371. Inertia

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Nightmares are only reverse dreams,

And ghosts are merely shadows.

Memories are just vivid streams,

Of self-perceptioned scenes.

Dreams are only reverse nightmares,

And shadows are merely ghosts.

Memories are the eyes which stare,

Deep down into our souls.

Phantoms haunt, and memories hurt;

And nightmares destroy dreams….

While time ticks on and on: inert,

To what we tell ourselves.

K. Aldaya, 9/25/16

Picture: Scene Capture from “Pretty Little Liars”; http://www.afterellen.com/tv/209853-pretty-little-liars-recap-4-19-shadow-play/3

358. If Time Were…

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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

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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/

344. Random Thought #16

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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

319. A Story of Youth

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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/

304. Lunatic Hours

Red Clock Eyes Wallpaper

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Listen up and listen quick.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

He’s a raving lunatic.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Life’s a crazy horror-flick.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Lock the door with a *click*.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Choices: Which will you pick?

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Every choice will make you sick.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Skin is thin and blood is thick.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

You want to know his little trick?

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Slit your wrists and make it quick.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Death, it hates a lunatic.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Lunatics are pretty slick.

Tic. Tic. Tic.

Death can’t kill a lunatic.

Tic. Tic.

‘Cause they’re already dead…

Tic.

K. Aldaya, 5/9/15

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://www.wallpaperseries.com/girls/red-clock-eyes-wallpaper.html

295. Hourglass

The sands they shift,

Through the hourglass of the mind.

The me today which I know,

Tomorrow may not find.

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Will the me I used to be,

Drown in the shifted sands,

Or will she reach and join with me?

I hope she understands.

Time changes us all,

Though we once were the same.

I’ve been changed by life.

Failed and overcame.

The sands are always shifting,

As the hourglass o’erturns.

I’ll ne’er forget those lost on the way,

And what each one learns,

To create the me of today.

K. Aldaya, 3/30/15

Picture:  Hourglass Photo uploaded by Lady Quintessa on Photobucket: http://s961.photobucket.com/user/Lady_Quintessa/profile/; http://media.photobucket.com/user/Lady_Quintessa/media/hourglass.jpg.html?filters%5Bterm%5D=anime%20hourglass&filters%5Bprimary%5D=images&filters%5Bsecondary%5D=videos&sort=1&o=10

255. Never Enough

I am.

I exist.

Why is this never enough?

I see.

I dream.

Why are dreams so tough…..

To hold?

To keep?

Yet so easy to create.

I dream.

You dream.

Though dreams can’t fight fate.

day-156-dirty-hands

And still.

We hold.

Struggle to grasp with two hands.

Our souls,

So deep.

Walking the line ‘tween two lands.

Was made.

Alive.

Hoping beyond all odds.

Destroyed,

And dead.

Both am I; and my head nods.

To earth.

To dust.

My creator and my exterminator.

My love.

My hate.

My lower and my greater.

I am.

I exist.

Why is this never enough?

I hope.

I dream.

And dig in the dirt so rough.

My hands.

They bleed.

For the earth to feel me.

My soul.

It cries.

For the dreams which with dust will bury me.

I am.

I exist.

No it’s never enough for me.

No life.

No death.

I long for my dreams to be free!

K. Aldaya, 12/1/13

Picture:  “Dirty Hands” by Aaron on dailypayne.com; http://dailypayne.com/dirty-hands

246. Happy Birthday Again

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It’s my birthday again.

Another year older.

Another year closer….to death.

And what has been…..

Is still my life and still my fate.

Forever my story.

Forever passed by so fast…..

It feels so late!

Is it wrong I feel only death awaits?

My prime passed in sorrow?

My prime spent in a fog of survival?

Lost child of fate!

It’s my birthday again.

So I’ll smile, even though I’m sad…

So I’ll smile, even though I’m mad….

At time.

Happy Birthday again.

K. Aldaya, 7/13

Picture:  by Polly Thomas Photography; http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3444/3992497669_247ca20588.jpg

224. I Fall Alone

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Nobody can help me.

I’ll always be alone.

Nobody can save me,

From the nightmare of it all.

Nobody can see me,

When I cry, and scream, and call.

Nobody can hear me.

In this pit of misery I fall….

Forever fall alone.

Nobody can help me.

I’ll always be alone.

Nobody can save me,

From the darkness which encroaches.

Nobody can touch me, hold me, and need me,

As time reproaches.

Nobody can shut out what I see,

As time, in loved-ones, steals from me….

And poaches…

Every joy;

While I lie alone….Forever, fall (to the grave) alone.

K. Aldaya, 12/26/11

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BSVVQ-Qvw-M/UX5kVQC6TpI/AAAAAAAABy8/cmblY9NUAzE/s1600/Alone-girl-sadness-cute-in-forest-lonely.jpg

179. Present Realities Have a Tendency to Change

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Oh, how has time flown on so fast?

We shall not know ’til our breaths’ last;

When we’ll transcend its’ confines.

Our spirits but dark shadows cast…

Just brief once-spoken lines.

We must not let our shadows fall,

Before our hearts be free to call;

Echo: “A life was lived!”, throughout,

Every sculpted corridor and hall.

So it’ll linger soft and devout,

In the constructs of existence,

We know…but soon will doubt.

K. Aldaya, 10/19/05

Picture:  Originally on http://theuberblog.tumblr.com/; Photographer Unknown; http://favim.com/image/184721/

148. Clock-Struck Annihilation

Changes are constant and held with regard,

As there’s nothing to halt them or keep them imbarred.

Daily they move to the ticks and the tocks,

Movements set in motion to the bidding of clocks.

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Time is a constant reminder to all,

That life is more precious with each sun and moons’ fall.

For how quickly the hands tick the hours away,

And the world’s ever made different in the death of a day.

K. Aldaya, 6/27/05

Picture:  “The Passage of Time” by Jason Ticehurst; http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large/the-passage-of-time-jason-ticehurst.jpg

26. Time

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Life then death, that’s how it goes.

Time slips by and no one knows,

How to slow it.

How to pause it.

How to stop it.

Life ticks away with every breath and second.

Listen and you’ll hear it’s rhythm and beckon.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock it goes.

Going, going, going…it goes.

The sands of the hourglass fall swiftly down,

Down, down,

And thus so do we down into the ground.

Time keeps on going forever and more,

Bringing us stranded on death’s open shore.

Life then death. That’s how it goes.

Listen to the sound that no one knows,

How to slow.

How to pause.

How to stop.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock it goes.

How to stop it? No one knows.

So it goes, goes, goes, goes.

Goes, goes, goes.

K. Aldaya, 8/19/02

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://ak0.picdn.net/shutterstock/videos/1877860/preview/stock-footage-extreme-close-up-sands-move-through-hour-glass.jpg

14. Now: Inevitability

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Now is all anybody has.

Each moment changes irreversibly,

Leaving us with:  “What’s meant to be”.

Time can’t stop nor be rewound.

There are no retakes to be had

The end result: someday…sad.

Now is all that we have.

There is spirit and life that dies,

Leaving us with too many goodbyes.

K. Aldaya, 6/18/03

Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://theexperiencejunkie.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/clock.jpg