T3 Title.png

SECTION THREE

DARKNESS

ALP Logo bar only.png

Cycle Paths

It starts out as an idea,
an ideal that it seems,
a passionate interest
produced out of dreams

What began as a hope
careens out of control,
no longer in charge,
as others
proxy your soul

An appetite for success
once innocent,
now gags in disgrace
even nightmares
can’t invent

Discord arrives
as glossy smiles
are shined,
while blueprints
for reversal
like variety
seem confined

With the less thinking
that’s done
more goals are achieved,
a saturation directed
towards clients received

The only defense
is to challenge
what’s brought
before you,
and if not,
another cycle
will move through

 

 

 

 

 

Solemn Infinity

Greed runs the world
the world defies change
change congests pockets
pockets endorse hope
hope promotes progress
progress meets tradition

Tradition divides values
values test compassion
compassion battles justice
justice juggles morality
morality conceals motive
motive evokes reaction

Reaction awakens prejudice
prejudice kindles discussion
discussion whispers revision
revision duels resistance
resistance scars harmony
harmony becomes compromise

Compromise ignites fury
fury drowns logic
logic seeks dialogue
dialogue forces humility
humility weakens ego
ego craves redemption

Redemption requires faith
faith creates conflict
conflict invites struggle
struggle bears evolution
evolution derails structure
structure stunts movement

Movement spurs invention
invention shapes opportunity
opportunity fuels achievement
achievement develops greed
Greed runs the world
the world defies...

 

 

 

 

 

Sand to the Sea

Grab it tight,
and hold it close,
now throw away
the remnants
before someone else
knows

A crash is coming,
you can see it build,
sell your sand
to the sea,
even though
it's overfilled

Grains of earth
splash soft
on the surface,
returning quick
to the coast
and origin of purpose

One handful lost
seems like
a harmless motion,
not realizing
this destroys
the fragile floor
of the ocean

Forecasting status
is drowned
by ambition,
ignoring warnings
with deaf ears
to past wisdom

A little off the top,
surely no one
will suffer,
until tsunamis rage
corrupting systems
without buffer

As abuse detonates
new fiery effects,
blazes burn doorways
where excess
was unchecked

Ashes like sand
are tossed back
to the fray,
hoping soon
for forgiveness,
and the start
of a new wave

 

 

 

 

 

Tornadough

Democracy is dying
from years of neglect,
as we’re the targets
where money
and politics
intersect

Revered halls
once roamed
by noble figures,
now house a lobby
full of snipers
with hair triggers

They coin slogans
and craft
careful sound bites,
as words
become daggers
in campaign fights

Combating each other
is not the true goal,
it’s saying what sells
to win the next poll

Senses are bombarded
by news bandits
and punch lines,
so pundits mask facts
to boost ratings
in primetime

Colliding panels
of viewpoints
then debate every topic,
hoping soapboxes
become plateaus
to ride trends
of skewed logic

As staff soldiers
conspire to strike low,
they destroy candidates
and create monsters
for show

Meanwhile,
we’re pawns
in a process
for two factions,
they push buttons
and pull strings
to draw favor
and reactions

There's protest
for changing
the way things
are done,
still we support
millionaires
for operations they run

We’re fools
thinking two colors
embody this nation,
because blue
and or red
can't reach
green or gold
elevations





 

Current Condition Change

Let the wind blow
and carry away
any distractions
spawn today

A gathering zephyr
from zenith to ground,
is a blistering reminder
from the smoothest sound

The constant chaos
of a directional gust,
transparently shades
any setting it must

Traveling in currents
not defying momentum,
now open to options
of a climate’s conception

It persuades the static
to respect it’s position,
convincing those waiting
to join this new mission

As the wind blows
through counties and fields,
few oppose the conditions
this phenomenon yields

 
 
 

 

Three Black Dresses

If we ever see
their three black dresses,
we'll know
part of this world
has collapsed

There's concern,
and a sobering fear,
that feels guilty
to imagine,
but all too possible
to ignore

Prayers spread
across oceans
for his boundless spirit,
may not prevent
the horror
from happening

This country
is not without tragedy-
there is remorse
in our soil,
and cynicism
in our hearts,
but this would
dull devotion
to advance still

Though buildings
have collapsed
in grand cities,
if he falls
hope may die with him,
leaving mourners
sifting through
senseless debris
of despair

We'd move on,
there'd be no choice,
he is not
the last flicker
of salvation,
just the latest
to brave
a surplus of rage

If we see them,
in their three black dresses,
who knows
what will follow
next

 

 

 

