt this endless night alone,

Smiling on with the help of a knife.

K. Aldaya, 10/10/15

Picture:  from HD Wallpapershttp://www.hdwallpapers.im/sadness_loneliness_longing_night_city_roof_railing_lighting_a_girl_desktop-wallpaper.html

319. A Story of Youth

kids_victorian_pic

Delivered in the Winter,

Of 1869,

Without mother or father.

I entered the world alone,

And was placed up for a home.

Men and women entered,

To stand and contemplate,

Whether it would be absurd,

To obtain something like me;

Many parents and kids could not agree.

Then after months, one day,

A family saw me,

And resolved they’d indeed pay…

My way into their fine life;

A daughter, father, and loving wife.

Days slipped by without thought,

Or a care in the world,

And soon those days were forgot,

In all of the excitement.

In comfort each day was spent.

I had a family,

And spent each day playing,

With my sweet sister, Emily.

We were best friends forever.

Our bond no one could sever.

We played dress-up and sang,

Of the delight of youth.

Serving black tea and meringue,

In gardens in the Springtime.

Life felt loving and sublime.

Change is a part of life,

And though I knew this well.

It still cut me like a knife,

When Emily ignored me;

And spent no more time with me.

One day in our bedroom,

She saw me, and she sighed.

Then kicked me into a tomb;

And there within that closet,

I sat and cried ’til sunset.

Soon it became routine,

To be hit and disdained;

And no one cared she was mean.

For I was not born to be,

A blood member of the family.

Then a brother was born,

And he would hurt me too.

No one cared my heart was torn;

And no one would rescue me,

Or heal my battered body.

Emily, in Winter,

Many long years later,

Looked at me, and I at her.

With my eyes I cried to her:

“Don’t you miss how things once were?”

“Emily, I love you.”

“The only love I’ve known,

Came from my friendship with you.”

“My only family’s here.”

“So please do not leave me here!”

She reached her hand to mine,

And walked to the window.

Then her eyes returned to mine,

And with disgust she pushed me;

Without time to scream, or plea.

I could no longer feel.

My face was lined with scars.

My legs broke from the ordeal,

And yet I begged forgiveness,

For being born so worthless.

All I wanted was love.

To give and receive it.

For a moment we felt love,

Before expectations changed.

After all: Society’s deranged!

Love grows and fades away.

Nothing lasts forever.

Beauty and youth fade away,

And a souls’ worth goes with it.

The world yells to reject it!

Out with old. In with new.

So the story still goes.

In time, spurned; replaced with the new.

When the novelty runs out,

All things are, like trash, thrown out.

I died in the Winter,

Of 1883.

When my kind, loving sister,

Was no longer young and small,

And too old for childish things, like me, her porcelain doll.

K. Aldaya, 9/17/15

Picture: Painter unknown;  http://www.edmondhistory.org/events/victorian-tea/

318. Privation

roving_life_by_christine_muraton-d5asr2l

I don’t want it to end,

Though I know it cannot last.

I can’t stay and pretend,

That this is going to last.

I can’t hold you ’til the end.

In this moment of protection,

Holding tight against your form,

An internal interjection,

Rages on into a storm:

Imbuing sound dejection.

I can not hold you here with me.

I can not hold you down.

You weren’t meant to live for me.

I’ll only bring you down.

No love is ever free.

I long to lie against you,

For all time, just us two,

Feeling safe beside you;

Yet I know this can’t come true.

I won’t let you stay here too.

Fly out on your wings,

And I will be here waiting.

You’ve those resplendent wings,

So there’s no use debating.

You were meant for better things.

I’ll wake early each morning,

And sit beside the window,

Hoping time will one day bring…

You back here below;

In a distant Spring.

—I long for your touch again.

I long to feel your shelter.

It’s raining outside again.

As my tears run helter-skelter,

I etch them onto paper with pen.

Forgive me, I am weak.

I know it can not be;

Yet my heart continues to seek,

The comfort of your body.

Now all is dark and bleak.

Days slip by carelessly,

Forgetting mortal lives,

As I sit here dreaming endlessly,

Of former days and lives,

When you were next to me.

The hour has grown late,

And these cold hands are weary.

I know not the day or date,

Only that this night is eerie,

And tonight I meet my fate.

I leave here in this place,

In the countryside of the living,

My last words of embrace.

Some crimes find no forgiving,

But love still pleads its’ case;

And even if for one brief day,

Love is held onto,

When it is lost one day,

It still holds onto you,

Giving you reason to pray.

I didn’t want it to end there.

You were all that brought me comfort,

Though I knew I could never have lived there,

With myself, were you to avert,

Your fate for the welfare,

Of one mere fallen angel.

K. Aldaya, 9/11/15

Picture: “Roving Life” by Christine Muraton on Deviant Art; http://christine-muraton.deviantart.com/art/Roving-life-320468493

313. Eternal Light

underwater-sunlight-takau99

The light streams down,

And reaches out to me,

Like the hand of a God,

Painting destiny.

Oh, what I would do,

To reach and clasp that light!

The touch of heaven on skin:

Warm and ember-bright.

If only I had wings,

I’d fly into the sky,

To destiny, immortality,

On an etheric lullaby.

The light shines down,

And reaches out to me,

And though I sink, I sing,

And it ripples,…into eternity.

K. Aldaya, 7/24/15

Picture: takau99: https://www.flickr.com/photos/thailandbeach/; http://fineartamerica.com/featured/underwater-sunlight-takau99.html