A brutally honest reflection forecasts my nearing end, but at four years and a hundred, I can't complain. My head is bald and mottled; my beard rivals the snow; wrinkled folds for eyelids obstruct my vision. All memories have long since abandoned my decaying mind, yet thoughts of it (for I never knew its name) still linger. Curious as to how one thing can take root in one’s mind, mushrooming until it consumes all other th...

Voldar knelt before the statue of the great warrior and wept. Around her were the ruins of the city she had once called home. Foes had swept over it weeks before. “How could you let this happen?” Voldar cried, “You swore to protect them.” But the statue remained silent stone. “My family, my friends, my lovers. They were all here. Now they are nothing.” Voldar rose and drew her blade. “There is nothing more for me here. No...

In Northwestern BrazilColumbia and PeruIs the Amazon rainforestI kid you not, it's trueMillions of kilometresOf trees that reach the skiesCountless rivers running through itYou won't believe your eyesIt's the largest tropical rainforestBigger than all the restHome to twenty percent of the world's bird speciesThe place is truly blessedYou must be super carefulWhere inside you wanderOr you'll find yourself coming face to fa...

Stalking the essences of a dream, I meander throughout the streets that have become rubble. It is quiet, unsettlingly so, but there is beauty in ruin. I dream of the little things. The way fiery sunlight glows against the sand-dusted buildings, the way soft moonlight shimmers on old street signs. It is hard to remember and easy to forget, but if I close my eyes, I can still taste the rice and cream that characterized my c...

Something simple Something pure Something peaceful It talks no more For all its history Written in blood Red roses are lovely The color of blood People adore them Why not? For roses are lovelies Drenched in blood People love people adore They give as a token Of love But love is not so simple Not always pure People have died for those they loved They gave them roses Drenched in blood

The little thing crawls on the forest floor. It wraps itself within the jungle, Cloaked by the creepers. The skin ripples over its ribs As breath sighs from its mouth. A cocoon of darkness envelopes it. Wrapping around its skinny wrists, ankles. Grabbing its throat. Squeezing. He can’t speak, But his glowing eyes punch through the darkness, Illuminating the black blobs and smudges of the clearing. Pearly light emanates fr...

There is great shame in this world,Clouding over the earth like a shadow.A cry for change, for a future,Such hope, twisted into a reason.A reason, to loot and plunder.As those angry at life decided,On a path of violence,Over the path of peace.A child was shot.Color, race, and religion,What does that mean?The police make mistakes too.Violence bred by violence.No one is going to be the better man.No one is willing to stop a...

Not a head does not turn towards the destruction, drawn by the brutal symphony of sound, held rapt by the morbid visual. Everyone sees some part of the meticulously planned yet seemingly barbaric disassembly, almost walking into one another as they crane their necks. Children, the most vocal of us about their fascination with destruction, yet to learn the shame of it, point and exclaim; their parents use them as an excuse...

You live life on a path A path of destructionDestruction leads to hurtYou thrive on hurting othersHurting others the way you hurtYou want others to sufferSuffer for your gainWhen someone helps you You inject toxicity in their livesThen run back to them whenAll else falls apartYou live life with a senseA sense of entitlementYou expect people in your lifeTo do what you want and to serveYour purposeYou act like their caring...

I am the Angel of Destruction. People don't like me, And with good reason, I mean, Who can blame them, When I take lives with the swipe of my hand? People have different names for me, Death, though they're wrong, Death just travels with me, My close companion, Though we're both just as bad as each other. People try to keep me at bay, With their smudge sticks, Keep the spirits away, Nothing stops destruction though, Disast...

The Civil War isn’t over yet. The Crusades begun a thousand years ago have not been won, and when I read about another drone, another soldier’s suicide, another stone thrown at a women’s head, another prison being built to rid the streets of anyone who might be one of them, or smoked a joint, or didn’t have his papers in his pocket, I look up at the sun and want to cry and not feel shame for what I haven’t done, and wish...

  If we weren’t here everything would flourish. The blazing sun would rise each day like now. The moon would do its rounds and what would perish would not know its name. New seeds somehow would grow and from decay bloom new flowers, new colors, new aromas and the new seeds would plant themselves with no one on their knees. The forests would take back the land, grow thick where cities were, the vines embracing towers, ivy...