TheSassafrasRoots

What if in a flash your life has added up to nothing What if slowly but surely your fate slips from your manipulative grasp What if in the end you are embarrassed to have your life laid out in front of you Does all of this really matter Will the dirt and coffin in which you are buried be ashamed To hold you and keep you company for ever more Will there be a light at the end of the tunnel Will all of our life's struggles be evaluated Will a large mysterious being of the heavens Come to give us our life's report card Honesty: F Loyalty: D- Trust: C Charity: F- Faith: D+ Will anyone care Will the earth's underground residents Re

The enemy In all evidence is time It continues to pass relentlessly Never stopping to give us a breath It wears away mercilessly Slowly but surely degrading our bodies and minds The enemy Is the most fearsome of warriors It is impalpable un-attainable One cannot simply Pull out a gun and shoot it Even as you read this The enemy Never lingers It continues its tireless fight Against us all And all that one can do In this hopeless endless fight Is to foolishly dream of alluding The enemy

Graves are useless things They are a place of sorrow and mourning Holes in which Allin tears we bury Not people But sickness and pain And the ancient rotting symbols Of a greater eternal thing That can never be buried The soul

The soul is a curious thing Born form nothing It it worth all but that It is the home of conscience It is the home of love But also that of hatred It is the most amazing thing about us It is also the most dark It is is enternal It is us

What if shamelessly This text became a haiku And ended right now

Why can't the stream of blood Flowing out of this man's head Turn into beautiful red ribbons Why can't the purring gun That this man is holding with terror Turn into a bouquet of lush red roses Why can't the bits of flesh Blown from this man's head Turn into gleaming red rubies Why can't the small dark tunnel Borning through this man's chest Turn into a path towards peace Why can't the despair fear and hate Ravaging this man's heart Turn into hope confidance and love Of a new life

Why are we so preoccupied with death An old bleached skeleton in a black robe With some kind of farming implement That he claims to use to reap heads Why do we kow the death-date Of all of these people Forgotten dictators and politicians Of what seems to be the Middle Ages And how they died They all died teh same way Isn't it obvious No not of tuberculosis pneumonia or cancer But at the hand of an ancient skeleton And his rusted tool That we seem to so foolishly worship

Can you hear the silence Of the wind blowing As the small white snowy beings Fall from the heavens On their way down They dance like fairies In little white dresses They giggle As the flutter Gliding through the air As the tormenting wind Bullies them around scowling As they land Their gentle fingers Caress the world Covering animals rooftops and trees Laying sweet frozen kisses On the delicate faces Of all the children Awaiting the snowy blessings

Time is the rhythm of the universe THe feel the pulse the beat Of the eternal song of life It's the pitter-patter Of nmaeless shoes on the sidewalk It's the blaring sound Of angry horns in the street It's a universal heartbeat It's the tick-tock of the world It is what all desire It is what all lack It is money and power and fame And what we all fear the most Is that our time Will finally run out

I hate punctuation They say it allows you to beathe As if simple words prohibited it Punctuation has no meaning Simpleton splotches splats and stains of ink Somehow proudly placed among words It ruins literature Like weeds in a garden It invades the page The humble resting place Of our words and ideas