The last of the trees
endorsed by a rubber stamp
No cares for the rain
dust and a worsening drought
Children playing politics
Category: dystopian
Scent
the scent of roses
walking towards a bus stop
steps upon the ice
dappled with coffee
moving with quiet kindness
sipping a mug soon
boxed in by the cars
She never feared ice before
intense violence
all the books she loved
all the kindness in the world
a cold scentless death
Energy
they lived in the dark
once there were lights, power lines
now there are candles
the meaning of energy
they lost the information
Before
Within us.
The people of that day said,
“It’s a Primordial urge that will not cease“.
We fled.
Who we were and what we knew was gone
as they round up the masses.
Whispers.
The wind whispers of what we once were
before the madness took hold.
Flames
the indigo sun
scorching the land
a dispossessed heart
no more cares to give
the flames turn hostile
entitled to own this land
burning books is easy
a destruction of souls
satisfies a dark hunger
fueling the Flames
everything ends
not until the Flames find them all
In the End
In the end, we sit on a hill looking towards the sea.
There are no waves, and the air has a strange taste.
The trees whisper a dying plea, yet we do not have the strength to go on.
With a manic urgency, you say, “Give me your innermost confession so my soul may remember.”
I embrace you and say, “I’ve never liked endings, and I feel too much. Yet I cannot think of another way to spend my last day”.
Who will save us now?
Snow moves like mountain ash,
yet we look up too late.
Who will save us now?
Fate takes the snow,
makes it fall differently,
and we are whole.
We continue to move.
There is only death and decay
to leave behind
since the great war of 2046.
All that we loved
We had everything; rain-cloudy days, green grass on the hills, and the passing seasons.
Our beautiful home. Slowly and then rapidly, we destroyed all that we loved.
Now the lucky few found a new home of dust, rust, and the absence of rain clouds, season, and love.
Very Short Story: Examination
Dressed in simple cotton robes, six gathered around the point of examination.
They hesitated. All were too afraid to touch such a foreign-looking living thing.
Braver than the others, one touched a branch a thumb. All followed, touching the last two trees.
Sea Glass & Sandstone
Wading in the sea glass and the sandstone,
look for the place where you used to stand,
thinking back to every time we came here.
An image of you returns.
I cannot remove that image from my mind;
you continue haunting
my life, my mind, and this place of our own.
Wading with only beautiful memories of you,
hearing the bombs fall,
my heart and my mind yearn to see you again.
C & K 