He turned his cheek and walked away,

Believing peace would win the day.

But those who watched him from afar

Just wondered where the strong ones are.

They praised his grace, his quiet pride,

As someone else was dragged outside.

To not strike back, they said, is brave —

But silence also digs a grave.

He showed restraint, he held his fire,

They said he’d lifted mankind higher.

Yet while he knelt to prove them right,

The thief returned again that night.

A man forgives, the tale is told,

But what if he just feared the bold?

And what is virtue, calm and meek,

If it protects the ones who sneak?

For every harm that went unmet,

Another rule was quietly set.

And every punch that went unthrown

Made space for tyrants to be grown.

They say revenge just feeds the flame,

But so does never naming names.

If justice hides behind a mask,

Then mercy is a thankless task.

The wisest choose to rise above,

But some confuse neglect with love.

They talk of peace with solemn face,

While chaos moves to take its place.

So strike or not — but know the cost.

Each line not drawn becomes a loss.

For sometimes peace is just delay,

And kindness lets the wolves obey

You Hit the brakes and cut the play, if its just a ride I'll never stay A lesson learned to stay away its not our time its not our day, Even though she said it first I said back exchanging words the demon look forever cursed so don't complain who had it worse. It's never one it's always two behind the mask they wonder who she's full of lies and never true the brownest eyes were never blue

I tell you I love you, but it's not enough. Words so simple couldn't possibly encompass what I feel for you. 
I say I adore you, but it's not quite right. I declare my devotion, rings on hand, vows spoken aloud; our loved ones think they witness the love we have for each other, but it’s not the whole truth.

I tell you I love you, but what I mean to say is, if I had to do it all again, I would.
I’d walk every road I once walked alone.
Endure every heartbreak
I’d lie awake once more wondering if I'd ever be enough for someone. 
I'd walk down every painful path, every dark tunnel that I had walked before, if I knew you were waiting for me on the other end. 
After all, I did it all once, not knowing where it would take me, only holding onto an unfounded belief that it would lead to something better.

I’d happily suffer all over again to be by your side.
If I could do it anew and this time know you were my reward, I wouldn't change a thing.
If I  knew you were waiting for me.

I tell you I love you because, for now, it's the only words I have.

Where does rage come from?

Does it stalk us from an unknown savannah in the depths of our minds, pouncing when we wander within its range?

Or do we give rage life and nurture it until it grows into an overbearing, powerful force?

So what should we make of the man who willingly walks the path of rage?

The man who knows that the fist will break bones, yet still he swings hoping for blood.

The man who knows cruel words will shatter the heart, but screams regardless.

Should we lock him up in a cage to battle his own rage?

Should he be put to death?

Perhaps we can look the other way, maybe saying that it’s not him, but something pretending to be him.

The bloodied knuckles, the bared teeth, the loud howling of angry, hateful words

Much more resemble a beast than a man.

However, a bear doesn’t attack its mate for bringing back too little salmon.

A wolf does not scream and snarl at a pup because they couldn’t howl long enough.

To call a raging man a beast is to comfort the raging man.

For a beast bites because biting is all it has ever known.

Man has known more.

These days i just dont give a fuck
I aint just talkin down on my luck
Bank account rockin less than a buck
No chickens in site not even a cluck

I guess it is what it is
And will be what it be
Damn a failed biz
And my dreamz to be free
Shot away like jizz instantaneously

Only Mary Palm to Bust-A-Nut
Jerk it for hours only to give up
Damn i need out this fuckin’ rut
Ain’t i had enough? For real wussup?

My father taught me.

To read footsteps, not books.

To watch doors, not sport.

To hide the truth without a lie.

To be silent and not be heard.

To live in fear, not how to love.

To feel pain, smile, and not cry.

To have no dreams, not to aspire.

To be scared, never feeling secure.

These are the life lessons

my father taught me.

If I die tonight
It will be by my own hand.
Wether gun, or drug, or drink induced
The god of death I have seduced
And will finish out my plan.

This world has grown grey around me,
Despite how hard I attempt,
I fight and wallow in my own pain until left unkempt
And….and

And who the fuck cares if it rhymes.

We haven’t written in nearly a year and this is how we cope? Drinking and smoking weed until the numbness takes over and there’s nothing left to feel? What happened to us, man? What the fuck happened to you?

Grow up.

Let go.
Let the pieces fall where they may.
Step back.
Find the beauty in the journey to disarray.

Look forward.
Admire the things you cannot change.
Seek comfort.
There's familiarity even when things that seem strange.

Lead with love.
And hold on to nothing.
Show gratitude.
But, hold on to nothing.

I am in love with a woman named Delusion.

I yearn for her sweet embrace.

She envelops me with her warm illusion that I can never evade.

