Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Given Scenes Like Aleppo

What was the stroke of luck,
That put me in this place?
Complaining it's too hot with ice outside,
Privileged sex and race.

First world woes, like what's the meaning of life,
Though, the question still stands,
When ev'ry hospital and school's been bombed,
Only a Death Road as an escape plan,

It's trite to be grateful for all you have,
Ev'rything's rel'tive, right?
The breath in my lung's a glorious thing,
In a war-torn, bleak blight,
So reject it,
Refuse to live in peace,
Until all people can reject it, too,
With the cool arrogance of the elite.

Saturday, December 10, 2016

Is This The End?

I hes'tate to write this,
Got other things to do,
Also, if I am honest with myself,
I am afraid of you,

A fear that was ne'er part of my being,
Nor do I wish it were,
Once, I was accused of being shameless,
My proudest moment living in the world,

But a long life is measured by changes,
Not years that have gone by,
Hoping you end up back where you started,
S'that as born, you will die.
Your truest self,
Ere the Earth friended you,
Gave you life, yes, then the killing began,
That you forget what it is you must do.