trails from the rivers of tears

they were left behind,
they had faith but was left behind.

they cried for help,
they cried for help to no avail.

they were scared.
they were scared and now alone.

they were cast aways,
they were cast aways and loners.

they were branded,
they were branded as traitors of faith, backsliders.

but Jesus came,
but Jesus came and cried with them.

He cried and wept,
for He knows how painful it is,
fallen angels…


written: October 18, 2012
Gabs Narazo
© 2012 [bLURrED publikation]

avenue of the broken hearted

they walked this path before.
they were carrying heavy loads of burden,
they were looked down by these people
who were just passing through.
but they’re not really helping.

they tossed coins to the broken,
hoping that this will ease up their pain,
thinking that money will make them smile.
but they’re wrong, oh so wrong.

they wore masks just to smile,
although they’re walking nice and slow,
they’re still limping from the pains of their bodies.

they are now willing to give up everything,
if someone would just stop by and listen,
they’re singing their tunes,
the ballads of the fallen angles.

written: October 17, 2012
Gabs Narazo
© 2012 [bLURrED publikation]

death of a poet – part 1

the night was shattered by a cry,
a loud cry from the house of poetry.
the whole block heard and they ran,
they looked for but have found none.

they saw a body instead, soaked in blood.
he has gunshot wounds and stab wounds too.
and on his right hand is his pen that he uses,
while there are papers on his left side.

he is the poet, by heart and by deed.
poetry was his life and outlet for everything.
words that he cannot express where written down,
all of his emotions he poured onto the papers.

but the police found no evidence of foul play,
all that they found is the body of the poet.
he has nobody, no one in his life for questioning,
what they have now is a puzzle of death.

the poet lies on the ground,
his hands holding tight a small paper with writings of his last work.

the mysterious death of the poet confuses nobody.
by the way, “who ever cared for a senseless poet like me?”

written: November 20, 2003
Gabs Narazo
© 2006 [bLURrED publikation]