Flag

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I’ve dusted the white flag

Raised it reluctantly above my head

I surrender

You win.

There is nothing more to say here

Nothing more to explain

I relish the thought of change

I welcome the transformation of its possibilities

But I have fought for as long as I could

I rest my case.

I’ve lost my voice

Lost my will to speak

To say what needs to be said

To rebut with my stance.

My resolve has expired

My lips feel weary

My tongue feels weak

My vocal chords are worn

Seemingly sprung a leak

So the words evaporate

Before I attempt to….

Let’s try something else

Take your ears from the floor

Retire of the murmurs of the passing feet

Listen to understand…

Not to respond

Not to formulate your best retaliation

Not for your chance to speak.

But m lungs seem clanged

Yet I fail to asphyxiate

A fate to easy

I am forced to remain

Reliving my mistakes

As you dare not to ever make me forget. 

Olsfred James 2014©

 

Catalyst

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Torn from life

Sweet sorrows of death

Caught in the undertow

Can’t seem to catch my breath

Signature move

A motive undressed

As the final seal is broken

The beast no longer rest

Unwrapped he becomes

Sad murmurs, his favorite song

While the world crumbles to his feet

His ascension has begun

No more a myth

We now live in its bliss

Trapped in fear

Of the eyes staring back from the abyss

The tale of his horror

Glees in its stare

The uncanny resemblance

Of his reflection is clear

What we all expected

Was never really there

We all have a demon inside us

Who should we really fear?

Olsfred James & Mikhail Simmons 2013©

 

Protagonist

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I am…

Not a fictional character

I was not created with ink and paper.

My conception was not from the mind

I was not envisioned or molded from another

I did not come to being from the mind of a sketch artist

I am much more.

I am...

Unique

The only of my kind

The last of my kind

Past the imagination of what is, what was and meant to be

The embodiment of it all

I am…

Without a coined phrase

Head of the Class, Magna Cum Laude

No literary analysis

But powers and abilities without comprehension

Defender and protector
To catch you when you fall

To save or condemn all

I am...

The acquisition of infliction

From years of affliction

Before Generation Z,

after Generation X,

born in Generation Y

and lost within Generation AO –

I Am Generation Me.

Olsfred James 2013©

 

Muse

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There is a place beyond home

Beyond the valleys

Beyond the pines

Beyond the rushing streams of rivers and seas

Beyond, the cloud filled skies.

There is a place that haunts my memories

Rips me from reality

With daydreams of where I should be

A simple place.

Yet as simple as it may be

There was perfection in its beauty

Exceeding expectations 

Belittling my wildest imagination

Curbing my enthusiasm

Yet teased my appetition

I reminisce

Of my many chances at repetition

Of my many offers

To be there

To stay there

Prospects I squandered callously

Unaware of this regret I’d faced eventually

Oh if only the hands of time

Should somehow permit

Allowing my then to become my now

I promise these choices would not recommit.

Or somehow I could defy the test of time

Go back to the beginning when this place was mine

Prove for my sake it doesn’t exist

And remain forever at this place I long to revisit

Yet as I lay here

These memories dare not cease

I think of that place

I long for its peace

This place my senses know to be true

This place I long for is right beside you.

Olsfred James 2013©

 

 

Retribution

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 Black stallion straddling

Complexion to match

He rode into the country

Only a gun and the clothes on his back

Eyes glaring as the town’s people stared

But a gaze from this stranger

Negated any contest they dared.

A question to the shoe maker

He signaled to the saloon

Head straight; eyes fixed

As he steadily rode on

Undertaker opens shop

Preparing for the coming graves

Preacher man clasps his bible

Begins to say his prayers

Reaching his destination

He leaves his horse untied

Made his way through the doors

Seemingly hurt, his limp implied.

The unknown figure enters

Casting a robust shadow of gloom

The bandsmen in turn stop playing

Sensing tension in the room

Without warning or reason a shot fires

Through the eye of a man at the poker table’s chair

Patrons scatter; Women screamed

As the stranger gives chase to another up the stair

Caught between the corridor

He is tossed through the window

Impaled by the shattered glass

And the wooden gateway below.

While the stranger exits

Straddling off into the sunset from whence he came

Impervious by his actions

Retribution was his name.

Olsfred James 2013©