Change

Change is not what he seems,
As he speaks behind a mask of tyranny.
He is portrayed as light in our darkest hour.

Few pierce through his veil of tyranny
While his words of deceit engage to be your friend;
Like a fire on an arctic night protecting those in dismay.

Blind are they who seek what he seeks;
Following into the darkness of his abyss
Seeking indoctrination into the carnage of him.

Whoa to those who follow so blindly!

The depravities of their minds do not allow him to be seen
As he eagerly awaits to encroach upon his flock
His indoctrination of carnage.

From this day onward he is known as truth;
His flock only comprehends what he allows them to see.
Young and old, rich and poor, they look upon his name;

Truth no longer remains among his sheep,
They choose to exchange truth for his fallacies:
All the while their ears tingle with the masquerade entitled, Change.

Change by K. Saitta © 2008, A Walk In Verse

My Eyes

My eyes have faded into the darkness of night;
My mind is haunted with visions of white.
Light decomposes into perils of gray,
The visions I knew no longer remain.

If you look upon me,
Suffering not seen;
Internal agony
Has raised against me.

I travel my days in confusion and rage;
Vision of spirals torment my gaze.
My eyes cannot see the painterly light
As beautiful hues turn black and white.

If you look upon me,
Suffering not seen;
Internal agony
Has raised against me.

My life has changed from this moment in time
As I cry to seek the painterly light.
And with these eyes of carnage and pain
Are spirals that blind with colors of gray.

If you look upon me,
Suffering not seen;
Internal agony
Has raised her hand unmercifully.

My Eyes by K. Saitta © 2008, A Walk In Verse

My Grandparents

Met at birth
In a room
Two people
Filled with love.

With their hearts
They impart
-- Like a father
     And a mother --
Tremendous love
To a young child
As to a son.

Memories cherished
A childhood treasured

A gift
From God
Above.

     My Grandparents!

My Grandparents by K. Saitta © 2007, A Walk In Verse

Art From Within

It is the thing we create from within.
From the depth of our soul
Where our passion does live.
The place we seek to find the unseen,
Those things that are seen
Within our minds and our dreams,
The things that others have not yet seen.

A vision where those can gaze and be free,
By a master at play while capturing his dreams
Upon the canvas where the art lives and breathes
Away from other influence, that he may have seen.

The art does not copy the others of known,
Instead each piece is the artists very own.
By bracing his feet upon the ground where he stands,
The art comes from within, by the masters own hands.

Art From Within by K. Saitta © 2007, A Walk In Verse

A Land of Disgrace

A land I know where one can’t speak
      Except for the councilmen’s bias filled speech.
Persecutions flow through this once great land
      Like an axe in battle as it slaughters the next man.
Unjust and fowl as these leaders may be
      Does not matter to the master of these so-called elite.
Go now and seek a new place to dwell
      And never return to this place called hell.

A Land of Disgrace by K. Saitta © 2007, A Walk In Verse

Peace Within

The waters swift within this place,
Swift as ocean currents break,
Waters racing from mountains above
Filling her shores with icy sludge:

Waters so black, yet white as snow,
A force so strong one cannot ignore.
Tearing trees from life and limb,
Changing the environment upon a whim.

And in this place, you sit so strong
As peace embellishes your granite walls.
A scene serene in which you make,
No movement do you create.

You sit strong as your neighbors fall.
You embrace the waters that climb your wall.
You stand fast for all to see,
You’re the peace within this glorious scene.

Peace Within by K. Saitta © 2007, A Walk In Verse

Train Car #8

Ancient wonder in our modern world
Filled with desires no soul can acquire.
The wonders of the ancient elements,
The creation of the minds desire,

Oh, splendor of ancient wheels:
Turning as the ocean breaks,
Spinning beyond the age of industry,
Living in the mind of a society past.

Alone in a world with no love,
Lost to the silence of death,
Hidden in a grave of lost artifacts:
Ignored, stripped, ridden of all breath.

Transformed through the vision of the creative one,
Rediscovered with the analog savior.
A medium so exquisite,
Reborn to your profound glory,

Rendered in silver and salts
With tones of exquisite illumination;
The rival of modern mediums,
Generations will see you in your glory.

Fiber, double weight,
Mounted for the world to admire.
Oh Silver Gelatin, beautiful illumination,
The envy of digital modernism.

Train Car #8 by K. Saitta © 2007, A Walk In Verse

A Childs Cry

Children wasted in the educational facility of emptiness.
Educators preach to the untouchable.
Children untended left to defend from the imaginable.
The perverted wait to execute the unspeakable.

