Part Duex

Try not to hide behind things
that give away your lies' lines;
sneak beside the trees, through the grass and twigs and leaves,
like the snake that you are,
slithering into any crack in the foundation that you can find.

If I could tell stories, I'd want to tell them just like you do.
Lies never seemed more real.

Caught; but where's the truth hiding?
Sought after, all in due time.
What matters, now, is whether this is ending or beginning.

If I could tell stories, I'd want to tell them just like you do.
Lies never felt more real.

So purposeful, the notes singing through strummed strings;
the frets so worn, but worn by me.
They were my frets, and they were my strings.
You took them.
You took them and gave them away.
And all for what?
Don't we all have bills to pay?

Red

Blood is red for a reason.
To remind us we're all the same,
no matter color of skin,
beliefs, faith, or season.
A color of love and anger,
a line sometimes blurred
between the two by dirty fingers
smearing the ink,
rest assured those fingers belong to hands
that are controlled by minds that never think.

The color of love,
a beautiful existence;
a thing we cannot see.
Only by feeling,
and, for some, by messages from great distance,
can we truly know that it's a real thing.

The color of rage,
a thing ill-composed,
red turned black is
the story usually told.
Vigor and vitality
snuffed out in an instant of greed,
seeing only shapes and thinking in waves
of feelings and distant connections
that the mind can be relate.

The color of blood, the color of life;
a color of strength that causes so many to unite.

Blood is red for a reason.
We bleed red for a reason.

White

The color of innocence.
Falling from the sky
in unique formations of molecules imposed
upon the very air we breathe,
the color of air in the winter wind; a sigh.

The color of bone, solid and composed;
rigid and well defined; yet so easily broken.
Tooth and nail, solid but frail.
Inevitability is a token;
a universal rule:
that all things innocent
cannot last,
except when in the presence of fools.

The color of paper, all colors combined;
every single detail of line so well designed
drawn only to take away the blankness of the sheet;
art is destruction, and destruction is sometimes discreet.

Black

The color of birth, the color of death,
no color at all to be found in its depths.
Cast onto the various environmental shapes
in which we're surrounded by every single day.

The color of nothing, the color of memory,
the color of the pasts we try to forget in vain, it seems.
The color of night, the color of coal;
the color preceding diamonds;
and for some: the color of the soul.

When we step blindly from the darkness
and into the world, inevitably towards another place just as dark
as the space between the iris and eyelids,
keep in mind that how you finish things
is just as important as how you start them.

Acknowledged Knowledge on the Ledge Knowing.

a lack of understanding remains; "who makes the tests?"
is exceptionally blatent,with its effects on the rest.
residing in upright houses, flat-topped desks
for writing and judgements, words like waves, as the crest.
judgements of intelligence
a bias remains
calculate relevance
by burning the page
with red ink.
inform through research,
conform through ignorance.
elusive,maintain the search:
fire- full steam ahead!

shortcomings ensued, divulged prophecy;
push comes to shove: a stone cast, miserably
into th water, a destroyer of peace-
image of reflection immediately recedes.

we are depleted, but not defeated.
we are cast down, but not cast out.
opening our books once more,
finding our places
to succeed without failure
is to prosper, without anger:
we strive.

Citizen Journalism.

Say you see beyond.
Say you see right through the masks we all put on-
the mask that's at home on you.
Scorn without discrimination,
cuts without prejudice.
Walk the tightrope with determination
until you actions stir up the winds.
Your assumptions are boundless,
and founded on thin air.
Affections are founded by hunger, by lies shared.
By lives smeared.

The Red (Tape) Sea.

Wage war for net gain,
a profit-driven virus-strain:
infecting our senses; concepts of our messes.
Tangible: blood on the pavement.
Intangible: love, hate, and music.
Money keeps the world on its toes.
Report the story so everyone knows
(everyone knows...just what you want them to know)
Who decides what we buy?
Who decides what we know?
Terrified daily by the way we live,
the way that we're controlled.

Cut the strings.
Move your limbs without aid.
Without aid.
Can we survive?
Can we survive...without trust?
Without choice?
Without being able to use our one true voice?
Without truth?
Without hope?
Without being able to see that we're caught up in ropes?
(No gain, no gain, no gain, no movement; no dreams, no dreams, no dreams, no improvement)

Vote or die, they tell us, but what's the difference?
We'll have the plug pulled no matter what the outcome is.

We're always drowning....
feels like we're drowning...
drowning in red tape.

Bookmark.

Coda.
     Come back to the bookmark
     (that marks our page)
Titles.
     Pictures we've painted
     (to show what words can't convey)
Stories.
     Told through blending truth
     (and fiction; at times, one and the same)
Choose.
     what your truth is.
     (wisely.)
Choose wisely.

Where Have You Been?

You've been gone for so long.
Crucified by the persecutors of truth.
Convictions held for granted.
Superstition is in high demand.

Coming in too fast, overshot the runway; taken to heart, now-
the futility of reason.
Solid-state compromisation.
Belief beyond doubt- illogic prevails.
(Sanity cannot coexist with the snow.)

Warmth from the solace of spring, the gentle embrace of the breeze;
the sun and the clouds create a kaleidoscopic painting...for our eys to view.
Strings emblazened by the outward force (the rebirth of the trees).
Bells ringing in a joyful chorus (the resurrection of green).
Ears- basking in the heartfelt eulogy: in memory of winters long past, and just past;
barely survived, we barely survived.
Winter dies just in time.
(We our reminded in the knick of time.)

You've been gone for so long, crucified by the persecuting ice;
the lack of valor in truth.
You've been gone for so long, hiding underneath the sheets of frost and ice,
hidden from our view.

Strings ring in harmony.
(We are in harmony)
Dissonance is nowhere to be found.
(As the wind blows)
Smiles fade like waves at sea.
(In our sails: fully opened)
The sounds dissipate like the rains.
(We'll need both hands on the reigns)