Tuesday, February 25, 2014


As some stand frozen in the frigid temperature
of men’s hearts what shall we do
for that grief given them who cannot move?

Power, power is a terrible thing
when it condemns them stuck
in the barren winds of nothingness starving the soul.

Winds that starve the pained and troubled,
we find it easier to look away, easier to save ourselves
alone as one by one our companions fall to the failings

of the opportunity seekers who will never know
that at the last second of life, when the death rattle fades,
all are completely equal.

Everything after is a show for them waiting impatiently
for the vacuum to suck them
into the palace of power over men stuck in sadness,

unwilling to go on,
to fight for a good life,
a kind life anymore.

All is empty of thought
hunger is accepting the truth of worthlessness.
Death’s sting is no worry for the disheartened,

for it is a welcome thing that brings the warmth of the earth
where finally all that is, is without pain or sadness
a lifetime felt for them who have been taken by that icy wind before.

Call me brother no more for I am frozen,
naked and waiting, simply waiting
to be equal to them who destroyed my heart.



  1. geezus brother...why you have to go scaring people writing THE END and then just disappearing on us...smiles...thats my way of saying, good to see you....

    a very cold end on this one...is there not more left than the wait?

  2. As the universe goes toward heat death, so does the human heart. Just faster.

  3. You and Tolstoy.
    ..It strikes me you're in good comany.

  4. This is how hopelessness feels. There is no escaping, there is no way out, how can you save yourself knowing what is happening to others. How can I sleep in a warm bed at night knowing that others are dying, starving, killing, abusing, controlling, destroying, planning my demise...

  5. Mark, you are writing some down stuff lately. Hope that you are doing okay, man.

  6. Mark, death=the great equalizer. Stay warm, my friend. xoxo

  7. I'm from Canada and that's pretty well the way I feel when out of booze and popping Aspirins to stay level.
    ...And then, exactly then-- the "social security" cheque comes in the mail. Huzza! :)


So Walking Man I was thinking...