You are no longer a being of free thought
You are bound to a cache you are greater than
I too share the prison you chain yourself to
As I am incarcerated because you are
Once upon a time you would offer perspective to those around you
Now it is as if the light that once was you has gone out
Extinguished by circumstance or chance
By fault or by choice
The charred remains stand in your place
And I keep them with me always
Hoping you can be rekindled
Reborn from the ashes
Erupting in fiery magnificence
Emitting your light once more
And filling us all with your warmth and glow
Christopher Cook
acockyone
Thirty year old college student in pursuit of something greater than the monotonous hegemony and socially enforced mediocrity that has been nearly systemic in its stitching of citizens into a quilted pattern of ignorance, intolerance, and greed. I am hoping that by the time I obtain my Degree, that my hunger for literature and my thirst for writing will have matured and developed into less of a beginner's hobby and more of a profitable, marketable commodity, instead. At this stage in my life, I realize that success is not defined by how talented you may see yourself as being, or even how talented you may actually be. For what good is talent if you never do anything with it? What difference does it make if, say, you are the best vocalist that has ever walked the Earth, if you've never let anyone else hear you sing? This then, is not just another preamble on just another social networking site, but something like the first few measures to my life's opus, so to speak. Here ends The Prologue.
The horizon is a doorway one may journey to
A place you will never arrive
And impossible to travel through
Somewhere over the threshold
(yes, sung exactly like the song
And later changed by Judy Garland to rainbow
Because she thought ‘threshold’ just felt wrong)
Now, as I was saying before over the threshold
There is a kingdom In the East
The kingdom ruled by a witch
The lands where tomorrow sleeps
And behind that land is the hallowed place
Where eternal westerday retreats
(War)T0RN
I open my eyes
There it is
I was afraid
But for an instant
That I had
Lost it
I was a fool
To think
It would ever
Even in a million years
Not be there
Giving to us
Our rain
Is their reign
Providing for us
Divine fire
From the skies
See him
He flies
Enter Now
The Great Satan
Devourer of nations
Our heavenly salvation
He who takes lives
Killing husbands
Killing children
Killing wives
And ending people
Fragile people
Feeble People
End us all
We evil people
We sinners
We blasphemers
Who pray
To Satan
That he smite
Us
Wipe us away
From this
The pain
And suffering
We must endure
For eternity
The screaming chaos
But there it is
In the place
Where I left it
In the black
S. Kiss Snows
I’ll give you kisses with my nose
Like we were Alaskan eskimos
Fighting the arctic winds as they blow
How else do you think they survive in the snow?
I Know What A Haiku Is
In the sea of Facebook posts
There is always bait
For an empty compliment
SunFettered
Soft moonlight fades into good morning beams of ecstasy
Drawing closed the curtains
I must hide from the after-hour sun
Biddings of good morrow cascade
In tireless freefall they flow
But I have built a dam to keep the fields moist
For I am something like agriculture
Parched by the heat and brightness
My green skin awash in the new-day sun
I am but wilted leaves
So as the sunlight beats at my thin external covering
This scorching becomes too much
Relief is sought from heights above
To block this, the vulnerable earth
From the bright, death, Creator
Ashore
Submerged. Deeper and deeper I sink into the warm waves of ocean’s spray.
Sunken. Like a ship lost at sea never to return to the slip from which it ported.
Drowned. Forever filled with the fluids of antiquity are my desperate lungs, screaming for air as they become washed away in the tidal ebbs and flows, Moving sands of doubt and fear further inwards;
On this, my inner cove.
Salutations
Greetings, fellow writers! What a pleasure it is to make your acquaintances and it is an honor to be counted among this year’s poetry marathoners. I think it is imperative to one’s happiness and success to challenge oneself and commit to the completion of a difficult task. For me, and I’m sure several of you, this marathon is exactly that type of challenge, one from which you will emerge a better person. As cliche as I’m sure that sounds, I assure you that my acknowledgement has birthed a style that has proven to be 100% Cliche-free, with no harsh dyes or Parabens. It is often difficult for writers to feel comfortable enough with submitting a piece of themselves to the world and allow their work to stand up to an audience’s response, or at least that has been the case in my experience. Anecdotal evidence has timelessly proven itself to be the best justification for many of the world’s greatest discoveries and advancements (never you mind the failures in this instance, as they are irrelevant to my point, and therefore, have been omitted), We, as a group of writers, must stand together as the voices of our times and act as testaments to our society. Alas, the moment is at hand, and I will rise above my digressions and land back on my original point. I am excited (and admittedly, slightly apprehensive) to embark on this shared journey. With that, I bid each of you adieu, and welcome you to freely comment below with any questions, concerns, suggestions, or if you are interested in purchasing counterfeit Prada purses and other high-end-like knock-off items, I would love to engage in great detail with you. Have a great day/night, and remember: This is a marathon people, not a competition, so do your very best, and remember to keep out of my way. Thank you.