Optimismo pt. 4 (the pack)

Preamble

To be frank; it must be stated that in my heart of hearts there is a lingering cynicism. One that I have suppressed and ignored like a fastidious child groaning for attention. My mind sees red like a bull anxious for freedom and I am condemned to feel the downtrodden reverberation of a scared, loathsome ego. Nevertheless I have put my distaste for hope aside and written as lightly as I could to express an optimism that I find so treacherously uncomfortable. Now with no further ado the Optimismo finale. 

Howl. 

Be heard and never whimper. 

Never stammer or break. 

You see the moon. 

She whispers to you through the brisk forrest winds. 

King of the earth. 

Howl loudly. 

Your subjects demand it. 

Your children deserve it. 

Your wife expects it. 

The pups born in summer are to inherit  the world.

 Be brave.

 Be strong. 

The pack relies on you.

You are a rock. 

Break the rules and never sink.

Optimismo pt. 3 (Hearts like islands)

Preamble

To be frank; it must be stated that in my heart of hearts there is a lingering cynicism. One that I have suppressed and ignored like a fastidious child groaning for attention. My mind sees red like a bull anxious for freedom and I am condemned to feel the downtrodden reverberation of a scared, loathsome ego. Nevertheless I have put my distaste for hope aside and written as lightly as I could to express an optimism that I find so treacherously uncomfortable.

I know where true romance springs. 

The geysers of simple words. 

Caring hearts racing toward each other. 

Ever close.

 Intersecting. 

  The stirs of spring mean freedom is fresh.  On our minds. In our bodies. Our souls. Growth, progress, and anxious expectations. Love seeps through our fingers like sand at the beach. Through our eyes like magma from a volcano. Warmth fills our heart. It is like fear, except we want it never to end.  

Eyes lock.

Our hearts entwined like the knots in our stomachs. 

A perfect match. 

Strike it. 

Light the fire. 

Pray it's eternal. 

 

Optimismo pt. 2 (Hunter's Moon)

Preamble

To be frank; it must be stated that in my heart of hearts there is a lingering cynicism. One that I have suppressed and ignored like a fastidious child groaning for attention. My mind sees red like a bull anxious for freedom and I am condemned to feel the downtrodden reverberation of a scared, loathsome ego. Nevertheless I have put my distaste for hope aside and written as lightly as I could to express an optimism that I find so treacherously uncomfortable.

Mother.

Graciously presiding over the earth.

She swayed the oceans. 

God's womb. 

Father's better half. 

Aunt. 

Shining with uncle's light. 

You raise the tides.

Tuck the earth in with a blanket of waves.

Inspire songs from nature musicians. 

Sister.

Keeping the lonely company. 

Keeping the darkness at bay. 

You know the night is young.

The stars your siblings remind you of this.

Lover.

sleep beside me. 

With me in my dreams. 

In the day I wish to see you. 

At night I cannot be apart. 

Woman

Moon

God

O 

Optimismo pt. 1 (Royal Squalor)

Preamble

To be frank; it must be stated that in my heart of hearts there is a lingering cynicism. One that I have suppressed and ignored like a fastidious child groaning for attention. My mind sees red like a bull anxious for freedom and I am condemned to feel the downtrodden reverberation of a scared, loathsome ego. Nevertheless I have put my distaste for hope aside and written as lightly as I could to express an optimism that I find so treacherously uncomfortable.

The songs of the joyous doves anticipate the great revival of the new chosen god. 

  Undeserving he strides to the alter. 

Strikes a chord and sings his praises. 

"My gracious servants... Welcome, my mind is filled with eager expression."

The king coerces his followers. 

He seeks a new crown. 

The crown of life. 

Once so newly earned he strives for more. 

Why not of course for divine providence he has gained a kingdom..  

So too has the earth a king. 

The wise steely smirk of arbitration.

A round for all. 

Applause and wine. 

Greatness is his legacy. 

Greatness his god given gift. 

Around it goes again. 

The songs of joyous doves anticipate the great revival of the new chosen god.

 

 

New Earth. (Forever Soiled)

Steering clear of the supple arbitration of waking hours. The cold morning eagerly clutches at the coming day. Sun ever dwelling and night so expectedly distant. 

I seek a new earth. 

New territory, terrain, tera firma. 

The wide eyed ego trope from misanthropic pundits embellish the senses.  Reaffirmed assertions of our still and verbose positions. 

We cannot sit and abide by singularities. 

Unsung laws of warring eras. 

Union by misallocation. 

Strength in disassociation. 

Peace and blurred vision. 

New earth, dislocated. 

Rotten, broken at conception. 

Near death, and still eager to live. 

Ever the tragic conclusion. 

Sly endeavor

The signal shines from the tired lighthouse. 

The songs of the furious tides sway with somber percussion.  

A sea of doubt. 

Anguish. (Perhaps unjustified)  

In hope of a paradise. 

A ghost on your arm. 

A dream. 

A hope and a fear

A paradox that festers.. 

Dreams of understanding. 

The dream to being understood. 

Will the waves break the silence? 

Will the ocean depths become it? 

 Wake on the sand. 

Amongst the grain of possibilities. 

Be there trillions.

Never know

Never try

Ever fearing truth.

Sons of god.

Dire, circumstantial. 

The ever present reminder of a life aloof.

Signs of danger never clearer. 

Smoke filled rooms now dissipated. 

The empty night remains.  

Tonight is tomorrow once again. 

And once again

 (like ever before) I am alone. 

The foggy morning rises above the holy city lights.

Halos of saintly desires parade atop the   scalps of sullied friars 

As if the night never occurred. 

Dire, inexplicable. 

The wrath of a starry night. 

The minuscule affairs of wretched beings.

The room is now clear as day. 

The steam has dispersed. 

I can breathe again.