Children destroyed through single acts of senseless violence.
Childhoods erased, reborn to the adulthood of anguish.
Innocence vanquished to a forever sea of suffering,
Never to re-claim what the malicious have taken in silence.

Children weep in torment as their scars forever remain;
Bloody intentions embrace their desires:
They will search for vengeance against their aggressors,
With murderous memories, to reclaim what the wicked acquired.

The twisted remain to prey upon our communities
Without consequence for their acts of morbid sickness;
They prowl, inflicting with transgressions:
No reflection for their intentions of wickedness.

Magistrates protect the incomprehensible.
The innocent, silenced by the legal voice of recklessness.
No righteous resurrection from the fatalities of transgressions.
Children mourn with murderous abandonment.

All the while children cry and die every day!

A Childs Cry by K. Saitta © 2007, A Walk In Verse

A Child Alone

Born into a world of deception,
Embraced in a life of abuse,
Tormented by a state of abandonment,
Betrayed by parents of youth.

Destroyed by words of profanities,
Tortured without excuse,
Alone in a house of misery:
Torn, battered and confused.

Compelled to a life of insignificance
With their endeavors never seen,
Their family – a false reality,
Alone with only their dreams.

Assaulted with no explanation
By parents who destroy with their hands;
A child bruised and broken
Can only dream of oceans and sands.

Alone in a world with no one,
Their voice never heard nor seen,
Locked in a room of obscurities,
Waiting till death sets them free.

Violence speaks to this child
With no escape to be seen,
Alone in this house of tragedy:
Withdrawn, suicidal and unseen.

A Child Alone by K. Saitta © 2007, A Walk In Verse

Life Lessons

Life’s riddled with hidden meanings
Like the oceans in a torrent storm;
Waves compressed as it nears its beaches,
Unleashing its power to explore.

White crests shattering their next victim,
Like an inferno engaged in war,
Haunting those who embrace its riddles,
Sending them plummeting to the floor.

Lessons of life never respected,
Repeated by youth to endure.
Elders look with eyes of sorrow,
Disbelieving as the foolish mourn.

Life Lessons by K. Saitta © 2007, A Walk In Verse

Seaweed and Kelp

Twisted and tangled within your form
Overlooked by many,
No one can see your beauty lie
Amongst the rocky dwellings of Point Lobos.

The day passes, the tide draws near,
Your elegance soon to be forgotten.
Eager to be a vision remembered,
An artist sees your beautiful rhythm.

An artist keen to the turmoil you bring,
A vision seen as no other;
Analog dreams, rest assured,
You will never be forgotten.

The mighty Deardorff sets upon the Riess
Pointed down with bellows drawn;
Meter read, zone three checked,
Your precious memory lives on!

Displayed in a silvery light
Upon the wall to admire,
A glance, and your viewer stares,
Your memory was acquired.

Seaweed and Kelp by K. Saitta © 2007, A Walk In Verse

Days of Past

We stand by those we trust,
All the while they transgress against us.
Friend or foe to behold?
For only they will surely know.

Trust someone in this day and age
Is nothing more than a noble cliché.

Slanderous words of dishonesty,
Destroying your character with their brutality.
The world believes them as they lie,
Who can one trust in this earthly enterprise?

Longing for the days of old
When men were men, as good as gold.

I long for days where a handshake meant
Your word was your bond, and honor felt.
Agreements made without paper convention;
Handshakes were the business transaction.

Honor flowed throughout the lands
Where everyone gave a helping hand.
A favor wasn't soemthing that needed returned,
As a friend indeed was something earned.

Days of past will not return
As immoral acts are loved and learned.
Handshakes, a thing of the past,
Your word, a thing that no longer lasts.

Days of Past by K. Saitta © 2007, A Walk In Verse

The Future of Creativity

The presence of our contemporary age
Alters artistic vision down a spiral of emptiness.
Artist no longer creating the visual page,
Spellbound by ambitions of digital laziness.

Visions lost to the age of simplicity,
Erased to machines’ evil desires,
Deluded by storms of deception,
Creativity ceased as hell endures its fires.

Instant gratification -- the new reality --
No yearning for excellence being acquired.
Modern day artistic visions,
Coerced by digital desires.

Tradition bankrupt by false realities,
Lost to a pallet of ones and zeros;
Artwork with no archival ability,
The future lost to modern day technologies.

The Future of Creativity by K. Saitta © 2007, A Walk In Verse

What’s to come?

Death decays daily life,
Eventually everyone endures this everlasting plight.
Articulating afterthoughts of life’s atrocities,
Traversing tragically with tremendous uncertainties,
Helplessly hoping heaven accepts you mercifully.

What’s to come? by K. Saitta © 2007, A Walk In Verse