Saturday, October 31

#39 Flame Throwers

courtesy: Wordpress Blog Random_Michelle

We each hold our own chaos
in our palms everyday
the embers arise from
within ourselves
agitating recklessly
igniting swiftly then
either subsiding
or dangerously climbing
by the words we hold back
and the ones we do say…
We can be so careless with
this consecrated heat,
innately provided
that often shoots from the tongue
in an instant
purposeful in intent
to annihilate another being,
a perceived threat, dehumanized
with its hateful cynicism
and embellished contempt.
We live in an era
that places its pride
in those who
can the throw their
flames the furthest
shutting down
with faux effectiveness
those who we think
are deserving of it…
Its sparks continue to
flourish even though
its fire disappears
and is continually revived
by the way we shape
the thoughts that we
eventually use
to magnify and proliferate
our own darkest fears.
Your flames could be used
to light up the sky,
and provide genuine warmth
to those who lived
through the coldest of nights
but the power gained
from burning life
into cindered hope
is more popular, accepted
and though 
very often soon regretted
is the wide path where many
will voluntarily go
or choose to remain
since its temporary satisfaction
is easily obtained
by the many others who feed off
it just the same…
it is the path of the soulless
destined to disintegrate away
but for now, unfortunately
that’s the flame thrower’s way.

My Inspiration: Photo Prompt by Random_Michelle 

© KohylahPiper 2015

#37 The Old Man and Wadadli

courtesy: Wordpress Blog Random_Michelle

You are troubled old man.

I can tell,

from looking at those dark eyes

that must have seen multiple

generations born, grow

and then insolently pass you by.

To them,

you’re just an unworthy relic

a nuisance of old beliefs

but old man

did you know

when I look at you

I see the embodiment

of the wealth of my history?

You are careful not to speak

because you’ve realized

your words are bothersome

to those who refuse to draw

near to your knowledge

and try to understand

how they can learn from what

you’ve seen and experienced

in ages that to me…

seem so foreign.

Even your language has been shunned

by the culturally ignorant

who see it as uneducated, filthy

lower class…

You must be troubled by what

we’ve become.

Your words are a sacred version

of intelligent adaptability

and the birth of unity

among the segregated tongues

that led to possibilities

of uprising and rebellion.

Your dialect

is the closest to the original

that reveals  that this

newer version

I think I speak

only is filled with lack of


and its conformity to being

everything else

except what my own heritage


had formed me to be.

But even that is lost, you see.

Your accent is a sound

that is curious to my ears

it’s lofty lilts

makes my soul long for

what it will never fully know.

You are troubled old man,

I can feel the worrisome energy

of your dismay

since our progress is now

defined by our inaction

and the empty speeches we say.

Your hands have held the earth

where our new buildings now are built

but you built them long before they were

by believing one day we’d be able to do it.

But now becoming a self-sufficient people

seems to belong to just the dreamers…

Old man,

I know why you are troubled.

It’s because we are now slaves to the highest bidder.

My Inspiration: The generational gap & Photo Prompt by Random_Michelle 

© KohylahPiper 2015

Friday, October 30

#36 .Dragon.

courtesy: Wordpress Blog Random_Michelle

Your personality for centuries…
eons of time
have confused many
in between choosing a side.
Are you the terror unleashed
from the
thrones of the sky
are you the friend of the broken
using your wings
to protect the persons
for whom you have true affection?

You met me as a child
days not so long a go
you approached me softly
your mannerisms mild
and golden eyes aglow;
you were attentive to the
words I had to say
then patiently waited
till I felt brave enough
to climb onto your
scaly fortress,
and then we flew away.

I have never forgotten that night
when they appeared
with their bows, arrows
axes and spears
You hid me behind your rock
as they launched their attack
their leader meaning
to sacrifice my flesh to
win his crown back.
You never once cowered
under their blows,
then you opened your mouth
and let out a cry, deep and low
compelled lightning
to light up the skies
and out poured flames of anger
heat flushing my face
soon after, I saw …
only their ashes remained.

Years later you are by my side
helping me lead a rebellion
against the same tyrants
that had wished me
This time things are different,
the child’s heart now sees
with the eyes of a strong man
who has pieced himself together
through past defeats
have converted themselves
into acts of redemption

And you remain…
 forever in my background
keeping my paths lit
swooping in for the rescue
If per chance my journey runs amiss
How grateful I am to watch
you glide above my head;
always quiet, sincere
never leaving me alone
No one will ever know.
But your fiery breath has become
safest place that I’ve ever known.

My Inspiration: Photo Prompt by Random_Michelle 

© KohylahPiper 2015


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