Window, Sill

 

As I look through the window in a daze,

I find myself staring at the sky-maze,

Blues and whites interloping,

While the Sun, I see it through the maze walls, shining.

 

Wind keeps the autumn leaves afloat,

And it carries songs of love and hate and sorrow,

So I’d just rather stay inside,

Waiting for those graceless airs to pass by.

 

Tonight, I’ll sit on the windowsill,

Smiling, viewing as not all the stars are staying still,

All just illuminated by the Moon,

While outside by the window, I swoon.

 

Sparkling eyes and shooting stars,

As I hop into the grass out in the backyard,

Making up constellations,

Telling me about all my future operations.

 

 

Fictional Heartstorms

 

Look in the books, oh look on the pages,

Worlds that cure souls that are set on stages,

Only to say that you're entertained

And hide the fact that your heart is stained.

 

Imaginative, clever but unreal,

And yet they continue to make us feel,

Tear us apart and piece together

A version of us that's far greater.

 

Endless creation, we are our own gods,

Where every ending yields a few new starts,

Distant yet present duality

That makes us question reality.

 

We always realize, regrets belated,

Lost in the mazes we have created,

Yearning for nonexistent concepts

To mend the pain caused by the context.

 

Sensory wrath, emotional fission,

Curated by us with grand precision,

Intense feelings, obsolete thoughtforms

Ending up in fictional heartstorms.

 

 

Corvids on the Battlefield

 

Corvids on the battlefield,

They have survived through it all,

The fight didn't hold no yield,

So they're calling out, "caw!"

 

Corvids, why haven't you fled

From that devastating war,

When intelligence you had

Enough to say more than "caw!"

 

Corvids, you crows and ravens,

Against all pigeons and hawks,

You fought hard for your havens,

You never gave up your caws.

 

Corvids hidden in the dark,

Reunite and fight the claw,

In this damned world, leave your mark,

Call out for your brothers, "caw!"

 

Corvids on the battlefield,

Out on the grass, dry and bleak,

Your black feathers are your shield,

And the wisdom's in your beak.