Dark Storm

Dark storm-filled sky 

Oppressing all-encompassing 

Overwhelming in its inescapability

A depressing blanket smothering those hunched underneath. 

Penetrated by a ray of light 

A hand reached out  

An offering to escape 

I don't trust it 

It must be a joke 

A mistake 

I turn my head 

The light disappears 

Swallowed by the storm

I begin to walk away, rain beginning to sting sharply against my skin. 

Consumed by the tempest 

Wind cutting to my bones 

Rain drenching my body

I am content 

An expected pain is better than that of broken trust. 



Golden hour

From the ground sprouts a wonder

Beautiful golden leaves like pieces of gold fall from the winding branches above

An elegant rain engulfs all that stands underneath 

Breathing in the warm air 

Drinking in the golden rays of sun above 

Perfection 

And yet perfection doesn't truly exist 

As the weeks pass the radiant leaves wither 

The work of art once tall and proud curls in on itself 

The branches pull into the trunk

Desperately clinging to its leaves 

To its beauty 

All for not 

The wind from the mountain above rips at the valley below 

Leaving it gray and dull 

Change is unfair 

It’s unexpected 

Yet it is all around us 

Our world is fragile our lives are finite  

Hardship is around every corner 

But spring will come 

It always does.

Shattered World

A shattered world stretches for miles 

Winds blow through the hollow mountains 

An empty dry sound 

Whispers like steel scraping along bone 

Rasping all that remains of nature's beautiful melody.

Above a sky of flame burns.

It seems alive as it crashes across the horizon 

Deafening in its silence 

Crushing in its weightlessness

Light flickers 

Rigid steel interrupting natural flows 

One last fingerprint 

Flippant in its intrusion 

Natural in its creators. 

 Infinite Wire

Cursed land 

Crippled by time 

Scared and festering with wounds born by greed and anger.

The omnipresence looks on not a hand raised nor a finger lifted.

Inky darkness rules all.

A man hunches down on one knee 

Cables stretch for miles 

An endless tangle 

Never-ending and never touching 

In their parallel the man finds catharsis.

Freedom

Freedom sores above my head 

An expanse so breathtaking language can't quite manage to articulate, 

So awesome the world beneath lies in its shadow. 

The earth strains itself reaching up toward that freedom 

It never grasps what it seeks.

Rooted to itself

Seemingly all-powerful 

Yet unable to obtain that which it desires most.

I lower my camera

Breath condenses as its heat melds with the cold felt around me.

I can feel it as I walk back towards my car 

Each step hunching lower 

Melting into the cement below. 

The crushing desire of the world pulls me down 

And the sky offers no wings to lift me up. 

Nostalgia

Nostalgia 

A wistful attention to the past 

So human in its tragic originality

To seek something long gone  

A feeling once had but no longer attainable 

Words from a song 

A show no longer what it used to be 

When found the result is the death of something once held dear 

A video game played one too many times 

A movie now lacking in excitement 

Yet time continues to move on. 

In that crushing reality some refuse to move with it. 


Blazing Rage

After the blazing rage of a fire.

There lies a blank slate. 

The woods regrow, plants thrive, animals trickle back. 

Scorched earth turns into fertile soil. 

The once-scarred land now more beautiful than ever.

When we are hurt we are left empty.

Hallowed.

And yet we move on.  

We must.

There is nothing else to do.

Experience nurtures.

It strengthens. 

What sprouts from within becomes strong. 

If we let it. 


The Observer

A world full of observers. 

Always watching as the planet spins around us. 

Wars rage 

Children starve 

Countries burn to the ground 

The plant chokes underneath humanity's crushing heel. 

And yet we stand aloof. 

A camera in hand. 

Beauty spreads out before those lucky enough to witness it. 

A man hunches over gnarled fingers trembling as he presses down. 

A click of a button the only sign of action 

I stare down at the picture in hand and stuff it into my pocket 

In the future not long it will be treasured. 

An ashen taste of the world long since lost to history. 

Natural Flow

An elementary flow, beautiful in its nature. 

Its simplicity. 

Jarringly interrupted.

Natural manipulated into the unnatural.

As I sit here denim-covered knees sinking into the mud I ask.

Why? 

Why must we always interfere? 

Always “innovate”

Expand into the places never even meant to be discovered.

The answer rings out through the rusting pipe. 

Because. 

It's your nature. 

The Cycle

Shielding canopy pierced by symmetrical incandescence. 

Hyperboranth niche evaporates underneath. 

Rebirth and death shackled to eternity. 

Regoise! as warmth and life is restored. 

Our Inevitability

In the ice-cold embrace, we wallow 

The mind begins to erase

All that has come before 

Lifeblood continues to flow yet 

Inevitability is unavoidable.  

To be alive is to be bound 

To seek freedom is to chase after the very chains you run from.

In our truth there lies a certain adventure 

There is an end to all things 

The only escape is acceptance. 


Ascension

Negative space rends at the pitch-black expanse

An all-seeing eye boring into those it seeks. 

Smoke blown across the universe. 

Clouds seem to glitch buzzing like a disconnected TV

A man lays spread eagle in the now. 

His gnarled hand stretched toward the sky.

For an instant he believes he can ascend.

To Be Alone

In the cold I stand- 

Feet planted at the center of an ice-covered wasteland- 

One hand trembles and jitters-

The other tranquil and still- 

One longs for the others warmth yet solace it will-

Never reform. 

Our Truth

When you strive for greatness so extreme

Do not be surprised when eventually reality dashes your dreams.

When you charge forth with only progress in mind

An eye opener let it not be when mankind is ground underfoot

When you live as if in a tunnel with nothing but an end 

Let you not feel consternation when your even visage is hated

As you soar high over the empires created 

Remember history will always repeat 

Understand that however grand and glorious world we sculpt

Will become nothing but a paper written-

by an old man scribing another rendition of an empire's fall. 

Not even first and laughably not even last.