Poetry Murals of Words

[Rhajaki]

In order to end, you need to begin.
To be a good man, you still have to sin.
Our decisions are not,
As they say--black and white.
There is a fine grey,
Between wrong and right.
Your choices aren't good cuz your parents approve.
Your life isn't based on friends' points of view.
Your life is led on by you, and just you.
And when you're alone feeling nothing but blue,
The power to stand lies only in you.

 

[Rhajaki]

Our strength is defined,
By how close we are tied,
We never stand down,
When our blood touches ground,
We were forged not from war,
With a shield; not a sword,
We march night and day,
Without rest till we gain,
The peace we all seek,
Or we die on our feet.

 

[Rhajaki]

I bought a cup,
From Wal-a-mart,
Brought it home,
And it fell apart,
That's what I get,
For something so cheep,
Which forces me back,
To buying each week.

 

[Rhajaki]

This poem is not mine. But it touches my heart so deeply that I can't help but share it with the world. I forgot who wrote it.

"Forgive me little bird,
I'll hear the end of your song in another world."

 

[Rhajaki]

We tried to bleed,
To prove that we,
Are mortal and real,
And our fates can be sealed.
Our hearts can be broke,
And our souls are like smoke.
They drift in the end,
Away on the wind.

 

[Rhajaki]

Slipping in,
Slipping out,
I cannot win,
"Please no!" I shout,
My mind is lost,
It's here and there,
It knows the cost,
It doesn't care,
And though I ask,
For help and beg,
"Give me a chance!"
I'm killed instead,
Death don't cure,
It leaves me stuck,
With mind unsure,
I'm got no luck,
The real is false,
The fake is true,
I cannot tell,
Apart the two.

 

[Rhajaki]

Changing slowly,
Always growing,
Time keeps dragging,
Nothing stops.
My head's up there,
Keeps gaining air,
Going nowhere,
I see cops.
Body's moving,
I'm not floating,
Something pulls me,
I'm in cuffs.

 

[Rhajaki]

Storms rose,
Fires fell,
As I watched,
The war from hell,
I fought there once,
I shed their blood,
My acts were just,
Or so I thought.

 

[Rhajaki]

This one is not a poem, but a piece of writing I really wanted to get out there.

We felt like gods as we manipulated our dreams. With our drugs we made them bleed with reality so we couldn't see the disparity between the what our minds had made and the real world. We didn't care. The false power was what we craved, this sense of freedom we could find nowhere else.

There's no need to think--and we couldn't if we tried! But as this power slips away, we feel gross, agitated--What's that!? What're you doing? Danger crawls and comes from unexpected places--BACK OFF!! Don't...Touch us!

Where's the needle? We need to escape! There's too much--GO AWAY! LEAVE US ALONE!

Found, something, Looks ready--SHUT UP! Injecting. wringing our fingers till it sets in.

Yes..........

 

[Rhajaki]

I walk through life a nonliving man.
The world surrounding seems just desert sand.
The blaring heat so unbearable,
With no oasis visible.