Hunting Souls

The platinum fog surrounds reality’s vision from life going about its simple disposition.
The echo of death-screams can only be heard while waiting for the light to give back day in reverse.

Death likes to work in the shadows, using the shrowd while firing lustrous tipped arrows.

The lost souls have nowhere to hide as life can’t see the dark between the living-disguise.
A night filled with silver skies as the Moon helps death to ambush its surprise.

The lost souls of Earth run for cover because death is one mean mother fucker.

The Paradox of Death

Living, killing the living, creating an unbalanced mess.
Can you see the destruction life creates for itself?

Life steps forward as death repents.
Sons and daughters are learning respect.
Adults live with ignorance – worshipping money instead.

The paradox continues to rise as death begins to cry.
Can’t you see the future ahead?
Death can’t live once all are dead.

Death Recites

Death respects the old.
Death sheds a tear for the young.
Death is quick with the poor.
Death takes it time with the rich.
But most of all – death always recites:
“I’m coming for you all!”

Death Is

Death is the light.
Death is the dark.
Death is the hand of painting life as art.

Death is loud.
Death is silence.
Death starts off –
to make you frightened.

Death is your friend.
Death is your foe.
Death relaxes your breath
before scratching at your throat.

Death is.
Death is not.
Death could or could not.

Death loves you.
Death drinks your soul.
Death comes with wisdom, don’t you know?

But most important of all – Death will come and hold you just before you go.

Red blood to spill

The orange glow of dawn shows life ready to smell another rose.
The breeze from the gentle wind ignites receptors built within.
Another day to feel, smell the rain, let the lemon juice sting with pain.
Hear the children’s laughter; the cold brings numbness while the flames deliver the answers.
Death wants to take all this away. The lush green from the trees awaits, evaporating fumes from the dissipating black coffee.
Life commands free will.
Death wants red blood to spill.

Can you feel the ghastly chill?
Running up through your spine at will.