Judas Kiss
The robbery of the soul...
The trampling of boundaries
like a frenzied stampede of
elephants..
The cutting of ties that bound
us with reckless abandon.
Emblazoned with it's name,
PRIDE, across the blade,
It's a slash to the face that
stoically said "I do",
A stab to the back that never
turned on you.
Face pale from the blood loss
and from the fear of what is to
come...making it hard move.
Need a transfusion of Life....
This is not civility....this is not
friendship....This is not who I
once knew
Plastic bags and suitcases,
Shattered drywall and dreams,
Neon lights and breakbeats,
Cold nights and empty sheets,
nicotine and alcohol dreams,
things are not what they
seemed....
Trying to break the downward
spiral, this wasteland is a
strange land to me
We're not where we're
supposed to be, you see
Just a thread of hope is all I
asked for,
And I would have woven a
beautiful tapestry to cover you
with.
I'm sending desperate heavenly
petitions in the middle of the
night,
Eloquence is replaced because
of desperation and urgency
with wordless groans,
The moans of a weary soul
stuck in the pit of despair
Hands covered in blood
clutching my chest,
The blade has run straight
through the heart
Et tu Brutes?
The lack of rhyme or reason
makes it hard to fight for
breath
Struggling for gasps of air.....no
air.
I refuse to concede my mind to
the madness,
To turn my heart over to a
fallen angel feast as they have
done already
The unwarranted meal is no
more,
I wait for the Sonrise to
illuminate
Because the reasons and
chasms in between are great.
The narrow road is treacherous,
can't see through the fog
Ears strain to hear the voice of
God.
Angels come dislodge the blade
Before the poison of Bitterness
begins seep through the veins.
It's covered in deep red.
Forged from dark depths,
begging me to pick it up and
wield it just the same for
revenge.
Rage and righteous indignation
consume me and justify my
desire to reach for it,
But Devine Hands stay mine,
"This is not the weapon for this
warfare.....trust Me"
No answers or reasons...... only
promises given
That in this wasteland
The myrtle and acacia will rise
where thorns and thistles grow
Streams will flow from where
desert winds blow
So that people may see and
understand.....
Promises of Strength,
Restoration
So carry on....
Diamonds are not made on
white sandy beaches,
And warriors are not groomed
at their mother's breast.
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