Foolage.

All trees provide some value to the world.
Regardless of how one may feel about a tree.
The argument can be made for or against.
I have those invasive kind on my land, a lot.
Long ago brought by good intentions hand.
They are hard to kill, but rot from within.
Dropping thousands of seeds to spread more.
Stiff winds will split their hollow core, easy.
Just still heavy enough to cause damage.
They look wicked and tall, begging to stay.
My chain I run though them one by one.
Offspring arrive before their parent cremation.
So with my blade I strike down to the root.
The temporary shelter not worth the cost.
Efforts never ending with my blade and chain.
With neighbors too busy to notice their own,
the air the clean is choking out their land.


© Jeph Rants

Stones of hearth

Smoldering embers sit low and hide beneath the ash of what was.
Winds blow the tops off them, they shows red, and cinders of blues.
I can melt steal and wipe the forest from the face of scorched earth.
Along comes a stranger and breathes life into my flames that rise.
Wipping and turning in the night sky, the dark brought to the light.
 No care for my sparks being pushed out and across the valleys.
They seek only the light and warmth that they know I can bring them.
Its too hard and too fast, I yearn for one to feed me in a tinder way.
The patients to let me go with them, seared into their flesh and mind.
Combustion of fuel, air, and desire; to dance in the shadows we make.

© Jeph Rants

Reflex in blue

I closed my lids and focused on where I needed to go.
They opened to find me in the oceans between waves.
Alone in the wide open with nothing but blue up and down.
No gravity pulling me towards the dirt far below my feet.
The air too thin to pull myself free from the brine I'm in.
My lungs filled with enough to hold me afloat upon tides.
A breaker comes to silence my calls for anyone to help.
The hollows fill with wet salt and my eyes burn closed.
My chest heaves as I sink again between the surging.
Ripples caused by a breeze push past my exposed parts.
It whispers to me that I should no longer fight the brink.
I do not try to inflate myself and watch the sky slip away.
Down I go with out a splash until only my fingers left.
Long and narrow my body slides beneath the surface.
Rainbows of color fill my sight as the prisms tend to do.
My gaze still towards the life above the deep I sink into.
Its becoming part of me and I am only but part of it now.
The light moves away, I feel convulsions, my body fights.
With a whisper I hear to come home and be at peace.
No need for struggle as my time lays in the sands below.


 © Jeph Rants