Speaking of the past...

[asilentmassacre]

writing that poem the other day made me think of some i've done in the past. Here are three and only three...

Bullet

Bought, my purpose is clear:
Bringing death far and near.
Settled down on in an ash-chamber
Like a compact cylinder of fear.

The explosion hurtles me, spinning,
Down fast to the beginning.
Outward I fly,
Inwards I dive,
Suddenly a cry,
Emanation: Inside.

Shudders, the vessel does,
Its tissues and organs abuzz.
I remain there till death,
and when nothing's left.

Deep in the ground,
I'm buried around
The bones of the departed,
And back where I started.

III

So, we're standing here again.
The surf is hitting the beach,
and there's salt in the wind.
I try to talk,
but the darkness swallows my speech,
and we begin to walk.
I wish I could see your beautiful eyes,
but all I can grasp is your hand.
I hold it closer and I glance to the skies.
I hardly even notice the flies,
or the ice cold sand,
which I usually despise.
The clouds reveal the moon,
the light hits your hair just right,
I wish we didn't have to leave soon;
I think i'm falling for you,
all on our third night.

Nova

A burning question in my mind:
what is it we're trying to find?
The universe; vast and glorious,
is always looking down,
through the past,
at my small town.
Does it even make sense
to spend more than two dimes
trying to make reason or rhyme?
So, tomorrow i'll go out,
find a great spot,
and gaze to the heavens;
that's all that i've got.