Posted in ki.Poetry

by kyjin

what gravity tears my chest open
to reveal a lover’s beating drum?
for i swim wounded and bleeding
in the seas of eternity
to find one i have sworn to love
in millennia past when i first
saw the design of my soul
reflected in your eyes
and from our union
my purpose was born.

the cruel contortionist
fearful of love’s divinity
weaves our tragic parting
soon you were stolen
from my woeful sight
leaving me in darkness.

I followed you
to the great abyss
returning each time
with a borrowed cloak
and you in another;
displaced in time
and separated by distance
as we wander lifetimes over,
seeking what we were
cursed never to find.

however our destiny was written
with the embers of the stars
by the one delicate hand
that draws our fate intertwining,
and even should time forbid
this cosmic embrace
our divine affinity
defies all impossibility

i have been asleep
under the spell of the grand illusionist
only now,
drowning in the sea of my own blood,
do i wake gasping for that holy breath
to save this cloak from ruin
because i have found you

nature inspired by our resolve
rebels against the tyranny of law:
our distance bridged by sympathetic space
our collision fixed by merciful time

here we are, two bodies, one soul
peering through our effervescent cloak
to see the reflection of our same design
our contrast renders fascination that
ignites the spark of a tender passion

what is a soul mate
but the mating of one soul?
strip away our flesh
and drain our blood
burn the veiling cloak
with our celestial fire
let our essence shine
through to all worlds
and the mending of our soul
be the destined reunion


The Carrions
by Kyjin

rally the carrions to the labors of men preserve
for as in their gnawing rots the roots of rife
so too the piling wastes decay into the earth
thus creating the cycle that we know as life

thieves of time that rob men blindly of their youth
from the darkness and through ages until darkness
leeches like wool siphon through the blood of fools
feeding on their breath until they lie breathless

men share no less the floundering fate of stifled fish
that which suffering is muzzled by the gelatinous air
in stillness the restless renders the body fleshless
but its seeds of contagion with time blooms in splendor

the swoons of pestilence sway to nature’s resolve
when one’s intoxication venomous to another’s survival
her wrath is justly swift and sweeps from above
as a disarming plague inoculating the frenzied rivals

then come the invisible army of feeders
to grind away the remnants of existence
a pulp that again into the cycle enters


The Veil0

Posted in ki.Poetry

The Veil
by Kyjin

i look at the sky and wonder why
the sun never refuses to rise
its rays dancing across the horizon
slowly fading my memory of its motion

then bows down to greet its partner
stepping closer their bodies gather
in the ridge of light and darkness
gently swaying to twilight’s caresses

the heavens journey with arduous resolve
oblivious to the futility of its revolve,
fueled by the fiery passions of eternity,
seething from immolation its celestial body

yet eschews the pain of flesh-born affliction
because it is immune to the human condition
no greed, malice, envy, or pride to speak of
only the sublime nature of incorruptible love

as the blood that surges through our veins
transfuses life without claim of selfish gains
or the spirit that awakens our inanimate shell
to rise against the assault of the sleepless veil

i peer at the stars and ponder afar
aeons from one breath of each pulsar
how time drapes our existence in finite
obscuring our senses with limited sight


Invisible Footprints
by Kyjin

here lies peacefully a man
resting deeply in earth’s hands
leaving life with the same anonymity
as when before he entered its calamity

his face is eroded with years and smiles
yet, he is faceless
he was a son and perhaps a brother
still, he remains nameless

who are you unknown stranger
seeking the fringe to linger?
who are you mystery man
lurking in the shadowy lands?

you speak, but your words fall short of sound
you cry, but your tears never quite strike the ground
you love, yet its depths are but hollowed-earth
you die, the world is unflinched as when you birthed

what if i had your life and when i should die
would i have lived or would it all be a lie?

tell me that love unrequited survives undiminished
and that loneliness is the true path of an aged sage

let the will of the stoic numb my blistered heart
even if it should fail from unbearable dis-ease
that i would continue to walk in the land of men
with invisible footprints weathered by the sands


