"He's Here"

“He’s here,” one of the government workers shouted in Cole’s ear.  He didn’t know which branch he was from, but he had the earpiece, black coat and tie, and tinted sunglasses typical of big-time government agents. Cole wondered if he could be CIA.

Cole nodded, and the agent turned and started walking briskly up the nearby hill away from the immense crowd.  The noise was deafening: more than five hundred thousand people were jabbering excitedly about what was about to happen. Unnoticed, Cole and the agent weaved their way through the clumps of people away towards the hill looming over the park where everyone was gathered. As the two walked briskly up the slope, the people became sparser until the two were removed from the crowd completely. Distracted as he was, Cole couldn’t help but marvel at the morning sun lighting up the glass skyscrapers in the distance.

As the two reached the summit, the agent stopped and motioned towards a silhouette under a tree a few yards away, looking away down the opposite side of the hill towards the end of the park and the empty streets and dirty back-alleys.

“Alright Marcus, you remember the speech?” He asked hurriedly as he jogged up and equipped a microphone onto the silhouette's collar. “I have another copy here in case you lost-“

“I remember; don’t worry,” Marcus sighed, turning around to face Cole. “Although it kills me to have to disappoint all these people. Did you see how many turned out? Must be hundreds of thousands!”

“Yes, around five hundred thousand,” Cole muttered. “Marcus, this isn’t a joke. I need to know for certain that you’ll-“

“I will, I will. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Marcus!” Cole growled, “This people think you’re the new messiah! Do you have any idea how critical this situation is?” He glared into Marcus’ eyes. “I’ve seen a crowd turn into a bloodthirsty mob in less than a second. These people are dangerous!”

Marcus turned around to look back towards the back-alleys. “What about you, Cole?” After a breath, he added slowly, “Don’t you think that there is something to be said about a government who holds so much fear of its own people?”

“These are radical times,” Cole answered in the usual urgent tone Marcus had come to expect from him. “The people are looking to new leaders, new policies…  I don’t know.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. “Everyone is agreed that times are bad, but the people need to put their faith back into the government, not you! These people are convinced you’re divine, for Christ sake! If they got their way, there would be total anarchy and you know that!”

For a few seconds both men were silent. Cole looked out towards the massive crowd, which had begun chanting Marcus’ name. Marcus was still looking away towards the back-alleys.

“You know what you have to do Marcus,” Cole said as he looked back towards him.

“Yeah,” Marcus replied. “I know.” And with that he turned and began walking slowly towards the edge of the hill.

The grass was soft and still wet with dew, and a light breeze blew against Marcus’ hair. As he stepped out from under the tree, the light from the morning sun lit up his face. A deafening cheer ran through the crowd, and Marcus let it vibrate through him for a moment. Cole glanced anxiously towards the government agent a few yards away, who was nervously fidgeting with his earpiece. And then, all fell silent. Cole looked up to see Marcus with his hand raised. He was about to speak.

He better remember that damn speech, Cole thought to himself. He wiped his forehead with the handkerchief again.

“My friends,” Marcus began. He paused, and glanced back at Cole. When their eyes met, Marcus couldn’t help but smile. “My friends,” he began again, turning back to the crowd. “A new age has begun!” 

It's Cold

Hurry! Hurry! December is here!
 ------------>
You can smell it from the soil and feel it in the air,
 O---------->
You can sense the frost coming down,
 O------->__
Bellowing down from the North;
>_________
Frost and snowflakes are tumbling forth,
O-O-O-O-->
Rolling down onto the ground even unto it's own demise.
OOooo____
Surprise!
O.O
And Merry-Fucking-Christmas.

Wilt

"Drive safe," he mumbles to her,
And watching her depart he already knows
That even as he acts like a stone
Inside he is melting.
And even as he pulls at her stem
He cannot bear to uproot her.

Will I ever realize
I am the one who now wrangles with
Love the way love once
Tortured me?

Me?

And so as a comet revolving 'round a star,
He sits down and mumbles softly to his guitar,
While his mind turns ever after upon her soft figure
Driving away in her car.

Ode to a Sea of Garbage

How beautifully ironic,
That the bottle thoughtlessly cast
Out into the sea
Is gently carried by the currents
Away towards the center,
Where all the plastics meet:
A sea of garbage,
Astounding all who see,
Becoming what no lone bottle
Could ever be.

The Heaving Earth - Conclusion

An earthquake is the result of a sudden surge of energy within the Earth’s crust that triggers seismic waves. Earthquakes are literally the direct result of an upset Earth. The cry from a hungry baby, the growl of a threatened dog, the strike of a cornered rattlesnake, or the quaking of the Earth; the cause throughout is distress. Like ants pouring out from an injured anthill, the earth sends its fury through fissures on its surface.

Natural earthquakes occur from faults, faults from the tensions and stress between two tectonic plates. Only recently have we discovered that the earth is moving in slow motion. The Earth’s tectonic plates travel an average of 8.25 inches per year. What the philosophers and religious figures of Lisbon did not realize was that the Earth moves, just like we do. “When you allow peace to flow around the world / then your hate will go and love will flow.” This is what Ravi Sathasivam tells us, and yet, despite what we may feel, does the earth not respond as it always has, calm in some moments, but furious after tensions have been held too long? We are but inhabitants on an Earth that heaves with us. Earthquake, power, respect it. It’s not the fast life we live, simply living beyond the existing, of equilibrium.

The Changing of the Seasons

Hiroishi Kurou slowly crept towards the prow of the ship and there forced his old body to bend into a sitting position, where he remained although the ship was not due to depart for some hours. The dark waves splashed playfully at the boat's sides, and the vessel bobbed softly, silhouetted against the bright moon. The chill of winter had finally arrived and was slowly creeping into Korou's skin, making him shiver. The last of the maple trees' leaves were falling into the water.

First Natsumi, then Tamito Fumio, then finally Haru:
All had vanished into darkness.
One by one, Korou had watched his companions fall away.
First, they took their happiness.
Next, they took their security.
Finally, they took his hope...
And nothing  Korou had done could prevent it.

How fate turns your life about you,
Throwing your world as waves upon rocks,
As stones falling away into darkness.
Like the changing of the seasons
Korou's friends had come and gone,
Leaving behind only
The pale husk
Of winter.

Vibrating Atoms

Vibrating atoms beneath my skin
Form the cities that I live in
Serve to the sermons I hear everyday
And scatter the birds who then fly away

These street sermons do not move me
My spirit dwells within canopy trees
Lush with dark green leaves
That echo my virtues of Pleasure and Passion
What's done is done; it's what we become that matters
The Sun reveals Life's tatters

Deep Space holds no secrets for me
My mind is locked; I cannot see anyway to overcome
Myself
Or who I am or what I've become
What's done is done
But who the hell would want a kingdom where we
Never see, never hear, never speak?
Let us grasp what we can, my friends! Be free
The Sunlight sears into me

Atoms vibrate deep within my skin
In my heart behind the Sin a desire for Peace is hidden
Vibrating atoms form a tree,
Whose roots give way to a trunk and then leaves
That echo my virtues of Pleasure and Passion
What's done is done
It's what we become that matters
It's what we become that matters

Vibrating atoms beneath my skin
Form the cities that I live in
Along with the forests free of them
Where seeds scatter away into the wind.

A Rose Pedal Drifts

A rose pedal drifts in the wind,
And if the trees could talk,
They would lament the loss of this beautiful gem.

But the trees don't speak,
And in the stillness only the small pedal moves,
Moonlight glinting off of its grooves.

I scour the ground where that perfect pedal shown,
And in the silence I alone
Scream my defiance.