The Fortress

It climbed to heights unknown to him
Surpassing the mountains in the sky
Placing the spires in the high atmosphere
He stopped, looked down, and asked why

But the bricks were in place, the mortar set
He paused again, emitting a heavy sigh
The Fortress was built right out of sight.
A cold and isolated place to die

To where the stars and shadows had met
But he could find no answer to “Why?”
Climbing down from aloft with a tear
Dust and sadness blinding his eye

With chinks in the walls, and pits in the floors
His sadness and losses he could not deny
Seeking a door that was lost in a corner
His own mysterious route told him a lie

Having descended from the lofty nightmare
Breathing thicker air than up high
Reaching the ground he lay in a heap
Staring at the now distant sky

Barbara Blackcinder

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My Fault

So sad, so sad, with no end in sight
There is an ending that’s not so bright
It comes with death but is not soon there
So sadly it remains, so hard to bear

It is always like that throughout my life
Outwardly pleasant, with inward strife
As normal as can be it might look
But inwardness is not to be mistook

I do the normal things like everyone
But my personal sorrows are never done
Pushed out of the way as not to present
Avoiding the rough spots, my soul is rent

I cannot speak without changes severe
It is not things I ever wanted to hear
Not like murder or such similar sins
But prejudice and hatred where nobody wins

I cry to myself, and shout to be heard
But in the end there is no real word
My voice is weak when needed the most
And so the suffering is done by its host

Is there no force to compete with my lack
My fears pile in a horrendous stack
To touch them is to cause a fall
An exposure from behind the wall

Barbara Blackcinder

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Dust In The Wind

I gave up on all sorts of invisible things
Those that have pots of gold are included
Also are those fairies that have dust on their wings
They all seem cute nonsense, I’ve concluded

I worship no god that threatens me or a child
There are no angels coming down to earth
Intentions failing to become human and wild
Swelling with demons without any mirth

Jack had his giant and Cinderella her godmother
As we grow we cast these aside these silly myths
Our aging makes us wonder why we ever did bother
Yet innocent they didn’t threaten us with scythes

It seems that religions always have rules that bind
twisting our thoughts to form ancient morals
A lack of thought will work on the weak human mind
Ancient guesses before holy chorales

Always searching for answers yet to be decided
We made up solutions along the way
With a little of nature randomly provided
Until when intelligence had its say

Yet only the gods that were written and chosen
Kept their beliefs through a constant repeat
Passed along by stories to keep our thoughts frozen
Modified and altered to keep them neat

Fairies pass along and fade with the gods of Thor
The tiniest and largest wisps of thought
Abandoned as silly or wrong, believed no more
But only those that the religions taught

By repetition and by fear they grew and stayed
Threats and redundancy were forcefully kept
Until the traditions and holiness were made
With hell as a guide while we silently wept

As we go along with the odd dictates of man
Who told us mostly what we wanted to hear
A silly deniable, enforceable plan
For a god who doesn’t exist for our tears.

Barbara Blackcinder

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I went to visit an old state the other day
Never expecting to extend my stay
But stayed until I thought my fascination quelled
And upon leaving the tears in my eyes swelled
Was it the mountains so severe and high
Staring at their faces and amazed at the sky
I have no ties to the people or the land
But their majestic view was tremendous and grand
My mind was rent with mountains in my mind
Nowhere I looked could another scene I find
I had only dreams of exploring them once more
And couldn’t leave out of the departure door.
And so I stayed leaving everything else behind
Emotional ties tore at me, tearfully blind
Yet I couldn’t turn from the mountainous hills
Where just a thought of them was full of thrills
Sights were all that were needed to excite
No useless boredom any longer in sight
There is always a pass to travel up and down
Where stagnant sadness is no longer around

Barbara Blackcinder

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Road Kill

I don’t feel like getting up once again
Just an effort that I’ve met before
I don’t have any more care to be sane
And I just don’t crave it anymore

I’m lying in front of a misguided car
It hit me while my head was down
I landed away from it, but not too far
Caught while staring down on the ground

I suppose I’m hurt but I don’t really know
But still I have to wrestle up the will
I’ll never know until I attempt to go
Continuing life, such a bitter pill

I get up with regrets but for some reason
I say I’m not hurt and lift an arm
Knowing you would want to know my condition
I rolled over to deny any harm.

But what harm can be done when you no longer care
Just in the way of some more beautiful sights
Wondering if anyone would notice you’re there
or stumble upon you while walking the nights

Barbara Blackcinder

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One of Many

Oh so sad, when you cannot be
All that you wish, you wish to see
You haven’t control of what you need
You are merely the path of a wanton seed
A start that had no necessary end
Life goes on, something which you must tend
A path unknown and not to be seen
A trail so often hopeless, sad and mean
But away from it you cannot turn
A life like no other, this shouldn’t burn
For lack of a clear path, you must always be tending
It must for others, be carried to its ending

Barbara Blackcinder

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This is acceptable by societal norms
These are the words by which a child forms
Don’t do that and don’t do this
But doesn’t it seem just a little amiss?

I understand a warning about fire
Or stepping in front of an auto tire
Some things just have to be heard
Or they won’t hear another word

But is it right to use the threat of death
to incur your religious lack of breadth?
Should you live in fear of a loving god
All those in favor give a subservient nod

Let’s play by the rules of the bronze age
Looking in desperation for a worthy sage
And even though he’s a hand me down
We’ll worship him, we’ll worship his ground

We’ll sing him praises as though existing
Cry with emotions, our eyes and minds misting
And though it was merely a pleasant thought
In fact there was nothing that he really wrought

And although he loves us all and threatens hell
We cringe in fear but we still pledge our all
But nothing ever comes from the divine hills
Yet eagerly we sop up and drink these evil swills

Barbara Blackcinder

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