Love is Life is Poetry
by Kyjin

the pulse of my chest pounds
with the melody of your bosom
and our bodies flow like
rhythms of poetry,

between the silken darkness
our frictionless breath warms
the brine expelling from
our body’s interlace

in this moment
we are wholly captured
by the original womb,
our contours blur and
we become

a symbiosis
one breath,
one soul

love is an intercourse
buried in the exchange
of our chemistry,
our blood,
and our sweat

no taste of sweet liquor or
scent of earth’s blossoms
can measure at length
to one love’s sacrifice

for only in death is life renewed
and its gift spins nature’s resolve
as the law of life ordered
in the cosmos

to be
born and
to die,

as rupturing stars,
with illuminating grace

for this reason
a lover declares,
“i would die for you,”
and thrusts into descent
toward love’s embrace
for love he dies,
in love he is reborn

and within this fleeting repose,
celestial bodies at once
hold their breath;
the universal eye
blinks to capture
an epic still frame
of evanescence

then, in rapid exhalation,
we emerge from ecstasy;
heart palpitating,
body rinsed with fluid and
absorbed in the intensity
of our collision

rampant flames unclothe our flesh
with a feverish caress,
and we bathe in the tenderness
of its arresting comfort

in this furnace of lust
our desires burn, its ashes
blanket our unassuming form and
we, as crashes of lightning,
split the naked earth

rapt in a capricious trance,
all reason alludes and reality is
the frolicking space of fantasy;
our experience, purely visceral

life and death, only distance
time and space, merely concepts

and love,

love is life is poetry


The Answers Are in the Back of the Book
by Kyjin

every book originates from an idea conceived
by a mastermind erupting with inspiration
who machinates tales of friendship and discovery
pioneers of worlds beyond imagining
romance, chivalry, and lovers unrequited
windows to the horrors of flesh and living

a binding reveals little of its contents
it is the whim of the natural architect
a curtain that covers its naked pages
a vital skin of mortal things it protects

enveloping bodies of different shapes and sizes
that exude a superficial sense of personality
vying for the attention of haphazardly darting eyes
and declaring uniqueness by flaunting its identity

ideas seeded in the eager womb published
life breathed and the immaterial takes form
populating neatly crowded uniform shelves
displacing the dusty aging tombs deformed

books organized and displayed pristine
their reality an illusion of perfection
those blemished or unfit to be seen
stowed and disposed for their conditions

never have their pages turned or chanced to crease
nor its body held with devout passion and sincerity
none will be of acquaintance to its preface
and the story within remain lost to indignity

victories in conquests and mortal defeats
in a complex weave of tragedy and triumphs
stitched by the threads of wants and needs
are fibers that bind the pages of these volumes

twists of fate and misshapen lives
the science of fiction
in art and in war
looking at life through the eyes
of mass deception
betrayed and stalwart

is this a fantasy or
a reality contrived?

a dream everlasting or
our destinies arrived?

of whether we exist or
when we shall expire?

out of first breath or
cast into the fires?

blood-painted walls in caves of the ancients
lost tablets and feathered scroll passages
amber remains rendered in primeval stasis
weathered stone overturns long lost ages

artifacts of time chronicle the journeys of men
as pages of a book turning to the steady breeze
life affords a transient license to experience
cover to cover as one comes another takes leave

chapters written with the blood of our veins
as a pen that flows from one to the next
and the ink seeps deep through the pages
making its mark in sanguinary text

inflamed by the friction of shuffling activity
burned in ignorance for its deviating rites
uprising of ideas in the ashen blaze of civility
as remnants of time take oblivion’s flight

obscurities hide in the edge of popular lies
and in time we fall to its blade of affliction
that cuts from inside until a part of us dies
as tomes hollowed from pestilent consumption

even sands their memories do echo
in each grain a score of life symphonic
weathered by time’s torrential tows
a singularity of a state metamorphic

and men their tales do tell
while one generation rises
another is in descent
one shall advance
and another recede
as waves that grind
the slumbering shores

it is that as one life gives
another one in turn receives

inscribing in the stars
an account of its journey
while waiting to be reborn
in the ocean of eternity

every story that begins inevitably must end
as fleeting pages turn and motions of day ceases
when the binds of our coils become unfettered
then pressure surrenders and finally releases

existence is a volume of blank pages
recording knowledge of the experience
conceived, written, and published
between the covers of flesh and substance
wherein its characters are of our creation
events unwind as of our consequence
and the author has written himself in us

this book of life is checked out most often
and returned just as frequent
because in it the answers will lend
most of which are at the end


The Craftsman
by Kyjin

a craftsman with tools in hand
skillfully design mix blood and sweat
ready to mend what’s broke and bent
renews life’s lease with a sturdy mallet

when something in me is fractioned
a division of its original intention
having no recourse or much of remorse
wounds drained and shriveled to the core

like shards of glass burrowing
in this heart of mine befallen
twisting motivate its bleeding
removed fibrous muscle ripping



