The Beast of Apocalypse

Jeremy Fish 

In the heart of the city,
lies an intersection road on the path of life,
where the seas of soul waves away in a vague,
fashion-filled colours of their mask hides their intentions.
The crowds sway in their pattern motion,
that is set by the laws of the Babylonian system.
Truth is obscured. Lies are Laws.
Though remain those who are rebellious to these rules,
but without a proper cause or understanding they are labelled punks.

A child with big innocent eyes,
plays on the streets,
Part of the rats and trash of society,
blinded by the sight of commercialized advertisements these souls were,
A child lost in plain sight,
No she is not to blame, neither is the parents,
who are struggling to provide for her.
It is us who should be blame.
We created this habitat for this innocence.
And it is us who released these young souls to mingle with the animals of the urban jungle.

Concrete is the ground,
A thick layer of separation from mother earth,
have left these men in their own reality of a world.
Man-made for man.
Controlled and lost to the subliminal messages of the tantalizing and seducing powers,
where the media are often projecting happiness as a bucks-worthy.
We are to blame.
We are ignorant of mother earth and lost touch of our true self.
We allowed our voices drown in lies.
We allowed a fake comfort to rule our life.
We were nothing more than animals.
Now we are the Beast of Apocalypse.
We are our own worse enemy.
With our hands shall craft the doom of mankind.

The Red Chair

I am not lost,
I sat on this red chair that will be the stage for me onto the world,
As the dancing clowns trained to entertain the polite ways of your progressive notions.
I sat on this red chair,
Not because my legs are tired from the burden of your lies that handed over unwillingly to me,
No, it is not because of the words that resonates your political ideas of a none existence of freedom that weights on the walking feet paced as a machine tracks of your society ,
No, not that either.
I sat on this red chair,
In this heavily congested with the wondering souls of your system,
Because I choose to sit here.

Here on the red chair,
is the place that i could fulfilled my purpose of existence,
To question on my existence.
Is to question my identity.
Who am I?

I am a man in the crowd,
I am a woman in the crowd,
I am the crowd.
I am you and me,
Him and her,
I am everyone and no one.
I am nobody.
I am the seeker and reader of your fates,
my presence in your life will be poisoned by the simple actions of my uncaring arms.

I am the puzzler of your riddled thoughts,
which swarms by the backwards subconscious medium of subliminal mind controlling media of your commercialized informations.
I am the man travelling in fairytale of your secured life,
and add no changes but yet makes your thinking impaled by my mere mentions of your existance.

I am the ever changing but yet constant,
I am the ever living but yet always dying.
I never existed at all.
I am in your mind,
I am your opposite and your equal.
Shadows was my past and the light is always my future.

I sit on this red chair,
because no one else will.
Nobody wish to stand out in this grey world,
Nobody really cares,
And in every negative spaces there would be me,
I am your Yang.
I am your Yin.
I am the balance to the scale of the universe properties.
I am here because of you..
Because you too are apart of this expanding universe,
thus you are me.
So I am nobody.
Mr nobody will I always be.

Elderly Beauty

 A woman of age that twice the days that I had lived on this earth strutted her way along in the most majestic posture that bolds her laid back elegance. The tropical sun shines brightly piercing through the silhouettes of the clouds and overgrown branches of the plants that brightened the area with the calming green luminance that sways with the cool breezy winds of smoked filled air. The sunshine dances on her golden skin of perfection as her body moves subconsciously to the beat of the rhythm of the funky jazzy symphony that echoes from my broken down old laptop. What a blessing sight it is for this naive melancholic sod to view such a beautiful creature? How did this young stubborn boy gain such luck to even be in the presence of this angel? She was and is perfectly beautiful in every detail from her small delicate frame of a body to the worn down with experience skins but yet she proudly wore them the beauty of her forgotten golden days. Nevertheless they still holds firmly the strength of an everlasting beauty which is now covered only by the simple clothing of a tied-dye silk dress which bolds beautifully her sexy curves. Her shoulder length hair was damp by a recent wash from the daily swim in salty seas as the light hazel brown highlights begins to mirror the shine of the sun as she passes into the garden of mundane routine. Her big brown eyes that hold the misery and beauty of her souls hide behind the stylish hippy sunglasses which balance warily on her sharp button nose. Her lips were in the washed out peach color but yet so sweet and tempting for this young man to crave for a kiss from those peaches. Her face was so adored by happiness in her youth is now shadowed over the disappointments of life. Here is a soul that had the decent value and a fine piece of mind with the most beautiful heart and beauty to share in her young days but oh the world can be such a cruel battlefield when a colorful butterfly like her could be eaten by the simplest predators. After years of her souls and inner shines being slowly consumed along with her beauty, that is when she said she feels the pain. She would never fall in love again. How unfortunate for this starving writer who has already caught under her spell.

A woman walks away with her daughter, the successor of her beauty, while the world blind to see their simple beauty.