My tongue seems loose somehow,
Though there are no secrets to divulge, it keeps wagging as my mind stands by silently and can only follow in a sluggish disinterested manner.
When will I wake up and catch up with my speech?
Straining my neck to look back the way I came, I wonder,
What happened to shake my tongue and teeth loose?
I may never have been the silent type but cautious, well versed in pretending and picking my words carefully I have been.
I used to let the words seep out from behind my mask but now the mask itself seems to be missing and my scattered insides no longer hidden.
*image by John Noonan on Unsplash
The dead ask the living to fight for them,
“Did we not fight for you? In all those forgotten man-made wars, did we not fight for you?
Will you fight for who comes after you or will you fight for us?
We have bled and dies already, the unborn have done nothing for you yet, and you cannot be sure what they will bring to the table.”
The living stand frozen and forlorn, “Do we trust the past or future?
The past will haunt us the future cannot shelter us, the future has no voice yet, it merely smiles.
The living are torn, tearing themselves apart ceaselessly as the dead chatter on with loose pale dentures hanging from their skulls.
“Did we not fight for you?”
The future is uncertain, it never moves beyond the mists and only the living can make promises which they do now.
They promise to remember the past and uphold the future, redeem the past in their own futures and neither of these promises can be kept. But in days to come the living will look back and they will look forwards and ask:
“Did we not fight for you?”
*image by Daniel Jensen on Unsplash
I have a thought and I hastily put it down on paper,
scared that I will loose it along the way to the page.
But I manage it and then I stare blankly down
because that one snippet was all I could lock into ink.
Sometimes words and ideas are seem like wild things to me,
they do not care for being caged.
*image by Vincent Botta on Unsplash
I lost myself a long time ago
And noone ever came looking for me.
Maybe they did not know, they still do not know
Because I am lost within myself,
Rattling around inside my ribcage,
Inside the borders that the world has expanded too far
For me to find my way back out.
*image by Guille Pozzi on Unsplash
She is a tree that wanted to wander
But she knew that the world was wide and there were many paths at her disposal.
And when she at last made up her mind, her roots had grown too deep and fierce,
So she stands with twig fingers in the wind and with her voice on the breeze, she says:
“The grounds you stand on belongs to me.”
*Image by DeeDee Wang from Unsplash
A shadow fell over her face and he could hear her heart slowly falling asleep,
Now he has to deal with her ghost as well as her memory.
And the ghost whispers:
“You built no castles for me.
You built a memory on your second-hand-guitar,
With a song about farewell, I wrote, you didn’t know was for you, you have long been digging your own grave.”
*picture by Gabriel on Unsplash