While on Hiatus. . .

by Anomalies Of Entropy

July 10, 2013

A brook breaks through rocks and branches.

Leaves blown into the wind brush up against the face of the sun.

It rises because we ask it to.

Shorelines lined with coconut and almond trees are haven

to the Alpha while clear waters harbor the Omega.

Each finger pulls its weight lest they all break under the palms pressure.

This was the world of my peoples.

Now the wind's filled with poison drawn from our ilk.

The sun doesn’t rise because of requests,

instead it’s transfixed by our grotesqueness.

Earth once red is now colored so by bloodshed

Which is penned into time by the (s)words of the “wise”.

This quill gripped by these fingertips is tired of being still:

I write for the acid that craves to drip from mind to tongue to ears /

Deafened by the hum of a “mother” that knows what’s best for you.

I write to liven the faces of “brave men” after they’re broken by strife instigated by

who knows anymore?

This quill gripped by these fingertips is tired of being still,

So I write for it because without it I would be irrelevant.

It has immortally etched my essence into fragments of paper scattered

across state lines and diasporic tides that slide across the sands .

I write for the clamoring hands of those that have lost hope in those

that preach about antiquated ghosts.

This quill gripped by these fingertips is tired of being still.

So I write to revive its light so that night may greet the day.

I write for those that shy away from themselves because we

All know the hardest thing to come to terms with is our selves.

I write for understanding, love, tranquility, conflict

resolution, confusion, and above all, absolution.

I write to remember the sins committed against

the earth by the “last man” who stands as its enemy.

I write to speak the truths that few can agree to,

cracking their coconuts open to let their waters flow into the

brooks obstructed by rocks and branches.

I write in the hopes a breakthrough will motivate us to

break through . . .

I write because it’s all I know to do,

simply put,

I write because I have to.

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Comments (1)

Anomalies Of EntropySep 2, 2013

A brook breaks through rocks and branches.Leaves blown into the wind brush up against the face of the sun.It rises because we ask it to.Shorelines lined with coconut and almond trees are havento the Alpha while clear waters harbor the Omega.Each finger pulls its weight lest they all break under the palms pressure. This was the world of my peoples. Now the wind's filled with poison drawn from our ilk.The sun doesn’t rise because of requests,instead it’s transfixed by our grotesqueness.Earth once red is now colored so by bloodshedWhich is penned into time by the (s)words of the “wise”. This quill gripped between these fingertips is tired of being still:I write for the acid that craves to drip from mind to tongue to ears /Deafened by the hum of a “mother” that knows what’s best for you.I write to liven the faces of “brave men” after they’re broken by strife instigated bywho knows anymore? This quill gripped between these fingertips is tired of being still:So I write for it because without it I would be irrelevant.It has immortally etched my essence into fragments of paper scatteredacross state lines and diasporic tides that slide across the sands .I write for the clamoring hands of those that have lost hope in thosethat preach about antiquated ghosts. This quill gripped between these fingertips is tired of being still:So I write to revive its light so that night may greet the day.I write for those oppressed by a matrix of expectationsinstilled by societal norms that force us to shy away from ourselves. I write for understanding, love, tranquility, conflictresolution, confusion, and above all, absolution.I write to remember the sins committed againstthe earth by the “last man” who stands as its enemy.I write to speak the truths that few can agree to,cracking their coconuts open to let their waters flow into thebrooks obstructed by rocks and branches.I write in the hopes a breakthrough will motivate us tobreak through . . . I write because it’s all I know to do,simply put,I write because I have to.