Without the dark there isn’t light
Contrast of the bright and hues
When fate returns to claim its dues
Projected thoughts into the eyes
Imagined so they must be lies
Might be there, but is out of sight
–Simon
Perception
Ignis
A golden spire
In a time most dire
And the land is wreathed in fire
And the sky rains ash
On the populated trash
And we choke on soiled air
But no one seems to care
Because the fight is here inside
And we could have stopped the tide
But now already set in motion
In the land and in the ocean
A species will retire everywhere
–Simon
Lux Aeterna
Beams alight from broken sky
Hallowed ether to the ground
A vacant plot of reclaimed land
A moment’s pause it doth demand
Breaking free from worlds on high
To pierce the gloom without a sound.
I hate winter.
–Simon
Ode to that Tiny Fleck of Debris That Won’t Dislodge from my Eyeglasses
Static cling or Van der Waals?
You grasp eternally
Upon the lens, you won’t let go
A force of air
I breathe upon
The tiny speck–a mighty foe
Calm turns into fury.
I’m huffing, puffing, wheezing
Tenacity, I think
I will not touch the lens, to smear
And so I blow
Until at last
Expectorate, my greatest fear
I wash now in the sink.
Misplaced
The hate
Prerequisites substantiate
The method to
What those feel now
Is out of place
And just passed down
By those who suffered
And now gone
Without a trace.
The blame
Misdirected without shame
Beliefs today
Are out of place
And those who knew
Feel no disgrace
Are now the victims
But remain
And are not few
Yet oft eschewed.