Poetry | glennsimmons

You Are a Quantum Packet

Build your empires,

Stand your Kings,

It all means nothing,

In the Quantum Packet of things.

This time human,

next time not

A cat, a wolf, the Brahman's lot.

This time Christian,

next time Jew,

The Prophet Muhammad might be the future for you.

This time you’re here

next time you’re not,

A preist, a knight, an astronaut.

This time Sol,

next time not,

Wolf 359,

Might be your next spot.

In Tribute To The Dead

Flames of war

lick at the door

the tendrils wafting high

the gods delight in heavens slight

As men break down and cry

The dead will rise

in thin disguise

the ramparts wearing well

spreading wide the devils bride

upon the gates of hell

On sunrise field

the ravens yield

to ghosts who would be men

the chains remain for all those slain

burned deep beyond their ken

Of ragged flags

and canons dragged

across the bloody field

the smoke would write the tales of men

hauled home upon their shields

Canada Day 2022 - Reasons to Live

In wine,

I find a reason to live,

Amongst the boring,

And the uninformed.

In ganja,

I see the light,

That the ignorant,

Seek to avoid.

In information,

I find enlightenment,

Despite the keepers,

Who would hide the truth.

In birth, freedom, and death

There is the elemental power,

Accrued to no-one,

But myself.

"Brother"

Brother,

As our father lay dying.

I did not see you.

You were not there.

You did not make the promise,

That would aid his passing,

With a little comfort.

You were not there.

As our mother succumbed,

to the mind numbing grief.

And gave up hope.

You were not there.

As we fought,

to open old wounds,

and see his sacrifice recognized.

You were not there.

As we worked,

to ease our mother’s guilt,

for the simple act of survival.

You were not there.

As we settled his affairs,

and invoked his testament.

You were not there.

As the clan gathered,

to pay their respects,

you were the drunkard,

who disgraced his memory,

And made us all wish,

That you were not there.

When her first born child died,

the one she loved the most,

the one that almost killed her,

by being born.

You were not there.

On the long descent,

as the dementia took her,

further and further,

from the woman we knew.

You were not there.

You do not know,

the mother you claim to love.

You love a child’s memory,

a thin shadow,

Of the kind and gentle woman,

that is not there.

She is brittle now,

angry, and afraid.

The storm ravages her,

memory turned in on itself.

Of a girl lost without her father.

She is not there.

On the day she dies,

the heavens will weep and rage,

as hammer strikes lighting across the sky,

And the roll of thunder calls,

Go wyytch to Valhalla,

and embrace your fallen heroes.

Brother,

You will not be there.

Wolf Moon Rising

The stags delight

in hunters fright

beneath a silver moon

ice cracks along a river’s edge

and kills the laughing loon

Wolf scents rabbit

starvations habit

howling at the moon

digs her way through icy snow

to seize a viking’s rune

Bored to death

the Queen strikes gold

dripped quick upon the stone

the rich still die beneath the sun

to the cackles of a crone

The wyytch finds wolf

with dying breath

and princes come a calling

red slashes white so bitter deep

to set the lambs a bawling

Swift comes the dawn

with brother sun

to steal the precious treasure

light spills gold upon the field

as he gives her his full measure

Brother’s keep

his soul will weep

the viking’s rune will answer

long dragon ships are beached ashore

blood drenches the lone dancer

The corpse will writhe

the soul divide

at the dragon’s ball

wyytch reaches deep beneath the keep

and drags it from the hall.

Humans Are Not Evolutions Finest Accomplishment

Do me the honour,

of not being so stupid

As to make me want to kill you.

Humans, for the most part,

Are the worst scum,

We kill without reason,

Stangers as likely to fall as the ones who have tortured us.

We all live in a bubble, of our own creation,

Oblivious to the havoc,

We create by our simple existence,

While wondering why other people hate us.

All of us deserve it,

none of us innocent,

the only innocent ones among us,

being the ones who depend on us for their elemental survival.

Children, Dogs, Cats, all the things we secretly love,

more than the adult humans we pretend are our family.

Blood, not thicker than water,

Not nearly as thick it turns out, as the saliva bestowed upon me,

With such reckless abandon by my beloved pet.

Once you grow up, your family, is nothing but an anchor,

Preventing you from accomplishing all the things,

you wished for your life,

Before you became so jaded as to not give a fuck anymore.

IIt's Over

Our lives are over,

slaughtered by the stupidity,

of a civilization,

built on lies, money, and greed.

Religions,

Lies,

Economics,

Lies,

Politics,

Lies.

Crisis,

almost always,

created by the heroes,

who step forward out of the dark,

with solutions, made to further their own interests.

Righteous in their indignation,

that such a thing could have happened,

They perpetuate a mythology,

In order to sway the masses to their support.

Only too happy to follow,

where the righteous lead,

from behind their high walls

built to keep the leaders, from the led.

A Constituition's fundamental flaws,

rarely prepare a country

for the inevitable rise,

of the psychologically troubled.

The fall of civilizations,

usually precipitated,

by the actions, or inactions,

of a charismatic psychiatric case.

IT’S YOUR STORY-Let me help you tell it...

GLENN SIMMONS-Visual Artist