Poetry Tapping On My Door
Wickedry the poetry that refuses to let me sleep in a hammock on the river of spiritual revival
Wickedry I tell you ... What dares keep me awake
Aggressive in the most gentle way...
My soul has millions of truths to recite
Obviously at an odd yet even hour tonight
Encounters of wisdom as of recent days
Astounding the melody, growth seems to play
Tunnels so dark and grim
Yet comforting to the view
Locomotive roaring it's glorious chant
Lights light up the tunnel gradually, with charm
Laughter infused with love ..
None harmed
As the train whooshes through with grace
The joy of something I will not ever wish to replace
Shadows of colors illuminate the windows of my mind
Twisted comfort in it's gesture I seem to find
Hues of vanity, insanity, chaos and war
Old acquaintances that dare not knock on the door
Plot twist upon revelation...a revolution of ideas all anew
Poetic insanity, ever so true
Chaos in music...riffs, crossovers, snare drum
War of time's captives, past present and tomorrow... There are some
Wisdom of my past, I borrow only for appreciation of a heart released of things out of it's control
Sweet surrender of nothing but peace
Found years ago
My demons acknowledged... Be it so
Awakening to new adventures of transition
Focus on a upgraded ambition
War of will not that of implications false, vague
And without merit
War on negativity, devil's whispers, the lost
Willpower to defeat the vibes of don't, can't and don't deserve, not qualified
Father God chooses who HE chooses from HE sees on the inside
The sense of urgency to smile big
Something is being put to light
The path is being set
Something surprising and yet deserved
Wickedry doth lay it's headline on my lap
Faith is refreshed, deception is slapped
What fool does dare any act of betrayal
All signs point to their epic fail
I am that of love barbaric and pure
Just as I am that of rage put to the side
Peace won me over in a battle of wit
Inclined to persevere and vowed to not ever quit
Passions of plenty...
I remember at one point it was as if there are not any
Wickedry of my rusty use of phrases
Need me to decipher through the mazes
Lots of energy in the world being drawn right and left ... Low & high
Ground your focus... Do not let whispers distract
Beauty so wicked...
Poetry tapping on my door...Always will let you in
After all, how dare I ever deny a true friend?
Just writing to write
Perhaps someone has plenty on their mind
I feel it strongly, I do
It only gets better...that is true
2:24a.m
4/24/2022
Copyright © Kathy Guerra | Year Posted 2022
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