The unblinking eyes of Killer
glazed with thought in the dark
Thinking thoughts of blackness
of the director of this park

Pre-teens are in favor here
he likes them young and tender
He's supposed to be a good man
Take care of this social-center

Now suddenly, the silence is broken
There are sobs of pain and shame
Whispers of consolation
to a child that will be un-named

I’ve seen and breathed and felt
The wood-works
The earthworks
The weavings
The paintings
And the writings
Project images of realities
And my heart pounded countless times
And restless like a heated desire
That makes me yearn to journey more
Into the past, and the present
And the days yet to dawn upon our moor
With the beauties of these hands
Mentored by the mind's eyes.
This heated desire
Is a true journey to an origin
Of a magic world hidden inside us.

The autumn leaf in me dries
it’s now merged
with the soil of time
under the debris of eternity.

The winds can't upsurge,
nor can earthquakes part,
nothing in life can unite,
torn feathers so far apart,
once they are,
separated forever..

the vestige of hope
like an autumn leaf
in me withers,
now submerged
under piles of memories
once greened,
in sunshine

Treading in the mucus of the lungs of despair
A child blindly splashing around
Franticly trying to generate enough noise for any passersby to notice
Alas, no one does
Plummeting to the bottom
Succumbing to this tormented inadequacy
Using the toxic lung butter of fear
To spread on the moldy bread of self deception
It feeds my insanity that no better life exist
I’m dying a slow starving death
Emaciated from a life spent without emotion
It is the bread killing me
But I do not know it