Debt of Nature

I watched as they sat with their heads
Dropped to their chests,
waiting for what they knew would come
Non omnis moriar
they muttered to themselves in silence.
Anticipation of the unexpected
expectantly arrived like a
shell in a lonely trench of war.
Shrapnel embedded in their psyches
never to be forgotten again,
scars in the shape of sadness,
formed as they retreated into their cocoon of
self-inflicted death:
The steam still slithered out of
the grey guns
called REAL LIFE!
Confused faces of unknown relatives wept.
Tears hit the very ground beneath which
a plethora of corpses lay
taken by ropes and fumes and knives
of a life spent in a spastic agony.

It enveloped her youth like the
Earth eclipses the Moon
and slowly she turned into something
she never even knew existed.
Her parents were shocked to find
that she was born to die, like us all,
but hers would be untimely.
Death would soon pay his visit to
the rainbow-room on the second floor
of the very white-walled
sickly-clean smelling building.
Aut viam inveniam aut faciam
she said in the face of her
depressed and hopeless parents
who had become worse than tortured
patients at a mental asylum
in Serbia.
The lie was soon revealed as her
Soul left her body on a white cloud
lined with silver happiness and comfort.
The world wept and asked

“For all glory and honour shall be yours”
The line he so deeply wanted to be truth
“Straight to the field!”
Break down and build up
A man in the making for patriotism
Deeper and deeper into
The hell that was war.
Naked bones heaped in triangular piles
the beating of the sun on his dumb-drum face
devoured his senses gnawing at his sanity
until he needed to escape the horror
he thought he loved.
He needed Bravery to speak to him
at night while the shadows crept stealthily
among his base.
Faith whispered to him:
crede quod habes, et habes.
His soul was ignited by this epiphany
and all the light that emanated from
deep within made him detectable
to his enemy who he did not hate
A silent whisper,
all silence broken
with a mushroom forming his momentary cenotaph.

Innocently walking in the park,
birds singing their songs of chirp,
clouds hang like balloons in the sky
with invisible strings of sight
creating images to those who allow
their imagination to feed on the simple beauty.
Evil walked down between the trees
disguised as a man with a black hood
And an unfriendly face of scars from experience.
Target locked and closing in
like a cheetah who has spotted a
lonesome buck in the veld of this land.
The goon seduces sound into silence
creeps up behind the family of three.
Baby Bear told Mama Bear about the Big Bad Wolf
Papa bear felt the nose of the gun
sit cunningly in his concave vertebrae.
It sneezed without excusing itself
then turned towards the maternal attraction
and coughed up a small silver bullet
which landed in her heart of gold.
He slipped away instinctually,
like a dove flees a child’s taunts,
leaving behind the terrified little boy
who would turn out to become
the same force that took his parents to the Gates.
Acta est fabula.

Walk walk
On the narrow bridge of life
Suspended above the red-orange lava.
Look down if you are brave enough to face it
or else look ahead at what might knock you over
Only Fate knows how to end it all
With a crack of His whip he summons
His friend:
Wearing a dark cloak
coming to hold your hand and convince
your Soul to sleep.

Nos sunt natus mori.

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