“Run from what’s comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I’ll be mad.” – Rumi

Some recall the history
A girl present
As thus did she stay

Her presence, lingered
Many forsaken, forgotten years 
In Silence.
She laid 

There are those that would still question
Despairingly, on this day

But for what reasons? 
Sadly, this I cannot say

She was near
Mercy, that she sought!
Tormented from lies
Her decency, and kindness
Her weakness..
Yet now.. too much lost

She put them away, 
Buried, in her thoughts.

She was pained
This is true 
But why so?
Many beg the question
But I have no answers 
Only perhaps a clue

She was present 
Perseverance, proceeded her way
So she recalls 
Days when the sun
Shone brightly
But now not so
She so then, would begin on her way

She would watch the shows,..
But never would she stay
An anguished mind
A mountain, she would find
A mountain, One day 
She knew, she must climb

She was gone
No one seemed care
But her memory,
Could not be forgotten
Not on this, or any other day

Thus then there were those whom rumored
Gone should she stay!
But was she?..
Still, many man, and women would say

She then, 
Many, thought lost
Which stories 
Would she suffer not?
Many men, would soon suffer their lot!

She, the one of which I speaketh
Is she present still to this day?
She played no show
That is all I can say

Such fools, she thought..
Her soul, already lost
Times of reflection
Did not prevent what she sought

She is neither present
Neither is she near
At now least,.. 
No longer lost

But unto us, 
One day hear
She would laugh!.. 
Those whose memories
Thoughts, ring many 
What... did they fear?

From this girl
Present, gone, or be her near
What pains did fortune bring?

She only knows these answers.
Do not betray what you hear

She may be lore 
She also may be true
Be it a tale
That tightens as the screw

Too late now
All she has seen 
Many say they can hear
Her anguished, forfeited screams

She would not wish to become a mystery
This I do know
But how, I cannot say
Not yet, on this day

She eternally will sow
What many men have sought..
The pains we have forgotten
She remains, the begot

She is not present
She is not near
But you may hear her quaint whisper,..
One day in your ear

"I am now your History,
I am nowhere.
I am here." 

-awrj

When Such becomes the day
When man not hurryeth away
To glory, each man reaches!
But I ask... 
For what thou doth this glory say?...
"To each go his own, to last, least he stray."

That which we hear
Or that one simple tear, 
Should it feed?...
Or only heighten your fears!

Should then, what we becometh
The answer that still lies..
Men will gather, Many will pray
Is it chimerical devils that are at play!?

If on this day
A man may doth turn his ear
A Nod leaneth near...
What words doth one hear? 
Least not
Answers lie, 
Only within the fray

Fear findeth nearest its lot
Your reflection, you then see!
Time holds our voices
And all, that we say
Quickly hold your fears

So Should once become the day
Worries fraught not
But for answers, still they stray..
Upon golden rooftops
As said true, least we cover straught!

What riddles and puzzles you may ask?
Lies here, and falls fast
I cannot answer.
But only to say...

Beest not thou dismayed!
Should once become the day
A simple man cometh,
Many a fate.. haveth you weighed!

But this is a tale, 
And one not one so simple...
As years, silently lend 
A world grants to no man glory stretched
Behind the glory granted
Be it amoung us, dare be it ripe for kindle

Hidden within the ghost of thy reflection
Only then, will the riddles become revealed
Your shadow will guide you the way
And only then. 
Should you then, become.. The Day.

- awrj

To those who came before
Great strides fall 
Least it be a task too tall

That we bask in their light
Only then.. to ask?
What is, not theirs..
But our plight?

And I tell you from the beginning
As I shall tell you from the end

We are but shadows cast beneath
The rolling and thunderess streams.

To those who come after
Great dreams we seek from afar
I say small words to you..
Take your task, but in doing so
Make it so, be until it righteous, even if small. 

-awrj

Should we still strive.. to live?

Sayeth he the man, Who has knoweth what Life, truly, is.

In a world we live

Amoung crowed streets, & hidden sins

Forgotten faces

We create, to avoid.. what lies within

The forbidden placed

That suffer, as we escape

Shrouded by our steps

But, blocked, within…

A task we are at last

Humans..

We shall fall fast!

The weeping, shall hear the calls of the suffering

Gather swiftly

And unto, our ultimately, and indeed, Timely, end

In the world, we now see

Hidden scars, Frequent lies & Forbidden tasks

Yet, still, No one dares to ask

What doth it take for us to then, again, believe?

A tear?

Or Perhaps a Scar?

Or have those that choose to erase..

It just takes a moment, to look afar.

I can only tell you my truth

A writer, once withered, now Fire under foot

To expose the cruelties of man

From which do we extend?

To a dying hand

What will be then?

You may ask in your dismay?!!

And I shall tell you on this day.

