397. Go to the Water

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

Tears flowing forth.

Time runs it’s course,

In the flowing forth of words from mouths.

Nothing but a freak.

A child: lost and meek,

Cursed to bear the cost of others’ sorrows.

Fates can not be changed.

Experiences rearranged.

Once set into motion it continues.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

“Kill yourself today.

You’re in everybody’s way.

Why can’t you see your fate is sealed.

No one wants you here.

Curse’s won’t disappear.

Why must you fight the flowing of the water.”

The window is ajar,

And beyond is just a bar.

One step and then it will all be over.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

Nobody will stop you.

You know what you must do.

Look down into the darkness of the water.

Their eyes are looking up.

Go on, they’ve had enough.

It will only hurt a little longer.

Legs break in the fall.

Nobody cares at all.

They watch you with the coldness of the water.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

Crawl to the boat’s tip.

Take a little slip.

Fall down face first into shivering water.

Can not swim away.

Lungs fill up straight away.

Choke upon the apathy of strangers.

Bodies soon grow cold,

As souls release their hold,

And all that’s left’s another child forgotten.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water.

No one speaks the name.

Life goes on just the same,

As bodies drift away on the water.

Cruelty is a plague.

Apathy digs a grave,

Which buries all the outcast little children.

Flow. Flow. Flow in the water…

…Go. Go. Go to the water…

…….Go. Go. Go to the water.

K. Aldaya, 5/21/17

Picture: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22892496-dust-to-dust

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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

330. Lolita

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I like cake, and I like candy.

Blades for cutting wrists are handy.

I like treats, and I like frosting.

No one knows what childhood’s costing.

I like balloons, and I like games.

Obligatory silence maims.

I like dolls, and I like tea-time;

And touching children is a crime.

I like toys, and I like cupcakes.

This world is full of frauds and fakes.

I like pink, and I like parties;

And rapists rape children with ease.

I like frills, and I like laces.

Shut the door and close the cases.

I like carousels.  I like bows…

Scarred-wrists dressed in lolita clothes.

I like teddies and lullabies…

For they cover the shame-filled cries,

Of innocence’s homicide.

K. Aldaya, 1/20/16

Picture: By milk-rose on Tumblr; http://milk-rose.tumblr.com/post/21632099649

315. The Bed

fire_by_freaky__like__vivi-d5sxsac

The bed is made of lies and fire,

Though it does not burn to ash,

And upon it lies lustful desire,

And lost souls under lash.

Bodies burn engulfed in flame,

Forever stoking the blaze.

The babies, crawling, are the blame;

Igniting with their gaze.

The fire sparks from inside,

Childhood’s glowing domicile,

Of doors which lead to hell and abide,

In the darkness of denial.

The flames cannot be quenched with tears.

The fire once set, burns on.

For those in hell are the mutineers,

Who refuse to lie –and yawn,

And sleep in ignorance.

K. Aldaya, 8/3/15

Gif:  “Fire” by Freaky–Like–Vivi on Deviant Art;  http://freaky–like–vivi.deviantart.com;  http://freaky–like–vivi.deviantart.com/art/Fire-350936436

282. The Tree

Tree Awakening

Growing. Advancing its’ roots.

The tree always blossoms with time,

And in time it must feed its’ roots;

With sunshine.

Inside the flesh it has grown.

Now out of flesh it must rise,

And break through the skin and bone;

To survive.

Boring its’ way through the cheek.

Blood oozes and creeps down its’ bark.

Will the world be ready for this freak;

And fathom?

Gasps and screams sing-out as it grows.

“Oh, how horrid the truth! How bizarre!”

“This black-tree only spreads and sows;

Its’ evil!”

“Cut it down! Cut it down! The devil needs no light!”

“Let it live in the darkness it exposes!”

Too obscene to look at, and offensive a blight;

To accept.

Growing. It always keeps growing alone.

Cut back and cut down,….it remains.

For evil once lived finds a life of its’ own;

And spreads.

Could the light have allowed the tree,

To blossom into something of worth?

Is there beauty in the horror in thee;

In season?

The tree through each season lives on,

And under the skin it still thrives.

‘Til one day all its’ roots will be gone;

In soul-death.

For self-destruction’s humanities’ legacy,

To the children who refuse to accept,

They should hide the sins of the world and agree:..

“There’s no tree”.

K. Aldaya, 12/4/14

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://dark.pozadia.org/wallpaper/Evil-Tree-Lord-Awakening/

272. Societal Denial

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“I want to live”, I said,

To the stranger beside me.

“So, we can go together”, she said.

I nodded, to agree.

“Yes, here we are already dead”.

We drove until the cops appeared;

In many places eyeing us.

We knew when they appeared,

They were onto us;

So I quickly down-geared.

The only way is past this place,

To the other side it goes.

Through the rooms of this place.

Can we escape? Who knows?

But there’s no choice.  We race!

We ducked into an empty room,

With a small window at the end.

Hanging there—feelings of gloom,

In forms of guns to portend,

Would soon lead us to our doom.

We continued on and finally found,

The room of our escape.

We ran and I jumped out and found,

Myself alone in the escape.

My friend could not be found.

It was too late to turn back.

I had to make a break for it.

A cop was there and would attack.

Ran,…but with no hope soon quit,

To protect from the coming smack.

Curled on the ground I waited,

Shaking for fear of humankind.

A sentence won’t be abated,

For reasons held in my mind.

I knew, if caught, I would be hated.

I would be hurt for leaving;

For trying to live and escape fate.

I knew I would be receiving,

More abuse for running from fate.

I waited in dust for the grieving.

When there again, I saw my friend,

And she walked up to me, and I….

I stood and she stepped-in to lend,

Her anger, and voice, to try,….

To get the cop to comprehend.

“You do not understand”, I yelled.

“I have to get away from here”.

“If I am to live just once”, I yelled,

“I have to fight against my fear”.

“Hiding is its’ own hell!”

“Hiding from the truths that are,

Has kept me safe for awhile,

But one can’t hide: not close or far,

From the life-long mile;

Without a life-long scar.”

The cop listened and then of course,

He did his duty and tackled me.

My hands cuffed behind with force.

I’d found more misery,

By running off the course.

The course, for me, the world set.

And there are rules in this place,

Which one cannot change or forget;

Or be labelled ‘criminal’ or ‘basket-case’,

With a lifetime of shame and regret.

But the cops are just doing their work,

And the masses just shuffling along;

And the lost longingly lurk,

In the shadows just drifting along.

No salvation.  Always the jerk.

Plaguing the system with a wailing, sad-song.

Cop: “If you had just stayed hidden,

We could have all gotten along.”

K. Aldaya  6/9/14

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://dark.pozadia.org/images/wallpapers/34-Gothic-1280×1024-81205.jpeg