I often find it hard to paint accurate pictures with my words, it's become a frustrating endeavor beyond the minuscule reaches of ease and laxity. Truly, beyond the thoughts inside my head I have an abundance of lines to place on the pristine white sheets of any number of pages given at any moment. Pages given to philosophy, others to mindless rambling, many more to plots and characters, systems, and even more to the raging fires of this hellish world. The evils and the good within people and the creation and destruction of lands, men, and societies.

Alas, I am rudimentary in my articulation, and refinement is evasive of me. So, please forgive my inexperienced banter and my lack of sense; these are the thoughtless thrashings of a madman.

Dedicated to those losing themselves in

the mindless, terrible entrapments

and situations created by

the human race

In my time on this plane I have come to realize that my eyes perceive the blue skies of the daytime. Others may say it's purple, even others grey, black, orange, or clear, but to me it will seem blue for the rest of my days. If I go blind I will remember blue skies. This is not because the skies are always blue, or even blue often.

In fact, vibrant blue skies, such being what my words bespeak, are seen as the most true ones. Calm, serene, in absolute peace, and bright. The colors of childhood picnics, or family walks, being in good company. It's the colors within songs of patriotism and songs of beauty. Portrayed in paintings as the one piece that, in itself, changes little and means much. It is a poetic masterpiece. This is because blue skies, and easy days are seldom found for some, and all-too abundant for others. It can be looked upon with a smorgasbord of emotions under both the looking glass of age, and the narrow view of youth. Blue skies, when under speculation, have meanings as varied as the planets of the universe, and once understood, a brilliance as amazing as the visage of stars on a moonless night...

Of course, that is merely my perception as I vie for a brighter day of blue. I look toward optimism and seek it out, I beseech the Father a drop of joy and generosity that I may find meaning in my days. This isn't how the general populace operates, and I recognize that skies can become grey, or pink, orange, black, red, any number of colors. It can tint itself purple and become dreary within moments, where before sunny and warm. I do not perceive blue because I am shallow, or even because there's a reason for it. I perceive blue because it's meaningful, and appreciated. I perceive blue because it represents what I look for, and for which I live.

     I bereave my place in society

I’d much rather listen to monodies

Than hear all this sheeps’ bleating.

The silent words within these

clear emotions, and the scenes

of torment. Ends matching means,

and no one cares at all.

It's hard to stand tall

when everything's a wall

blocking the path

to freedom with wrath,

covering our tracks

as we push into the darkness. 

On each other we place a harness

So we feel 'ahead,' but we're tarnished.

Therefore, I’m losing myself in waves of torment

Thinking: is this everything for which I wept

In this broken world? What had it meant?

Truly, this world is Evermore-bleak,

And the ravens circle right ‘round as I speak.

I’m myself becoming selfish, becoming my opposite.

I always saw the line, but never had I crossed it.

With the changes within, I’m becoming a caustic.

So God save my soul and it’s treacherous words,

Even though that is not what they truly deserve.

I pray for these things out of sorrow and hurt.

As a God who was pleased, and one who creates

I ask for forgiveness, for another times’ sakes.

Not which I’ve become, as my heart now hates.

Truly this world is Evermore-bleak,

And the ravens circle right ‘round as I speak.

Alas, all my time is being drained away

As if life is a game for others to play.

This is leaving me tired, hollow and drained.

Though, I am not alone, 

I've seen this at home,

I've seen it plain shown

In public or private

the public they cry it

all together, acconglomerate:

"Is this all life is, these troublesome games

played, all of which this shadow hames?

The people, their faces and all of their names

Haunt me as I move on, along in my journey.

Moving only with an EMT’s gurney.

This world, inhumane, won’t stop our hurting.

Truly this world is Evermore bleak,

The Ravens and vultures gather ‘round as I speak,

Each pecks at my soul with a carnivorous beak.

The world as it is? my complaints will not reach."

And they're right in their minds as they cry to the night,

screaming out beyond the sky "Why are all so unjust?"

And I tell you to trust, that it's you, and it's they, and it's us.