Alive and Scared

Alive and Scared

Oh what a time to feel alive
On a quiet night in a high concrete forest
Walking in the dark
Guided by fluorescent lamps
Left unshielded by third storey curtains

Alive on the last spurt of energy
After a long caffeinated orgy of ingenuity
Scared of the dark
Blinded by white glares
Of unquestioned strobes of disapproval

Oh what a time to feel scared
Afraid at once of this fragile existence
Staring at the mountain
Alone, unprotected, unsheltered
Of dreams piled through the clouds of tomorrow

Scared of a ceaseless ocean
Dragging a lifeless body away, away
Not drowning, yet
Floating forever on bouys
Of duties and responsibilities and trials

Oh what a time to be alive
Oh what a time to be scared
On the cusp of greatness lest the courage fail
On the cusp of despair lest the hope prevail
Woe be to who in this battle of self?
I'm alive and scared
I'm alive, I'm scared

-x-x-x-

© Parched For Rain

The Human Stage

The Human Stage

The stage is set for the day
For a series of improvised monologues
Delivered for an impact, precise, well rehearsed
Then, the lapping up of ever effervescent praise
A silent and quick exit left
The stage, reset for a new day

Of course, the exit never exists
For one stage leads to the next
All floating, temporary, for improvised performances
But an inner stage, in secrecy of the sacred ungods
A silent memoir of perseverence
The inner stage, always exists

The questions arise, the answers arise
Never together
The forlorn couple in forlorn love
Destined apart
Between the mirror mirages and the what-the-fuckery of voiceovers
The checks and balances are frailer than a lunar crescent

I keep an eye out for sudden hands out of shut windows
An eye out for recognition and its eventual avoidance
Treading on a brownian path for amoebic sustenance
Encapsulating the happenings of an omnipresent present
I keep an eye out for each new stage
I keep an eye over the levee, lest it break

I hear an occasional shout to let it flood over
More shouts and cheers to let the levee fail
I laugh, I laugh at their temptations
I laugh, I laugh at their hopes
I laugh till I'm alone on my stage
I'm alone where it all matters

Here all is sacred
Unblemished, ungodly
The performance ceases
The stage ceases
I'm alone
I'm me

-x-x-x-

© Parched For Rain

Monuments

Monuments

Build on you men, build on!

Build that which may stand tall and strong through quake and flood
Build that which may make you forget the price of your blood
Build that which may inspire a generation of scornful scions
Build that which may inspire a sacrifice of a thousand toothless lions

Build a monument - Oh men of misery!
Build with your hands and with your trickery
Build till your backs fork out of you
Build for you know what is true

Call in your experts and engineering technicians
Call in your lenders and your men of due diligence
Call in the number crunchers and the book keepers
Call in the three marketeers and let them seek the seekers

Build on you men, build a monument for me!

A monument where the river rerouted
A monument where the trees uprooted
A monument where the land was tough
A monument where the sea was rough

Is it not hope, that you cherished forever?
Is it not beautiful, the fruit of sweet labour?
Is it not love, all your prayers and cries?
Is it not just, that one small sacrifice?

A monument to your fists with hammers and sickles
A monument to your pens and swords and shields and fickles
A monument to the greed where you headfirst delve
A monument to the apathy of a father of twelve

Build on you men, build that someone may build one for thee!

-x-x-x-

© Parched For Rain

An Anomaly In Ownership

An Anomaly In Ownership

To have and to have not
To hand and to hand not
The edges blur away
Was it mine to say?
Where it starts and where it ends
Defined by roads with sharp bends
In a finite space and an infinite void
A zero sum of sorrows and moments joyed
Of checks and balances that slowly wither
Of serpents and arrows and veiled slither
A sinking feeling of my own undoing
In moments that hearken an up-going
Where does it stop, where does it end?
Where do I start and where do I mend?
Is it not mine to say?
No, the edges blur away

-x-x-x-

© Parched For Rain