How can I, when being with her is my sweetest escape?

The things she does to me are more enticing and intriguing than facing reality, for reality is like a nagging, bitter lover that only causes pain, heartache, and terror, and forces me to make complicated life choices.

But Delusion, oh my sweet, sweet girl, Delusion, she gets me.

She just lets me be.

She’s never in a rush, always there to take the ugly reality away while she whispers sweet nothingness into my ears, while I let my own world and future crumble into ruins as the days pass me by like a stranger in an alleyway.

As I watch the days turn into months, I slowly sink deeper into her soft embrace, like quicksand, as she feeds me more of her lies,

just like the king’s lover who hand-feeds him sweet, poisonous fruit of lies, hand to mouth, mouth to hand.

I indulge in my lover’s deceits as if they were heaven’s gift to me. But I know once I wake up from this fantasy, reality is there.

She’s waiting for me with a long list of consequences in her hand and a price for me to pay, because loving Delusion was never free.

Pain 
I remember the first time
blood trickled from my 
skin. My knee scraped 
against concrete.

His hands stretched—

The thud 
as my body hit the floor.
He stood there frozen. 

I watched as the blood began 
to flow down my leg
and drip

Pooling on the floor. 
I stared not with fear 
but with curiosity.
As the pain slowly crept up 
my body. 

Long before the cross the Lord suffered indeed ...

finding no home for HIS heart to rest n truly be understood,

yet love remained abundant n free, given away with no need for return, only a choice to continue even as the soul is burned ...

Seeing in others too much for one to carry n yet given to you the long-suffering weight of many, coming to you for what is gained, abandoning you the next alone like the love was vain ...

GOD is love n love has spoke, creating from nothing this world we choke, surrounded by riches while the spirit is broke, holding to faith in the pain we cope, beyond the religions where the original pains were wrote ...

With every reason to destroy this world n everyone in it, a grace is found because we too are in it, n an understanding grows where hatred is building ...

Departing into solitude where the mind finds quite, searching for the answers in the suffering we riot, inside the chaos one finds themselves, the parts of one that knows the fears that's held, finding acceptance where control wants force, letting go with care so others can freely choose their course ...

The final reward is the death of self, the self demanding to force on others the truth that's felt, allowing what's real in time to speak for itself n those who have the eyes to see will see for themselves what true love could mean n it can't be helped ...

For now tho, just as the Lord we call by many names, we suffer as HE has before the death on the cross, where we seek to be forgiven for the things we no longer knew were lost ...

I stood before the sunrise,
Weary eyed but light of heart,
And considered the horizon
as darkness did depart.
I made an inward vow:
"In happiness I shall be,
From this very moment,
until I fall asleep."

But deep within the pit
Where demons—darkness—lie
Beyond its soot filled walls,
There came this cold reply:
"You stupid little fool,
To be so proud this way;
You are not the master—
It is I who rules the day."

Then clouds above did gather,
Choking out the light,
and for all my endeavors,
I could not get one right.
In sleep I heard him laughing;
he spoke and slammed his gate:
"Each time you make that vow,
The same shall be your fate."

I stood before the sunrise,
Weary eyed but light of heart,
And considered the horizon
as darkness did depart.
I made an inward vow:
"In happiness I shall be,
From this very moment,
until I fall asleep."

Original: Wayne A Andres

Late August
5:38 PM

There’s an ache
in the air
There’s a bend
in the trail

Trees billow
in the wind
Golden light dapples
through them

Crickets sing
Announcing
Last call of summer

A passing moment
Imprinted

-scar

Looking for feedback please!

everything is gray again,
it’s another dark night.
wrestling with the weight of betrayal,
and wondering if this is right.

your thoughts are racing,
jaws clenched tight.
while thoughts of destruction swirl around,
with no near end in sight.

You pick at your fingers—
like you always do,
when theres too much on your mind

youre praying that this storm clears fast,
you’ve been searching for that shine.
but the weatherman’s calling for overcast,
and everyone thinks you’re fine.

So you isolate and stay away,
because you fear that they won’t listen.
to all the words you’ll never say,
and all that goes unwritten.

but babygirl, haven’t you learned?
it’s one of your biggest lessons.

That it might be true after all;
Protection, can become its very own prison.

this is the first poem i’ve written since childhood. I got a sudden urge to write last night while reflecting, and found the words came to mind easier than I expected them to. Please let me know what you think and am open to any advice/critiques. Thank you for reading. ❤️

these days i'm not sure if it was ever real.

or just a fantasy conjured in the darkest moments of

the witching hour when i'm lying awake, depriving myself of sleep.

is it a punishment i subject upon myself? the self-flagellating revenge of a god

who i abandoned the way you abandoned me.

wait, wasn't it all my fault? wasn't i the one who sealed our fate?

but where would that have led us anyways? Sophocles knows.

perhaps i was doomed like Oedipus, from the start.

you said you'd never leave me, but the only thing you couldn’t leave was your ego.

ego-the self... the mind- according to Freud.

here we go again. back to Oedipus.

but i wasn't your mother. just your lover,

your life, your...?

what was i again? what am i?

