Elijah Progression

I know I had come across true love once, and I know it because the feeling still burns in my bones. I met him at the age of 4, his name was Elijah. Never in a million years would I have thought that I would see him fade into colorless dust, brushing away to coat the earth and never be found, leaving his family like a shipwreck in a never-ending tide. Elijah, oh how much I could have done for you, how much I could have done to save you. But in my seven year old shoes, I stood paralyzed as menacing arms gripped mine, with a scolding voice that replayed over and over in my head. One day, we were going to stare deep into each-others eyes, telling ourselves it was where we wanted to be for the rest of our lives. We were going to run in our adult shoes, playing tag, until our legs didn't work anymore. That was our true fate, not this. Nothing would have burnt us to the ground. But now I live with a demon always sitting on my shoulder. He likes to laugh at me for what I've done, reminding me of the horrors over again, just as soon as I try to move on. He binds me with chains of silence, he binds me with a closed mind. He draws the man who burnt my clothes, the man who burnt your life. Elijah, I could have saved you.

Elijah... One day, I hope you will forgive me.

But do you remember our last day together, Elijah? The one where we walked home from school through fields of gold, spinning the earth beneath our feet? Do you remember the sun and how it melted the clouds beneath it, revealing the freckles on our faces? Our hands intertwined unconsciously, as our tiny hearts beat like racing drums. We ran until our laughter knocked us down, and stayed until the sky was coated with marmalade. If only we could have frozen the moment and never moved on. If only we could have both stayed in our seven year old bodies. If only I had never been given the opportunity to grow up alone.

I wish our hands stayed intertwined the whole way through. I wish we closed our eyes, and imagined the sun was melting us into the fields of gold. I wish my little legs didn't learn to escape. I wish it was me instead of you, so that you could have run home to your family, letting them know everything was okay.

And in this moment, I wish the fires that covered you could dry my tears.

I searched for you in the eyes of the sun, in the dancing wheat that feathered my eyes, in the butterfly wings that flapped my hair gently behind my ears. I searched for you in the cotton tails of the milk weeds, parting from their buds, to say hello as soon as they said goodbye, soon brushing through familiar cornstalks, to reveal your marble face. Oh Elijah, how I wait for the day your smile will bring the field back to life, but all I see are charcoal dusted, broken stalks, with a demon dancing on top of a mountain of ember lit ashes, acting as if nothing were wrong, as if this place were a sanctuary of good dreams, where kids like us could play all day and all night long and never be taken away.

The heat of Summer always reminded me of the comfort of my mother, but until now, it greets me like the trees of Winter. Elijah, I can't look at those milk weeds anymore, because they always say hello, and I never got to say good-bye.  

Peter Moore

Military boots clicking

beneath ticking dusted grounds.

Hit me once, hit me twice,

frayed ribs and crumbling skull.

Freedom, my friends,

is not free.

Malnourished with a blindfold,

deteriorating body to a chair,

the glass shifting under my feet

as I long for just one step.

Then finally the moment comes,

where I'm pushed to my knees

a gun pointed at my temple,

some rambling of foreign words.

The Britons are dead,

and now they come to me.

I hear the tick of the trigger,

the clap of the shot,

and it is certain that I am dead.

...But thoughts, still roaming like

ancient nomads.

It takes a year out of the 2.5

to uncover shielded eyes,

to free hands that

yearn to brush the soil

to which I was born.

Over a bowl of water and rice,

I tell them about the wife,

the one from South Africa,

who does not exist.

Hands connect the dots,

paving Metro stations on the wall.

The interviews with Pillow,

reoccurring like mathematical

shapes on tattered curtains,

just to pass the time.

Another cycle of the 365,

to snap suffocating chains,

releasing the demons

from their bonds, leaving

their whispers in my ear.

“Hang with these chains, Peter.

Seize the opportunity.”

Philosophy burns the demons,

because I wouldn't see...

No, not the blank, chalk slated stares,

not the dropped monster jaws.

After a 2.5, I'm exchanged.

I'm freed for the military leader

who would sit in chains,

eyes caressing a blindfold,

hands cuffed to the chair

that once melted my strength.

He may end up like

the Britons I once knew,

or maybe just like me.

With flayed bones,

and an aching skull,

yearning to be free.

Someday,

he may have a gun to his head,

with a clap that ends his life.

He may have evil demons,

that complete the deed.

Or maybe, just maybe

in a 2.5,

he'll end up

just like me.

Free.

Nattie (ORIGINAL SONG)

Lyrics to my new song, Nattie :)

Barefoot sandy beaches

thats where I reside

tasting salt beneath my tongue

rolling in the tides.

But that awful broad, oh Nattie,

with her locks all braided gold

flows with the wind beneath,

young eyes and frosted soul.

And on a Cape May shoreline

with a glass in her hand

she leaves him standing

she leaves her man.

She leaves him in the waves

never to be found,

Oh and that's how it is,

when Nattie's around.

She shoots down shots of whiskey

just to pass the time

dancing with the seagulls,

till that moon, it claims the night.

And in that cave of melody,

Nattie hides in seas of blue

so when you smell the drink

and start to think,

don't let her conquer you.

Cuz on a Cape May horizon,

she'll have a glass in her hand

she'll leave you standing,

she'll leave you foolish man.

She will leave you in the waves,

never to be found,

because that's how it is,

when good ole' Nattie is around.

Woke up at 8 AM with a vision to write this. Enjoy.

I know I had come across true love once, and I know it because the feeling still burns in my bones. I met him at the age of 4, his name was Elijah. Never in a million years would I have thought that I would see him fade into colorless dust, brushing away to coat the earth and never be found, leaving his family like a shipwreck in a never-ending tide. Elijah, oh how much I could have done for you, how much I could have done to save you. But in my seven year old shoes, I stood paralyzed as menacing arms gripped mine, with a scolding voice that replayed over and over in my head. One day, we were going to stare deep into each-others eyes, telling ourselves it was where we wanted to be for the rest of our lives. We were going to run in our adult shoes, playing tag, until our legs didn't work anymore. That was our true fate, not this. Nothing would have burnt us to the ground. But now I live with a demon always sitting on my shoulder. He likes to laugh at me for what I've done, reminding me of the horrors over again, just as soon as I try to move on. He binds me with chains of silence, he binds me with a closed mind. He draws the man who burnt my clothes, the man who burnt your life. Elijah, I could have saved you.

Elijah... One day, I hope you will forgive me.

But do you remember our last day together, Elijah? The one where we walked home from school through fields of gold, spinning the earth beneath our feet? Do you remember the sun and how it melted the clouds beneath it, revealing the freckles on our faces? Our hands intertwined unconsciously, as our tiny hearts beat like racing drums. We ran until our laughter knocked us down, and stayed until the sky was coated with marmalade. If only we could have frozen the moment and never moved on. If only we could have both stayed in our seven year old bodies. If only I had never been given the opportunity to grow up alone.

I wish our hands stayed intertwined the whole way through. I wish we closed our eyes, and imagined the sun was melting us into the fields of gold. I wish my little legs didn't learn to escape. I wish it was me instead of you, so that you could have run home to your family, letting them know everything was okay.

And in this moment, I wish the fires that covered you could dry my tears.