Asleep in a lie

The only serum for a lie, truth..”

I had laid with this lie for years, a perfect union. 

Nightly we lay together, clothed in gentle denial. 

My eyes had only seen that which a lie would allow. To this weary eye, a prayer for sightless.

You have turned me into this lie, a world carefully crafted by images and sounds. 

Because of you my world no unforgiving and forgein. 

Truth had come in like an adulteress, undressed me and naked I lay, stripped of all that was real to my flesh. 

Trembling at the thought of this truth, and the foot prints that continue beyond what can be touched. 

You’ve clothed me in words not my own, 

meanings well constructed but none did my soul recognize. 

Before I slept, 

I pleaded with my dreams, do not wake me, 

cover me..

Truth pierced night,

from a single scar, 

a light,

leads me to realities inside,

beyond this shroud of site.


Death grows 

The raven had said, it is all a nightmare that dreams, death now has grounds to grow. 

Their black and white is doubtful.

Within their silence villains roam.

Judgement will find those that set themselves as judge, in a land and streets unlike their own, that death may grow and nightmares show. 

Before the raven departed he spoke, “it is not enough to know but to fight this death that grows.”

Gray tongue

They speak with gray tongues, structures are different but the tongue is still speaks in a language of gray.” 

Tongue of colors truth bound by fear.

Freedoms to disagree suppressed by lead skies.

Different structures but the same gray walls, truths are disquieted so lies spoken in riddles and broken rhymes, are all that is heard(hourly)through paid independent journalist of gray tongues, a tongue dipped in profits of gold. 

Journals filled of truths, written with pained pens, eyes of tearful witness to greeds powerful war, but no one hears, for these truths disrupt lifestyles and ways of life that bare more weight to some, then a child dying from greed’s war. 

Tongues of gray will determine what the truth is and how it is to be written and heard by the people. The freedom to determine and to hear will be stripped and the journalists that writes of colored tongue will be harder to find and hear for they speak contrary to the tongues of gray dipped in gold. 

Tongues of gray will oppose the forgein tongue through carefully penned attacks for they will write according to the gold given, being handed a power to condition and change behaviors through a simple sentence. 

“HR5181. Countering foreign propaganda and disinformation act.” Signed into law on dec 24th of 2016. 

A different quite

When your quite can no longer lay me bare, no longer undressed by a language only the heart in its naked self can no.

When your quite can no longer still me the heart begins to drift. 

When your quite changes, rattled emotions hear every deafening sound. 

When your quite changes, 

quite changes me,

quite changes you,

shadows once stilled by love, begin to roam. 


Art should be free to expose, beneath grey skies, the shadows that stagger at noonday.” -Beth 

Poetry should be able to flow openly through a barren land, producing fruit freely, after its own desire.

Art should cause, with a single glance, a flow of questions where settled answers have erected themselves like statutes.

Poetry should be able to judge you and I, for we have set ourselves as judges aganist what we seldomly understand.

Art should draw with the stroke of a sketch pencil, what we fear to explore.

Poetry should be a voice, not or own but the voice of those the world does not give ear too.

Art should be able to draw the demons we hide from, whether it be, the demons of color, of different thoughts, of words, and of truth. Art should be able to expose hidden demons and thus draw the angles that fight politically excepted demons of light. 

Poetry should write of these demons and of the angels, for we carry and embrace them both. Poetry should expose the angels that except the demons that separate for we war with both. Poetry should write of the demons that walk with war, poverty and prejudices.

Art and  Poetry should expose the demons upon the backs of angels, we carry both all the days of our lives, art and poetry should be the window that gives clear view. 

Art should draw of heartbreak and hope, poetry should write of this for both stain the heart.

Art and poetry should let the pen write and draw on paper uncensored. 


Leaders will tell of war, the way they want you to hear it. War will never tell on itself.” 

Leaders tell of war, the way they want you to hear it,

a mix of deceptions and flavored victories of freedom fighters.

War will lay claim on children. Create the perfect picture, and through social media emotionalism is birthed, justifying the moderate rebels. 

War has many spoils to be taken, the richer the land, the greater the fight and the more desperate to produce regime change, in the name of more power. 

War has many facets. A war on truth, no guns required. Flood social medias with enough fake news, the people will cry out for truth, from a government laying in  wait to censor all that is written and spoken. Flood the people with lies and propognads, the government will control the truth and grow the lie. 

War kills more then the body, the mind is torn that it be controlled by whatever lie leaders decide should our truth.

War destroys more than structures, war destroys hope, a way of life, starves not just the body of a child but the laughter and innocent love of people. 

War has stories untold, the story of a refugee. It is not the refugees that are the problem but rather the goverment that goes to war through freedom fighters and moderate rebels, creating the refugees. It is not the refugee that should be questioned but rather the goverment that creates them. 

There are many types of war, 

silent wars on the mind, body and tongue.

Silent wars aganist the truth and yet never aganist a lie. It is not the lie they need to silence but rather truth. 

What war fails to tell is, truth. 

To be lead by pained truth is far greater than being lead by the gentle lies of war, of moderate rebels and freedom fighters.