Sunday, December 21, 2014

"Star Crossed"

"Star Crossed"

It's dark outside
and we have no audience.
I suppose these are the moments ...

one presumably could afford to miss.
Nights when raindrops trickle
to serve well as visual distortion
now observe diminished portions.

Two singular.

The child's finger frantically tracing
the images in her brain
displayed beyond her window panes.
Streaks of energy
drawn from affinity untamed.
I barely know your name
but I wonder how you sound
reciting mine to request attention.
Contention so simply ignored
that no afterthought was stored.

 You burn bright to command my sight.

Knew nothing and expected less than.
We can ignore the streak
but the remnants will linger.
Maybe that child's finger
will document our impending collision.
Vision is a loaded concept, after all.

The fear of falling once so ever present
is now relegated to the essence
of what memory will not acknowledge.
Knowing that you're glowing
makes the fall much more enticing.
Your inviting hue as you blew past
fast enough for blinks to rob the anxious
I instead chose to experience in one breath.
Left to my own graces,
I'd likely pursue until
the faceless you offered countenance.
In my confidence, forever is less than adequate.

So we soar high
and we fall fast
and the light crawls.
We've let time pass
too much not to take full advantage.
I have perceived you too rare
not to plot one's path toward.

If only this weren't so hard....

We know what we want
and learn where to find it
but never plan for what sits behind it.
In my most powerful of influences,
I still doubt I'd have ever drawn
close to anything that resembles you

and for that I am fortunate.

A rare sight before these willing eyes.
A surprise I've grown familiar with.
A love warm enough to feel
lifetimes away before seeing it for real.
You appeal to my dreams
with the very mystique
that child observes in the streaks
that decorate the sky at night.

Color bounces then fades behind you.
If fortunate enough,
I'll be traced to find you
up high where the stars can't climb.
Our own atmosphere
and should the day come
when you would again cross my path,
I intend to draw you near.

Streaks of glow that crawl forever.
In our distance,
we could care less about stormy weather
when we fall together.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

"Dreams I Can't Remember"

"Dreams I Can't Remember"

They looked on and then scattered.
Glass shattered
as makeshift molotov invoked dispersion
alongside tear gas
and the flash of burning vehicles. 

I want off now
but I can't pinch myself hard enough
to divert my vision
from the endless river
filling the streets much faster
than that August afternoon nine years prior. 

So I sit here and observe
nerves pushed past the brink
whilst I sink into the background
silenced by the sound
seen in mouths that scream
inconceivable fear and anger.
Danger all but a conclusion forgone
for a multitude of those at home
with martyrdom and misconception
misconstrued amid the deception
that their last resilient purpose
is to hide that they are nervous
in honor of a service perceived
to achieve a goal that
they drive further from in unison. 

I just want to sleep one night
without the plight of this life
threatening to drag me under altogether.
All together,
they implore and ignore simultaneously
to satiate their sacrifice of sanity.
The charity of "may they rest in peace"
followed thereafter by anarchy in the streets. 

The plow and pillage
of a village responsible
for their own sown seeds
and the direction those roots will reach. 

This cannot be reality.
I frantically await the day
when the sun will impart rays
to free me from what I imagine
can only feasibly be a fabrication. 

Did I drown from the water
splashed across my face
like the blood that has traced
the very trenches I reside in?
Should I rive in fear
and shed tears with those
whose clothes are tattered
with loved ones murdered by the guns
they now refuse to relinquish? 

Time far from extinguished and I'm drifting.
Can't seam what seems
and can't see through this sea.
Tumultuous tide embracing me
as I float away helpless. 


For viewers who love to shake up
the reality and the outcome,
where their mouths are from
and why their speech shouldn't be free,
chosen strategically until upheaval
gives way to a wave of people
who we've seen routinely tarry
suddenly rally around a common hatred.
The chosen weapon against this faction
a well placed media distraction.
Some distortion in generous portions
to salve the numb with pop culture
while the battle lines are drawn. 

I myself used to fawn over such a sight. 

The trend of nightly sounds replaced
by the demonstrative pace
of footsteps overflowing with vigor.
The bitter taste of rage
torn from every page
as if there was a deadline
for one to capitalize on headlines
with some nerve to lash out.
Gone are the days
when one would look to hash out
a much more amicable solution
without the call for retribution. 

This revolution was never fantasized. 

These shoulders have grown weary
and I can barely stay up.
All that surrounds me is dreary
and I've no will to raise my head up
to reveal misty eyes
far too exhausted to cry.
Should I gaze upon anything else,
I would look up to the skies
amid this trouble and discomfort.
Not with words to say.
Just in cautious delay
waiting for God himself to say 

whether or not these are our days
or if I'm still sleeping........ 

.........I can't tell the difference anymore. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz