Poetry

Days of Memory

Days of Memory

In the days of memory
Of dazed states of mind,
In the days of memory,
We almost lost mankind.

Long and horrific was that night.
With the smell of the dying,
And the unforgettable sight,
Of lost children crying.

Mothers were forever wondering,
If their babies were to be born.
Fathers were forever pondering,
If their kin would see a dawn.

All the pain and misery,
Will the teachers tell,
Our children of our world history?
Telling of how it fell.

They never cared of what we were taught.
Now there’s no one left to blame.
Our days are growing short,
We could have lost the eternal flame.

Mothers will tell of the sorrow,
Fathers will tell of the lame.
Both fear tomorrow,
For it holds the same.

In the days of memory,
Of dazed states of mind.
In the days of memory
We lost mankind.
Written somewhere between 1983-86 by Dincara

Dreams

Namerif

They were dancing skyward,
Licking and flicking around the frame.
They were frightening the occupants,
Never to be ever so tame.

Their terror now reigned supreme,
Dancing everywhere and anywhere.
Ultimate control and ultimate chaos,
Able to dance without a care.

They had everybody screaming,
Running loose and hysterical.
They had them all empowered,
With the dance quite majestical.

The screaming's pitch shifted,
It was higher yet quite strong.
Namerif had come to the rescue,
To quench the dancers song.

Paradise Contradiction

Calling Inspiration

The sky was ablaze out toward the west,
The darkness creeping slowly from the east.
Stars were appearing casually one by one,
Like pinholes pricked by an unseen beast.

Night sounds of a chaotic orchestra,
Music of insects and my idle machine.
Drifting off into thoughts and solace,
Hoping to see things as of yet unseen.

Trees stand in dark foreboding shadows,
Serving as memories of a time not gone long.
When powers were constantly standing over us;
Watching over our deeds both right and wrong.

The shadows lift every once in a while,
As the moon appears from behind a black cloud.
Shedding knowledge upon those unknowing:
Individuals standing out amongst a gathered crowd.

The trees lose their overbearing presence,
No longer are they ominous and frightening.
There is a new wave spreading amongst the people,
Both illuminating and quite enlightening.

One world in it’s sky, land, and sea;
Is a thought with emotion running through the deep.
Surely this is not an impossible undertaking,
When there’s nothing left to do but to sleep.
Originally written in the year of 1993

Ramblings

Where's the Wall

Where's the wall I'm trying to find,
So I can drive these thoughts from my mind.
To receive it's pleasure I need the wall,
Then I can see what I'm searching for.

The body craves for it's addictive damage,
Yet the soul creates a new way to manage.
Although the wall is hard and cold to the touch,
The body still desires it's violence too much.

The head becomes numb from the bashing,
Images smashing their way through the crashing.
We continue to stagger through until, thud!
Recognition has the sweet taste of warm blood.

I found the wall I've been searching for,
Why wasn't it there when I looked before.
But the wall is too high as you can see,
That there's nothing of what used to be me.

Serenades to a Priceless Princess

A Silent Thought

I tried to write a love song
I thought about writing a poem.
I ended up writing this note,
That you can read at home.

It’s a place where I want to be,
Is closer than I thought,
Once over the Sea of Tears
I arrived in a safe port.

Within this port's fortress,
Whose walls aren’t of stone,
I find that I’m never lonely,
Although I way be alone.

This port offers variety,
More than can be told.
This port is in my blood,
Here I'll stay till very old.

You can't find this port on any map;
Nor can it be seen from the skies above.
For you are this port
And It is you that I love.

Special

Shelter in Each Other

Bitter cold winter winds blow hard,
Across the harsh unforgiving plains.
A coldness to pierce the warmest heart,
Tormenting those caught up in it’s path.

Unable to see the forest through the trees,
A decade would pass before the fog could lift.
Like overlapping snakes entwined without contact,
Criss and cross their own paths would twist.

The heat moves in and out of mirages,
On the lonely empty desert sands.
The sun burns deep into uncovered flesh,
Tearing at their faces in their hands.

No matter how unpleasant the weather,
Henry and Lyn have found their shelter;
With each other, for each other,
More so, they found shelter in each other.

The Garden

Behind a Closed Door

The Wanderer prepared for his trip,
Not looking forward to his absence,
As on his travels throughout the barren void,
He can only think of Garden's fragrance.

The Garden, is never left unattended,
Although the Wanderer is behind a closed door.
He has never seen us at work,
Nor does he know, that we are called the Esor.

He knows of our quiet presence,
Freshening the basis of all growth.
The Wanderer and the Esor's alliance,
Is a powerful, solemn, unspoken oath.

We are one of the many Tenders,
Who care for the Garden's well being;
Keeping it fresh and vibrant,
Appeasing the great All Seeing.