POETIC DARKNESS

Add a Comment

Comment by Sindell on August 11, 2008 at 2:03pm

Angel wings, demons soul, immortal calls death shall come,
for darkness is ours.
Angel light, demons flight,
nightmares come true,
for darkness is ours.
We are the ones that both evil and good fears.
We are the ones that are made to slay both.
We are of the darkness that fills everyone's
soul that wishes for peace yet none shall have.
Angel wings, demon souls,
for darkness is ours.

Comment by Kikkaha (Ray) on August 4, 2008 at 4:24pm

I've talked with you

I've talked with you,
under tree capped gardens
hearing your voiceless sounds
paint jade green flowers.
Your hand blue with time
reaches through the echoing
corridors of my mind.

I've walked with you,
our footsteps littering the galaxies
with a myriad of new born suns
like sparks struck with flint and steel.
We strolled through reaches far beyond
the grasp of mortal mind.
We were not mortal then, you and I.

I've loved with you,
in body, mind and soul
experiencing ecstasy
as none I've ever known.
Once you were the teacher
and I the student,
and then we changed our roles.

I've seen you born,
and then give birth to me
your pale blue womb bursting
to seed the void with pre-blumed blossoms,
sending with each a portion of you and I,
starting anew the cycle
of our acquaintance.

Comment by Kikkaha (Ray) on August 4, 2008 at 4:14pm

Forgotten Soldiers

By Ray Waldbrunn

You stand proudly as the banner of our nation passes by. Your hand raises in a smart salute to the colors so many have died for. For a moment you think of comrades that laid down their lives that these colors may wave proclaiming the freedom of our nation. After these beloved colors pass you by, what then. Do you remember the ultimate sacrifice of your brethren. Do you look askance at the crippled survivors of our nations conflicts. It is easy to see those that gave their limbs, but what of those that gave their hearts and minds. Those that never really returned from those awful conflicts. Yes, they walk among you, they act perhaps a little different that what you would consider the norm. Their pain is born of the spirit, not of the body. They relive day by day the horrors they have seen and endured. They suffer, most in silence for they fear the derision of the ones they once called friend and peer. They hide in shame their pain and anguish over things they did or had done to them. A tear falls from my eye each time I see a so called brother in arms turn his face away from one who is in need. Remember, there but for the grace of God go each and every one of us. I speak not of those whose infirmity is obviously seen when they ride their chair of iron instead of walking proudly as all men should do. I speak instead of those whose anguish lies in the daily travail of dealing with the common tasks of day to day living made all but impossible by thoughts and feelings of inadequacy. Inadequacy in not being like those others that smile and joke and relive memories of pleasantry. They relive moments of camaraderie and tales of those waiting for them back home. What of those that no longer fit into the mold, those that have left the camaraderie behind because they have no comrades left to discourse with. Those are the fellows that my salute goes to, they are the ones who rest in my heart, they are the ones who I remember each time those proud stripes and bright stars pass by. They are the heroes, the forgotten ones, the ones I shall always remember and call my brothers in arms.