The Journey
by Kyjin

soul weary and flesh withered

how far have i traveled
down this dirt and gravel?
where do my footsteps lead
as they fade with resolute speed?

in the leafy crackling rusty trails
in the dusty wind-whipped valleys
in the grainy chasms of the arctic tundra
in the gritty spiraling sinking sands

of the deeply, blue, green, and darkened sea



Ordained Mercilessness
by Kyjin

I have been cursed with the power of sight
I dare not open my eyes to a world filled with fright
My innocence lost in the stream of time
Evil has shown to me its bloody crime




Posted in ki.Poetry

by Kyjin

Happiness is a creature that burns within me
Claws full of fury and eyes guided toward its goal
Rattling the prison that ensnares contentment
Happiness is the bane of my existence



The Porcelain Youth
by Kyjin

We are in a state of volatility
The earth forcefully ruptures from beneath
and the sky hangs flimsily on a glimmer of hope
The sun rises with hesitation and
falls quickly against a blanket of darkness

Within the high towers
I hear the murmuring of their cowardice
and within its ivory walls
the whisperings of their treachery

A corrosive poison
that chars black, the heart of man

On the ground
I hear the dirge of a soldier
pleading for mercy
in a field lay scattered
his slain comrades


Don’t take flight on the eagle’s wings
and prey on the unsuspecting youth
Steer him back to the arms of safety
and let him return to the refuge of his nest

Don’t send us to the hunting grounds
to be hung as headless trophies
by poachers and murderers

Don’t let the taxidermists
strip us of our humanity
and expose us to adult pastimes
that our innocence will unknowingly embrace

Don’t rape us of our freedom
that in silence we will resentfully consent
You may muffle our cries of agony
and while our bodies may submit
our minds will remain faithful to the pain

Stand on your podium
indulge our ears
with the nectar of your words
Then return
to the comfort of your home,
family, wife, and kids

But I will remain here, miles from home,
away from love, away from life
A ghost in a land of strangers
resting against the blood-soaked soil
waking to cries of shattered men, women, and children

I am no hero, I am no enemy
I am the porcelain youth
My skin,
tender, easily cut
My life,
fragile, easily broken

Yet I am loved,
and demonized

My mission is to slay an enemy
whom I do not fully understand
And still I see my weapon stained
with the blood of the blameless

I seek to justify my sins
and wash from my hands
the evidence of my deeds;
but my mind remains
diluted in this crimson river,
plaguing my waking life
and haunting my very existence

You ask me to be brave
and send me off with admiration
You ask me to be strong
and gave me means to protect myself

But you did not ask me
if I was willing to kill,
because he does not share an ideal
that you hold to be righteous
if I was willing to lay waste,
a land and its people,
because they do not believe
what you hold to be self-evident

The truth is,
I will not fight under a fever of destruction
and plunge our world into ruination

Perhaps it is best that I do not raise arms
at all,
against my fellow man,
who are also born of flesh and blood
who will recoil when he is shot
and bleed when his skin is broken

I am no hero, he is not my enemy
We are the porcelain youth,
Our skin,
Tender and scarred
Our lives,
Fragile and broken

Is glory worth
The fate of my brothers and sisters
sealed in a body bag?
Or worse…
Blown unrecognizably apart
only to be carried home by the winds?

How many countless lives
must prematurely sink into the dirt?
and how many more
will be shamelessly smothered in shallow graves
As we dig for this fool’s gold?


And I will say to this woeful soldier
fear not for the porcelain youth
your laments are carried by the winds of change
Our fathers know not what they do
in the games that they play with our lives

If today,
in fear,
we live, fight, and kill
in fear,
we will die

These fears are only the puppetry of shadows
casting a darker shade of ourselves
wrestling with our own inner demons
and projecting its image into our reality

Fear not lamenting youth
for you are not alone
in your depths of loneliness and despair;
in the prison of your conscience
and the slaughter-house of innocence

I will stand with you through the darkness of our times
when you find yourself fragmented
I will gather your pieces and rebuild your hope

Together we will carry this beacon of light
and shine its truth of love and peace
into man’s shadowy heart

For he cannot be changed
with blunts or bullets,
beaten or deranged
as this can only scar his flesh
while his conviction grows ever stronger

Speak to him in his heart
and in time he will see for himself
the error of his ways
Only then will you have turned him as the enemy,
and will have also made him
a friend