Poetry Compilation XI: For The Record

Poem 1: A Message To The Future

Good day to you, here from the future.
Stuck here in the present, I ponder:

What’s it like where you live?
Are there flying chariots,
perhaps men among the stars?

I hope the world is better…
wherever you are…
whenever you are.

I wonder…

You, who reads these words…
are you me?
Future me?
Wait, is my future self still me?
Or is this someone else entirely?

Regardless, know this:
I was alive.
I am alive.

Poem 2: Alexandria Burns

48 BC,
A sea-side city
incurs the wrath of an empire.

Julius Caesar,
a livid ruler
in pursuit of Pompey the Great.

Ships blocked his way,
so he set them aflame,
for no troops could stand in Rome’s way.

Egypt’s port of light,
a beacon of written history.

Thousands of stories
and ancient musings,
all contained in a vast library.

Boats drifting to port
saw flames jump ashore,
setting ablaze the old scrolls of yore.

A state set ablaze,
sea to fiery sea,
lights burning bright in multiple ways.

Philosophy lost,
designs forgotten.
Legacies gone, reduced to ashes.

Poem 3: Dear Mexico

Dear Mexico,

Remember me? You know, I see you’ve got problems with America, and so I’d like to help ya. You want Reconquista, as you would say, and I want the USA to stay far away from the war on European shores. What say we set up a deal, just between us, hush-hush?

You keep the US off my back, and I’ll help you reclaim your lands. With my submarines, I just know Britain will soon fall to its knees. I assure you, we of the Central Powers will make it plenty worth your while, and we hope you’ll consider our offer.

Sent with love,

P.S: Could you please get in touch with Japan for me? They’re not responding to my calls, but I believe we could be good friends, if we can just set aside our differences.

Poem 4: More Weight

“Giles Corey, you must make a plea.
Are you guilty, or not guilty?”

To which he responds, “more weight.”

“You must confess, Mister Corey.
Are you a heathen, as they say?”

To whom he says only “more weight.”

No conviction could be made,
for either way, he would not say.
His only response, “more weight.”

Others were left at the gallows to hang,
or perhaps were bound to the stake.
He alone was crushed by the weight,
convictions so stone-hard his mind wouldn’t break.

He knew he was dead either way,
his pleas would just fall deaf to them,
for it was just another solemn day in Salem.

Poem 5: true north strong and free

trees as far as the eye can see
bears hunt as salmon swim upstream
wolves gaze upon a herd of deer
a falcon soars through clear-blue skies
from sea to sea and frozen sea
in the true north strong and free

lumber stacked from fallen trees
oil buried deep beneath
pioneers take their trophies
burning coal breaks cloudy skies
man breaks land from sea to sea
in his true north strong and free

plants amidst a bustling city
horizons marked by glass and concrete
a bustling economy
planes screech through grey skies
filled by folks from foreign seas
to this true north strong and free

men replanting fallen trees
repairing bits of broken history
only now are we starting to see
brightening of darkened skies
clearing trash we left in the seas
in our true north strong and free