Your house was at the end of the alley,
The weak sun was  blessing late afternoon on your white four-story building,
It was the arrival of dark winter , full of cold blanket,
I saw my downfall in your black eyes.

Crows in the winter, or flocks of sparrows,
The street was full of tired and cold people.
Nature smiles at the sun's assurance,
In the breath of winter  the air was heavy,
That day was the last day of December.
I saw my downfall in your lovely eyes.

On that day the dead grass cursed the gray earth,
The moon gave a box full of moon to a sleeping Lakshmi owl,
The doors and windows of the mind were closed forever,
The bones of the grave and the blind rotten flesh gathered, and dance till late night.

Life has been nowhere since then,
All there was just the dead soul.
The wife of sun returns to the darkness,
to find her lost love.

Our love was lost in the blink of a gray winter,
In your magic eyes, in my foolish heart.

I close my eyes because
I want to sleep through the darkest nights
Of December,
Sink into the depths of my consciousness
Who doesn’t remember
The events of earlier today.

They’re trying to **** me.

Polluted my mind,
Body
And soul.
Left me to rot, freezing
In the bitter cold.

Poisoned me with pure
Lies and deception.
Almost made me believe there is
No solution.
Almost made me believe I
Have no power in this situation.
So yes,
I should cancel my endeavours?
And wait until the damages are reversed?
So yes,
I should stay inside and
Keep my head down
Staring into the
Darkest glowing light
And get ****** into an abyss and miss
On what it truly means to be free?

You almost made me believe it.

I close my eyes in hope of a reset.
I worry if my future will be plagued
By regret.

The soul of my civilisation is infested
With worms and centipedes from the root.
My generation have been bent, burned
And broken into submission.
My elderly in ambivalence die neglected
In isolation,
My needy bite their lip in frustration
Because yet again they have to get
Used to a new brand of corruption.

And we stay silent and lower our heads
And keep our tails between our legs
And say “yes do whatever you please”
And hope that finally they have
Our best interest?

Is this madness?

This is a form of sick, twisted art,
But when did this level of manipulation
Even start?

And there comes a point where
I have to ask myself:
In all this mess,
What is my part?

It feels good,
done right, it feels good.
It touches good
life,
the quality, the measurable
usable weight, the worth
of thinking, right,
like
I KNOW
this is good, this gift, this pain
reminding me,
death happens all the time,
putting me in mind as a chooser,
chance taker,
cheater, by God, if I know what
I thought
I knew…

craps, roll again, I'm rich.
I got all the time in the world.

When you win right, nobody loses.

I'm down on the floor,
beggin' You,
my True Faithful Amen,
because it's up to You.
not ending this with, 'amen' -
it's not done, it doesn't end,
not until I see,
my Amen face to face,
saved from this place.
@author_venjarnold

The rain knows
only how to fall heavily,
and still remains beautiful

But I know only the
loneliness of December

We live on the dark street at night,
Rows of old houses huddled in the cold.
Only one small door has a hesitant light
Glowing yellow against wooden gold.

Flowers and weeds are crushed and dry,
Wreathing withered, brown, grass yards.
Frozen blades crack as feet walk by,
Only wild things cross the hay-like swards.

Old people huddle near the wood stove
Or bake bread and pies in the oven.
Their little dogs are let out for a minute’s rove.
Even they shy away from a world so frozen.

The world of black and white
Dims sight and stultifies the senses
It dulls imagination.
So one goes to sleep and waits.

Waits for morning and
The first ray of sun
Reminding one of spring
And the light, warming the street.

December 2020

Dearest don't you worry you'll live forever.
I'll hide you deep in my heart;
you and i together.
I'll hide you in my paper with ink in my pen,
I'll speak with you through my words 'till we meet again.

Dearest don't you worry you'll live forever in my world,
'cause i hid you inside the poems i wrote.
Dearest you will be remembered;
like how people think of Christmas every December.