Thursday, November 20, 2008

The Problem of Evil

It makes me wanna kill,
wanna cry:
every injustice done
to those I've adored.
Can't feel I'm a victim
when my mere lack
is from another's pain,
but tears fall nonetheless,
lamenting might-have beens,
nursing never-weres,
asking why I pick so wrong,
but wondering:
whence the abuse?
beauties bruised, broken;
who has such violent heart?
to offend, injure, invade,
attack, inflict them?
Surely such are damaged, too,
so I can't retribute
and vengeance is empty
in the chain of events,
but I still think to me:
if only I could pay it back,
every offense on every innocent;
decimate doers of all evil.
If I had power,
would do it for highest reasons
then become one of them myself,
tyrannical and terrible.
If every injustice was
repaid just one-fold,
there'd be no one left.

Dead-end thoughts

Wond'ring about someone unusual,
anyone,
I wonder:
am I as outside as I think?
Sitting here, unable,
I think what an adventure each face would be;
you could walk for miles here
around and around the lake.
I consider calling someone,
but fail to muster the interest.
Seems as though waiting
would give me some return,
but I know there's nothing
here in public,
and turn my back
on sparkling setting sun;
but there's less a difference
than I like to think
between me and everyone.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Lowered Expectations

Don't expect much to happen here during November. I'm participating in NaNoWriMo. And it will be glorious.