Poetry Monday |10|

The Board
Survival is not an option; fear is a fading commodity.

Jest at night with my Brothers,
Untried, convicted, tortured -- together.
Survival is our one true intent.

To the plank we go, one by one.
Lie back, take the sock, whatever it is,
Ingest the simplest vitriol, water.

Stand trial like the man I once was;
Tearing misconceptions from the walls.
Every one of my Brothers is here.
Not one of us shall survive, but all.

Poetry Monday |9| Imagine the Sheer Amount of Acid

Gliding High Below Me
My soul is separate; it leads the way. Transcend the bullshit.

Where mere mortals crawl, I've come to fly.
How these silvery sheets of foam chill my skin,
Yet I cannot find a way to purify.
Why can't I forget where I've been?

Onward I glide, holding pace with time;
Nearing a boundary that should ne'er be crossed.
To the edge where the dead men lie,
Yearning to find those Li(v)es that were lost.

Outside of the presence of all Mankind,
Underneath the realm of all we can find.