Mother and Son at Twilight

The red speck in the evening sky slid between the hills.
The tilted wine glass promises somewhere near.
While lonesome mothers struggled to pay their bills,
The children of the night shed no tear.

Less a pouring wine glass and more a raised sickle,
With both we seek and pursue the resolve to rebel
Against the watery eyes' trickle, a matter of pride
And against the state's oppression, a piercing decibel.

"Won't you cease to see that sign, son, and think once for yourself.
Notice a certain leeway, the incentive to run?
The reflection in the water is not what holds my eye.
I've seen too many fishes who've fallen for the bait."

The indicator says left, but you turn right
The sign says stop, but you still want to ride.
In the corners of a disintegrating mind
A misleading light.

Spider

Caught in his own masterpiece spiderweb of play,
The hunter cried foul.
"The sticky strings that once fetched food,
the geckos now tread with their tongues stretched out.
Territorial disputes have I none,
just a couple of foes in the corner of the room.
Looks to me its time I left,
Straight to the center of my empire.
The ceiling fan, there, flourishes in its reign.
Could mean the end or a cobweb of glory.
If the end, I wouldn't feel sorry.
Just another martyr in the age old battle.
Or, worse, in history's tablets an intentional mistake."
24 hours since his realization,
Yet he's still stuck in his spiderweb.

Sparks

Fire neurons like firecrackers in the night sky
Light a jeweled flame, A jubilant thought.
To dissuade all Fascists who want to shut minds
A dialogue between two specks in the sky.

A man-made masterpiece or a passing meteor,
Who cares as long as it lights up the night.
The sound's too loud for a sleeping man's taste
But he got to rise now for the punk's at work.

Stuck in the jar the fireflies danced
Until the watcher tightened the lid.
Exchanged for greens, the fireflies lie
Two lost insects in esoteric charm.