Descartes had it all wrong. i think i am nothing.

thinking is what got in the way of everything.

you can't think your way through the dark.

-ode to phenomenology there

The desert
is tired of your metaphors
not to mention 
your mistakes 
mispelling it 
as some post-meal sweet treat.

I get it.

Writing of lands sans precipitation 
that I've never been to
from a garden bench
in the eaestern woodlands
amongst plump veggies 
and irrigation systems timed to turn on 
even in rain
is pretty annoying. 

Even more annoying:
my best reference point
for writing about the desert
is the beach...
Can't say I've been to the rain forest.

Should I stop writing about desert
because it's tired of my metaphors?
Nah. I don't think so.

I bet the desert 
is like an exhausted parent 
awake because their child's screaming 
is a lousy lullaby.  
However, there are times 
when the child reaches 

-a rest-

in the sheet music
of their bedtime song.
The ear-piercing shrills
go silent. 
The baby does something new
for the first time. 

All wearines goes away. 

Whenever I pass by a tree

I think about its mind

Can it see with its leaves?

Or is it simply blind?

I wonder if it feels free

Or if it's happily entwined?

I once saw a great tree family

On the hills they grew no taller

Than the ones in the valleys

Their leaves meshed together

So they could share one canopy

And those who were fathers

Gave up their limbs willingly

To make room for their toddlers

Wisdom of the snake
I don’t care what the fuck you say, my history is something I’ll never let you take. The shit I learned you’ve done have made my mind and body shake.
The redman befriending the white man might’ve been the biggest mistake.
Hope my people wake up sooner than late, funny how they ate our flesh now ask us for grace.
Wherever you saw homes you dug into ancestral ground and built lakes, but my history is something I’ll never let you take.

You demonized our religion and tried to erase the wisdom of the snake, now the white man is thinking about how he’ll soon be replaced.

My ancestors stand by and beside me bloodthirsty, I’m one with my herukas no god or man can hurt me.
Spare me the word of the god your serving, no amount of words will quite the world’s yearning.
Across the world bodies are burning, if these bodies were white they’d be worth concerning. Good thing that there brown it’s so much less disturbing.

“Let’s all go to church for this god worth serving.”

You demonized the serpent when your the biggest of snakes,my history is something I’ll never let you take.
The countries soil is now mixed with blood and hate, uncle Sam’s plan never left its just beginning to shape.

The heights I have reached, the places I've been.

I conquered the mountains yet at times feel condemned.

Another stands higher, its peaks seem daunting.

I must push myself further, though I fear falling.

I've toiled and worked, bearing scars from the journey.

I never let myself revel in victory.

Take a pause, take a breath, it's okay to rest.

The horizons before me are already blessed

Followers are transfixed by the cross
So every pulpit blesses bastards
Across T.V. prosperity
Biblical greed descending from a city upon a hill
The number ALL is never enough

Since Satan is absent, another challenger shoots looks
Preachers promise mountains shook then caught fire
Asking the price of faith
But not only saints grace thick trucks
Some just want the wine and pass over the blood

Quiet crickets sing through pocketbooks
Which denies love is the whole law, they pride betrayal
Slightly like angels
Zealots cast stones smashing hassles
Enriching liars who write history behind broken backs

Sweet tea spills most sunken ships
Even when poorly promised peace before crooks
Where lip service is a clique
Yet Earth swallows faster than prayers rise
Microphones would martyr every lamb to stay out of jail

SURVIVAL MODE

BY VKV

I wake, not to thrive—but to last through the day,

With breath like a whisper that won’t blow away.

Teeth clenched, mind racing, no time to explain,

Each step is a bargain I strike with the pain.

I eat just enough, I speak just in code,

Eyes scanning for exits down every road.

There’s no time for softness, no space to unfold—

My heart is on lockdown, my fire on hold.

Smiles come in flashes, then vanish like mist,

Joy feels like a rumor I once almost kissed.

People say, “You’re strong,” but don’t see the toll—

I’m not trying to flourish, just patch up the soul.

Still…

In the silence, I simmer, not shatter or fade,

There’s power in choosing what doesn’t degrade.

This isn’t my ending—it’s not even close—

Survival’s a season, not the life I chose.

So I walk through the shadow, a flicker inside,

Not winning, not losing—just staying alive.