AFTER EARTH: Ascension

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Woke up feeling faceless, face up...

...he was still wearing her make up.

She was still scared from the break up, but engaged him as he surfaced death. 

Teenage angst, adverse effects....she said, "You have the worstest breath!"

"Dead.", he laughed. His thirst was next. This cycle happened daily...

Jonny drank to free his mind, and they'd break up when he'd get crazy.

She'd go to work, he'd start to remember: 

The center of life was affording the pleasure.

He tried to stay positive but folded to pressure..

He'd enter the strife...which, one day, was a letter:

"The shade of your eyes....and a love just as tender..

The splendor of time means today is a treasure.

Go on with confidence. Without me, you're better."

Into the breezy night, he closed his eyes. At last......exhaled.

What was this lasting hell? If casting spells, his magic failed.

'A ghastly, tragic tale.', he thought to self, and blamed the smack.

'I help others, but I can't help myself. How lame is that?'

Blaming 'hurt' but exchanging dearth. The pain's a jerk.

Smacked his head, he felt change was worse, his brain berserk.

A new aim in life? To play the clerk and receive the bawling..

End is calling. "But I never fall!!!",....he screamed, falling.

With a heart that we should document and art that chose to show us peace,

He posted his final piece, 'Pathetic', then drove out of the scene.

I know that he didn't mean to---.........I'll let him flow, it's supposed to be...:

"A part of me was poetry. Poetic prose imposed on me."

Poetic? No, it hurts to see. Death is living with the consequence.

How many awful kids were spitting, driven to rob you of your opulence?

He looked out, it was the milky way. He sat upon it....daunted.

The place was haunted, a silky stain, he dashed and laughed at comets.

R.I.P.

His unbroken promise: he would remain in passing lives he'd met.

After earth there was everlasting breath. How fair, the air was wet.

"Well, I guess there's a million things that I could cry about inside...

But I won't cry for fear of stardust creeping, leaking out my eyes."

Wax-poetic tithes. He's speaking to our grieving side,

In sheets of rhyme. He was bleak but, 'to each their own'...right? (a lonely lie).

After earth? Im still wondering what came before it..

..Wondering how this blundering came. Was Jonny the informant?

The thundering then kissed the rain and took my friend from me..

My apologies, "our friend". You see, it hasn't been easy..

Jonny's death was worthless if, after earth, there isn't peace.

Let's hope there is. I'll always preach of Jonny, one of our elites.

--

after all, light does create shadows

In a world full of sorrow and misanthropic tomorrows,

We drove slow cause the carload; hope and love’s what we borrowed.

Hope, we loathed cause it’s far though. Love, we took just to grow.

………....Its permanent glow melted us. Call us ‘snow’……….

Like a hex, from the sky, we spoke out, saying, “Why?”

We broke out in a cry, “Will love keep us alive?!”

The sky answered back: lightning, thunder and clap.

Might be under attack, but light began to fight back.

Sight bestowed a crude trap: to love is to hate.

Whenever we love its cause we got what we aint.

We left what we loathe. A new robe will undo…

The old load that we shouldered. Bid it Adieu.

The new road that we paved will take us away,

Until darkness pulls us back into the shade.

“I used to watch you sleep, befuddled by gloom

Curious as light crept into the room.

Furious at first, cause you seemed to forget…

Of love and of us, which I failed to expect.

I watched light turn to shade and then shade taken by day.

A give and take that I baked in, then you’d wake and take it away.

I felt safe, in a way, but knew dusk would return.

I wanted to burn it! I had much to learn.”

Light bends, with the shifting of the blinds.

It provides just a slight relief (unless it hits your eyes).

To hope is an acknowledgement of the same kind.

It helps to love a little, but I’d die if you weren’t mine.

On this road we’ve taken to, I stay quick to remind:

We joke ‘bout hope, and love to poke, but without it we are blind.

So, love is to shade as hope is to light.

I hope I always get to love you, today AND tonight.

I hope we stay brave. I love us that way.

Hope begets love and light begets shade.

listen to lives

Listen to this..

His life and the sky both curled up as they lie in a field with their hope. It’s defeat brought them close.

The demise left them broke. The defied look on both of the close friends was hopeless. Up they both choked.

Soon, one of them spoke, 

 “With a wide eye, I’m silenced. This life, and your kindness, is beautiful, but to look behind us is blindness.”

Forward. The path is both futile and crass, but to deny their presence is to deny their wrath.

They realized this and then laughed.

In hope did they meet and in hope can they stay. It’s not hopeless when both of you shape your own days.

"Make love to the future and give gifts to the morning. Backwards just bores me. It stores the past for me.”

, said boy to the sky, “No more mourning." 

an open book

(keyed rather quickly)

An open book is but a page. We read then turn, it slips away. Another page another day. We write it down, call it a play. We say it's life, the book we read. The one we wrote when stuck in grief. The one I write seems drunk and brief. But enough with me, I'm not in need. The papers thick just like the skin, And ink can bring clean to an end. It's scars remind us to give in. It's poetic. It's love is oxygen. And if we breathe, we'll end the story. The actors involved will all ignore me. I need their glow and "Hello, good morning"'s. I guess I'm saying I'm feeling boring. I think in fiction (life leaves me snoring).