I don’t play my mandolin everyday anymore,
let alone my guitar or tin whistles
I can’t let this die
I listened to 7 year old Japanese math rock
and want just a speck of that
An identity where I can sift right through
all this mediocre destruction all around
No one even has the gall to admit they’re killing
or the decency to even cover it up anymore
They videotape themselves dancing and
murdering kids for lebensraum
then turn around and say “no we’re not”

I’m tired of surface level house maintenance
followed by immobile phone scrolls
I’m looking for that lesson we’ll all learn
after finally going too far
I won’t play the victim or the hero no more
I did my part and now I’m too old
I need deeper art to escape samsara for good
and maybe that’s the best I can do comrades

I’m sick of details grown so scattered and thin
My whole past feels like entrails
smeared across vast desserts
There used to be rainforests here
but now it’s hard to find the pictures

Just when things almost get too competent and nice
they let decadence do its worse
out of fear that the improvements would make goods and services
too cheap not to be free
Socialism’s bad for business owners
so we lay off the workers and overcharge even more
Let the octogenarian billionaires buy up more water and air
to keep the fellas in the favelas gnashing and grim

Bunker complexes, spaceships, missiles coated in spent uranium;
these are all more important than starving children
Why do the poor keep having poor kids?
Still a conundrum
We gave them a chance to compete
some ephemeral time ago and they blew it
What can we do?
We tried to teach a man to fish…
Imagine Jesus Christ just giving folks fish and bread
for nothing in return?

Two ancient eagles often meet
free and high, celebration dancing our death spiral or mating dance.

Flying over this weeping willow forest lands we found
Our white willow tree bark healing properties own
salicylic acid relieving pains and inflammations.  

Our beautiful pendular branches, the weeping willow trees of us, symbols of fertility are; out willow trees grow best by side roads by body of water rivers lakes, or ponds. And us special eagles, mate by the sea.

And like us our willows of life attract scary snakes, but also birds bees butterflies, cocoons moths many diverse birds make a home in us. Our willow trees seem to hide a fertil sadness within.

In our roots, creatures find habitat restauration erosion control and perfect ******* growth of 6 to 8 inches length.

Our willow trees filter poisons grows quickly and live longer with a human touch like ours.

Our weeping willow tree established root systems decontaminating water and soil.

Raindrops drip down our leaves. My weeping is called pillow P**y willow tree.

When our weeping tree grows largest it casts a grave size shadow and a family member goes supernovae or so it's written.

Thank you my weeping willow tree, sweet poet mine for placing baby blankets under our weeping willow tree.

Your invitation uncovered accepted loved and cherished eternally.

To the one poet Sonnet 75 my
True love, this one honors the day my smile captured thine heart, my weeping willow my everything beloved.
~~~
Inspired by a tree of life planted in my honor once upon a time.
~~~

By: Mr And Mrs Andrews

i see a litle corner of red
and my mind ignites infinity
aided by the history of mind
mechanics oh so magnifiscent

the progress is progressive
the power is for sure
the mind of men is future
again again so intensive

i am ignorant of what has been
i see not the past as manifest
but i am here now thinking
the dead are the masters

An elephant lays dead between us
Who killed it? Who's to know,
With it lies our broken trust
In ****** puddles and shadow.

I know you killed the elephant.
I put it up on show.
Far from a Romeo,
Far from the love we could have known

Finally,
It comes to an end but not an end
After being the most intense relationship that I had in my own thoughts
Ups and downs like a tornado, now landing exactly where it should be.

It’s an end but not an end,
It exists but it isn’t awake,
It rests unless one of us wakes it up,
And none of us wants to wake it up!
Then, does it actually exist?
It’s dead, but is it?

I still remember
the night of the living dead
a tempestuous night
when we should’ve stayed inside
the weight of “beloved” stones up on our heads

I heard stories about
vengeful deceased
coming back to life
but if we’re full of hatred
why are we laying side by side?

I buried you
you buried me
but now we are just deteriorating
rotting flesh wandering around
when we should’ve rested in peace

I'm dead inside, a hollow vessel of desolation,
A soul consumed by the darkness of isolation,
The flicker of life extinguished, an empty shell,
Lost in the depths of my own personal hell.

Emotions once vibrant, now a distant memory,
Replaced by a numbness, a chilling apathy,
The colors of the world fade to shades of gray,
As I navigate this existence, day by day.

No longer do I feel the warmth of the sun,
Nor do I dance with joy, or laugh with anyone,
The echoes of laughter are but a distant sound,
As I wander through this life, without being found.

The smiles of others pass me by, unseen,
For I am locked in a prison, where hope has never been,
I wear a mask of normalcy, a facade for the world,
But inside, I am but a broken, fragmented swirl.

Every beat of my heart is heavy with despair,
As I long for someone to release me from this snare,
But the chains that bind me are of my own creation,
A self-imposed sentence, without liberation.

Yet in this darkness, a spark begins to ignite,
A flicker of hope, a glimmer of light,
For even in the depths of this eternal night,
A whisper of life stirs, ready to take flight.

I may be dead inside, but the ashes still hold fire,
A dormant spirit, waiting to be inspired,
I will rise from the ashes, like a phoenix in flight,
And reclaim my soul, from the depths of this night.

For even in the darkest depths, hope can arise,
And though I may be dead inside, I'll find a way to survive,
For I am more than the emptiness that dwells within,
I am a phoenix, reborn, ready to begin.