In a field...again

A field.
Orange streaming from branches painted brown.
Secrets yelled in the middle of the city for nature's ears
Clouds billow smoke burning flesh.
Water, cleaning wounds and woodland creatures sigh as they watch.
Curled, fear crashing down.
A half empty pack of spirits, spent and wasted.
Humming.
Again, but a different pitch.
The boy listens quietly.
Years...Months...Days...

Tides of War

Blood has stained this battlefield,
bodies lay motionless.
Bodies of my past, present, and future.
The awful smell of carcass fill my nostrils
with the scent of pain and sorrow.
The sight of Death brings me to my knees.
I lay there for days in a cold sweat on the ground,
among the bodies of my enemies and loved ones.

I walk away from this battle with but a few scratches.
I am the only survivor.
Where will the tides of war take me?
I'll let my body flow in sync with the waves.
The war, now over, will give birth to new wars.
The fighting will continue for years,
but you will not find me on the battlefield.
Man upon man has died to the brutal hands of this war.
Death will always continue.

I've lost loved ones.
Her eyes were the stars, her hair was the river,
and her arms were my comfort.
The war engulfed her,
she was swept away by the tides of war.
I miss her.

I'm on the ground again.
Clear liquid streams down my face.
Tears of happiness, of anger, of hate and sadness, of fear.

Things hurt the most when you take the pain alone.
I'm running, running from the pain.
The pain of deceit, of fear, of happiness.
I'll always run.
Forever with the tides of war.

In a field

In a field, there is a table.
On the table are many things.

A glass filled with water, pens, papers, books,
and in the middle of the table is a typewriter.
The sound of the clicking can be heard as a person sitting in a chair at the table types away rapidly. As he types, vivid images of his past, and present flash around him. A soft humming sound breaks the clicking into silence. All that can be heard is the humming. Days go by as the boy sits and waits for the humming to stop. Years go by and the humming continues.

In a field, there is a table. The boy can not be found. Gone away with the humming.

The little lamp

Shining,
shining,
shining.
The bulb flickers,
and the night becomes still.
The trees outside make silent waves to the moon.
The blades of grass cry with the sun peaking over the horizon.
The daisies all bloom in anticipation,
while the moon hides behind the mountains.
The bulb flickers,
and the day wakes up.
Shining,
Shining,
Shining.

Mouse versus Wolf

Laying, staring at the clouds, a pass time.
Thoughtless.
Effortless.
Free.
Nature surrounds me and wraps it's air around my vital organs.
Safe.
Though the occasional beast will wander into the boundaries and swoop down and snatch up an innocent mouse.
The mouse.
A father.
Dead.
A snack for this beast.
A circle.
Rotating constantly.
Changing yet remaining the same.
Though I live in this "nature", that does not make me a happy inhabitant, just a mindless drone to follow suit of my surrounding brethren. No.

Tattered. Torn

A torn page,
tattered but still retaining its original value.
Words strewn across it with smeared ink and bits of graphite.
Words of empty lies.
Words saying goodbye.