Soldier Boy

Put that gun down, boy
And breathe the new air
Isn’t it everything you hoped it would be
When the world was falling around you?
Bodies beneath the red snow
Faces shattered, torsos perforated

Weren’t your bloodied screams
The stuff of your dreams?
And your comrades’ last words,
Didn’t they wish to carry on?
All for this mountain of freedom,
Hope, dreams and death

Pick up that gun, soldier
Muster your earlier courage
The war for your ideals is over
Now it’s time to defend them



I find it ironic
How some can call
An underdeveloped baby
A parasite
And in the same breath
Turn around to talk about human rights
When there are 7 billion parasites
Walking this very Earth
And it’s not about being
Or being
It’s about being
That if you’re going to
Dehumanize one
You should Dehumanize all
Because if it bleeds red
And I bleed red
And you bleed red
How is it any less
Of a red bleeder?

Isn’t it because it’s easier
To put down a rabid pitbull
Than a frightened puppy?
To hang a mass murderer
Than an innocent man?
To abort a parasite
Than kill a baby?

P/N : Departing on that morbid note, I would like to say that I know this is less poetry and more structured prose. This is a controversial topic and I know that this opinion is becoming less and less popular, but I think it’s important¬† for us to understand the power of the words we use. The way we can word the things we do reflect the way we view them. Don’t forget that.


You were the perfect stranger… until you said hello and invited me into your world. It was a mistake, like all great adventures, but I couldn’t say no to those almond eyes and that playful tone with which you beckoned me to you. And we were there within a moment of spontaneity, casting off all indecision and practiced conversation, exposing our raw cores to this carefree feeling. As if the cocoons we had so carefully spun in our years of rebellion were simply a vague illusion with which we faced the world, fogging up our vision with narrow concepts for the sake of our single minded security. But were you saint? Or were you sinner? Your piercing glare told two tales, each eye with a different history, each pupil a gateway to a completely different world. And I was lost in both. One second bliss. The next despair. And it was so addicting. So entwined were we within each other’s anatomies I could feel my heart beat through your chest.

You gave me life, stranger, but ever since you left I’ve heard nothing but the sweet sound of death.

Cold Shoulders

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Little angel

Why don’t you whisper anymore
Of your conscious counsel
And your warning words?
Where are your doubtful querires
And those wishful sentiments?

Where are you?

Has my ignorance driven you away
To new heights,
To other shoulders?
Have mine grown too cold
For your delicate wings?

Little angel

I can only hear the devil now


Malum Cogitatio


Be still, evil one
Like the low tide
On a moonless night
Bequeath unto your tendrils
A spirit of calm sincerity
And when you stalk the innocent
Wait like the earth
Give them reason to sleep
Create peace where there is none
Salvage unity in the midst of dissension

And if your rotten heart still quivers,
If your depraved mind still seeks chaos
And your deserted soul still wishes for the end
Stow away the last of your hatred,
Lock it tight within your senses,
Grasp your sanity by the helm
And steer your ship to the nearest asylum

We're just everyday Heroes… that happen to like Pandas.