I’ve paid my debt to society
need I always suffer more?
I’ve closed my heart off to everything
as I should have done before.

I’ve felt the pain wax stronger, stronger
pressing ever on my mind.
To bear the shame I’ve ventured farther
ever sleepless through the night.

Is there one that could ever love me?
Will ever be someone who cares
Beyond my shame filled heart so hurting
past the sorrows gathered there?

Or am I destined for these choices’
consequences here declared
All while my life moves on noiseless
as a vapor in the air.



Thus in the beginning,
Though hearts without end
Begged of their future
To offer amends,
There was no returning
To life’s former trends
And last in the earning
Of recompense sent
Those methods of facing
Token bitter ends
Left hearts full but breaking–
Unamitous* men.

* As apparently there is no such word in the English language to describe the above mentioned state of being as pertaining to individuals, I have taken it upon myself to ignore protocol and coin my own word. While I understand this may invite a higher level of scrutiny, it is a risk I am willing take in the interest of literary accuracy. If any of my readers can provide me with an equally appropriate word that may currently be found in the English language, the existence of which somehow I have missed, please make this pedantic author aware! I will unpretentiously correct myself…

But regardless as always, thank you for reading.

~Edward Landers

Unamitous (un•am•i•tus) – adjective

The state or habit of disinterest in amicable relationships.
(Synonyms) Disinterested. Sociopathic. Unamicable.

a devils game

To everyone watching her plight
It seemed she fell away
Buried herself deep inside
And hid from everything.
But they could not witness the fight
Within her soul that raged:
He’d crept, a thief, into her life
And left there scars and shame.

The one trusted to hold her tight
And guard her with his strength
Had cloaked his poison in disguise
Until it was too late.
At last intentions brought to light
Revealed the brutal gaze–
But after she had given life
And suffered in his flame.

While to those ones whose watchful sight
Believed she’d fell away–
Hidden behind her languid eyes
Is a torturous pain.
Thus do not judge her silent plight
For she herself has gained
A judgement so determined by
A devil and his games.

All We Are

Come share a moment of your time, for time is all we have.

Your wealth, your privilege, status symbols end and never last.

Though time, some say, will end soon too, without it all we are:

Our hearts not beating, life unmoving, emotionlessly scarred.

Remove all other vestiges, all remnants leave behind,

Then try to tell me who you are without this gift of time.

When last you’ve reached the reckoning of my somber request

Submit your answer don’t hold back, all this at my behest

And truth you may ignore desires, either one or twain

But in so doing you have given answer all the same.


Behind the Masquerade

With witty words and fluent phrases

I’ve performed on many stages

Dazzling critics with my charm

All this done to my own harm.

For to the master of disguise

The world’s a stage where none can hide

Save only by appearing as

One who hides nothing he has.

But as such kept in secret still

Is the heart and active will

For none will often see beyond

The stages lights and magic’s con

Thereby while hidden it’s free

The heart to rest alone in peace

Until that time when someone more

Than pretty faces well adorned

Makes an entrance through the walls

And for that form the heart will fall.

Thus stripped of masquerading games

The heart and soul sits on display

And sleight-of-hand cannot replace

The truth behind the curtained stage.

So here I sit in solitude

Pondering what can I do?

For all the wit and charm of mine

Is useless to the purest mind.

Somehow you’ve gained an entrance through

These walls for years I’d built and hewn.

My bag of tricks is thrown away

The mask at last ripped from my face.

The games are worn my words run few

I didn’t know I needed you.

My hearts been stolen by another

More than thoughtless broken lovers

By an angel I can’t reach

For I’ve not yet learned how to speak

Without the workings of my mind

To cloak my feelings in disguise.

For years of painting on a face

Of smiles kept my heart at bay

Always left behind the stage

Not welcome in my masquerade.

But like an angel sent from heaven

You broke the chains, opened its prison

And now revealed for what it is

The gilded stage has lost its bliss.

Though critics scoff at purity

And players scorn reality

I find anew my soul is kindled

To pursue what once had dwindled.

Wait for me is all I ask

Till I’ve learned to live with no mask.


What Will Endure

It is with a sense of fondness that I bid you all farewell
You’ve taught me to unchain the heart that I had bound so well.

I feel rekindled in my soul for life beyond the grave
And know that though I leave you my love never goes away.

You who were most instrumental- loosening the clasps
Think well of me when I’ve moved on remember what I ask.

But ah, I know ’tis foolish thoughts to e’en recall my name
For in the end you’ll move on too- all soon forget my face.

I am the voice of him unheard.
I am the heart that can endure.
I am the one who stands alone.
I am the stranger no one knows.
I am the love still unrequited.
I am the dream that once delighted.
I am the road that no one traveled
I am the future that’s been trampled.

I am one of ten thousand songs
That’s never sung until they’re gone

I am the hope for something more
beyond the reach of closing doors.

I am the voice of him unheard
I am the heart that will endure.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

     Well it’s been awhile since I have included a personal note to my writings; I guess letting my work do the talking has appealed more to me as of late. But I wanted to take a moment here to thank you dear reader for your attention and consideration of my work. I wish nothing further save for a moment your mind be taken away from your personal struggles, problems, and whatever else may be weighing upon you and transported to my world of rhyme and often reminiscent nostalgia.

As this poem is, yet again, another speaking of goodbyes I cannot help but realize how fleeting is our interaction. How brief is any interaction. We say hello, we say goodbye, and the time spent in between, no matter how long, becomes nothing more than memories. Fleeting thoughts to be lost to our imaginations and locked away into histories forgotten. The best friend from high school, the first girlfriend, or the adopted uncle or aunt who has passed on. The dreams of youth. The first grade teacher.

Those forgotten, these remembered,
all whose legacies last forever:

These are the voices still unheard
These are the hearts that will endure.

Cheers to all,