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