As the writer, hence, I no longer pray

But I judge not the gods

Not, on this, quiet, but untypical day.

But yet, the world that we once knew it

If blessed be the meek

We shall find soon see it..

Hence, then.. we all, will pray

And until it, our final, and silent scream

Of our selfish, narrow path,

That of silk or be it, of molten clay.

The world once lived

Finds you not tomorrow, but Today.

-awrj 6/10/2022

What Pain We Are Given
Most suddenly, it doth not come in a rush
But a lingering moment when you are there..
And then, you are not. 

The trials that sit and stare before us
Do not come as a strange surprise
They only look upon us
Strangers, upon uneven, wooden eyes

Then there are those which will come
From above, they cower below
As adults, we seem to know them
But alas, as children, we could never know

For this ode, I give before you
A story for one and old

There is no happy ending
Only words..
The never-ending, forever they shall last..
The most grievous of foes! 

Until my end, 
I will dip my quill 
And I shall tip it to my lips
As I smear the remains onto a letter..
Perhaps a letter, you sent...?

I see the lurking shadow
Will you ever see what frightful eyes
That in your envy you brought forth?
The innocence, now which does death lie.

To all, you say you love
But All fails inevitable
The ballast kept inside you..
The mirror betrays you
More often now than naught

Strangers will tell tales
Of the deeds you have so crafted
Such injurious seeds you have wrought!

You are the never-ending story
The misery which understands 
A weight which one day will swallow 
The silence you so desperately sought!

The end of this bent
A hard marrow will grow
Your weary tales, soon, as you..
Will become frail, told
I watch a miserable soul, 
Die before it can become old

All forsaken, the utter pain you bring
From words of praise and applause
These ties will timely bind you

The tales I write, 
Soon, will uncover your face
Who also parades as thus..

An eye is always watching 
And all of those, unto others
How many, or doth thy soul have it in you?
To know the grief, they too, suffered?

But, for a time left
Seek the fortune, the one; It was Never yours to have...
And the pain you brought within 
Cannot take the quill, from its true master's pen.

The nights grew longer

Sadness, a quiet ponder

My days, once filled with wonder

Now the rain cannot escape the thunder

Longing more, or fallen under..

And the nights grew shorter.

Whispers from forgotten graves

Breaths long taken

I awaken.

To days no longer filled with laughter and wonder

I close heavy eyes, life a weight too heavy

Do they see this flesh and bone?

For I am the grave. Molden mortar and stone.

Greed is a bottomless pit which exhausts the person in an endless effort to satisfy the need without ever reaching satisfaction.  ~Erich Fromm.

Founded away,

I hear the coins as they rattle

Once loud, once faint,

To Whom do they matter?

The moment I trusted, the time now; I can hardly see.

For the questioner, I am, least it be me

Forever.. coins above.. I hear their rattle.

Knowing not my unjust battle.

Mercy, forgotten, times will tell,

The fat bellies that walk above

Dust falls in bellows.

Hidden, forgotten. Time now eaten, raw, and rotten.

I stare at my face. I know not who is me.

From Weeping walls swallow

The rattling coins of gold, silver, and copper.

The unfortunate that followed

Little do I sleep..

I imagine the clock that rings,

Hour by Hour

I ponder those which came before me?

Scratches on walls, wishes go unanswered

With Words I tell tales

An unopened cancer.

And To Those that came before me..

My mind wanders. Which chapter did they see??..

Hidden, and forgotten,

An unwanted calling

What fate did you receive?

May this be my fate?

The many scars now long forgotten.

I lift my head. A withered task.

My lips whisper, as they ask…

Is it now me, which wears this mask?

I still hear the rustling, the clamouring of the hell into which I am fallen

Memories fade into crooked shades,

The rusty clock turns, with its unsharpened blades

Betrayed, I weep

As the world quietly sleeps.

I laugh at the dawn.

Time, but yet a drawing

It is not ours to keep

The Poisoned Coins rattle, as does the turn of the screw.

As I write this chapter, that now lies before you..

And for those whose feet walk freely

Those mountains you have climbed,

No matter how great, nor high

Should I tell you one last lie?

Lips move, but do not tell.

To your delight..? This be my hell!

Heed not, if my words astound you

Golden bars turned to rust.

I sketch these words

Should you never trust



The worthless price of the coins which rattle

Hidden away, in my cell, price unpaid

This I dare, my final battle.

I came to Paris to die.. said I

And to those I leave behind… no remorse, no more lies

 

And I ponder one day, if this mask is ever found;

Will they ever see beyond the face that once laid, 

Under the everlasting frown.

the demons that haunt me
they have no name
the failures which follow me, laugh hollow, I became..

the luxuries which taunt me
the biddings done due
these only serve to follow me
into the many, turned to few

what stain shall you leave me
as I reach for your breath
which torment will you allow me
as I struggle for my death