 

 

Obsolete Creeds

Beliefs from religion
are obsolete creeds,
as those saving souls
are actually
dignity thieves

Primitive precepts
cause less pleasure
than pain,
as senseless bylaws
endure to restrain

Customs are forced
through suppression,
by the costumed
and their pious aggression

Shaking stances instilled
from before
you could reject them,
is difficult
but necessary
for a spiritual connection

You must construct
what makes sense
from everything
you’ve seen,
not honoring traditions
you're not sure
what they mean

Internal fidelity
should develop
into something you prize,
not a code of indulgence
to secure
your demise

How can you pray
to sacred characters
that have killed,
supporting myths
that wild prophecies
were fulfilled

Science is real,
not fairy tales
and hearsay,
there wasn't
a week's worth
of creation
with still time
for an off day

Important answers
aren't easy-
you can't find them
in a book,
they live in your heart,
and your head,
but only if you look

The world today
changes every moment,
sin has evolved
and so should
atonement

No God
or theology
is right,
wrong,
or true,
it's just humanity
has moved forward
and will continue
on to

 

 

 

 

 

Those Who Murder God

Faith is complex
among various systems,
with every coalition
flares variance
and a contradiction
of visions

God is being murdered
by those thinking
they serve under blessing,
while condemning anyone
who entertains
second guessing

For cause,
for country,
or leverage to seize,
live and die
with numb agents
and what they believe

Interpretation of tales
many centuries aged,
are not grounds
for crusade
or ensuing clashes
engaged

This merciless sermon
promotes
malicious deeds,
while missions
stay veiled
as their enemy bleeds

Defiance is futile,
in acceptance
lay salvation,
not warfare vowed
with those vulnerable
in nations

Killers by decrees
of a star,
cross,
or moon,
shame the heritage
of the graves
in Babylonia's dune

As symbols shatter
to prove conventions,
scorn citizens
crave bounties
via vengeance
and elections

No credo is clean
of secrets and measures,
as fanatics brew storms
the rest of us
weather

As the procession
proceeds
where saviors are slain,
more regions are poisoned
from violence
in their names

 

 

 

 

Warning, Destruction, Collateral, Aftermath

Fierce words
of these warnings
seen before
without tremor,
return in a fury
both sides
will remember

The execution of strategy
played on torn fields,
ensures a defense
will have a test
of its shields

Civil growth
is washed away
like it's beach sand,
as the earth’s salt
is peppered
by those following
game plans

The waltz of pressure
and relentless grips,
greet those affected
like a wrecking ball
to the lips

What was standing
lay asleep
now in dust,
a deceased structure
from one sonic thrust

The parallel results
from a promise
exploded,
layer each road
in wreckage
and motive

Pinpoints of impact
dissolve into sorrow,
as the day
eats the night
dreading what comes
tomorrow

Plagued landscapes
inhabit
a threat now fulfilled,
leaving no option
for exit,
just the task to rebuild


 

 

 

 

Nina and the Night Air

The skyline,
Nina,
and the night air-
can’t explain the feeling,
and don’t really care

Union with the evening
as the cold
comforts me,
she sings
with a suffering,
but so beautifully

Tall highway lights
curve in sync tonight,
guiding all motion
with no destination
in sight

As the bellows
of ballads
meet the swirling breeze,
it tames wild winds
with the slightest
of ease

Spare moments
between syllables
resonate loud,
as music splits routines
of the night’s
growing shroud

While audio
washes a freeway
with flair,
all was just fine
with Nina
and the night air

 

 

 

 

 

Cemetery of Ideas

Ominous crying trees
act as borders,
in a crowded
cemetery of ideas

Unfinished headstones
litter crooked rows
of abrupt notions;
“ a piece about the
way things seem to…”

Muses mourn
for buried potential,
scrutinizing maneuvers
that could've saved
the tenants
of this place

With regret
they socialize
through the night,
comparing form
while their capacity
pales with time

As ghosts conspire
to find freedom
from this limbo,
new winds of verse
blow the tears
off of branches

 

 

 

 

 

Gallery of Nonsense

Dare we dream
or do dreams
dare we,
leading tours
through a gallery
of messages to see

Constant nonsense
makes no sense
but at the moment
seems sound,
while a suspension
of perception
ushers sanity around

Puzzles of illusions
conjured in the night,
celebrate us at a party
with company
we didn’t invite

Theories run wild
to explain
this experience,
from subconscious attractions,
to a sifting
of interference

As closed eyelids
promote mystery
that's dormant within,
the mind clears a runway
where adventures begin