Clearing the land of valuable minerals, metals to build weapons of war
Blowing up millions in bombs, land, businesses and homes
Earth depleted yields humans sick from lack of needed minerals
What will be the end?
I am a four cornered eye catcher
silver framed and truthful
I hold nothing back
even through forgotten care
my view is very clear
I see the light in the day and
the darkness in the night
she comes alone to seek answers
and weeps leaving teardrops at my feet
I am always a good listener, but I lack the comfort that she needs
I used to think my strength was simple
I bend
I shift
I move
I read the room like scripture
Rewriting myself to fit it
That was my edge
My armor
My adaptation instinct sharpened to a blade
Strength gets sneaky
When you stop watching it
It grows roots
It grows rules
It grows into the only shape you remember
They told me it was medicine.
A cure in a capsule.
A little light in liquid form,
a powder path to paradise.
It whispered like honey,
slid smooth down my veins,
said, “I’ll heal your hurt, hush your hunger,
pull the storm from your skull.”
And it did.
Oh, it did.
The world slowed
colors stretched into forever, and my chest unclenched like a fist finally letting go.
But the bottle had teeth.
The pill had claws.
The powder carried a price tag I couldn’t read at first.
Every high built a higher wall.
Every flight carved a deeper fall.
The nectar that kissed me sweetly at midnight
bit me raw by dawn.
It is love that leaves bruises.
A friend who steals your shoes while you sleep.
A healer who poisons the wound so you’ll crawl back begging for the cure.
They don’t tell you the double-edged truth:
that the elixir doesn’t choose.
It cuts both ways
one side silk, one side steel.
And you,
you are the bleeding in between.
So I stand with the glass in my hand,
heart trembling on the rim.
Asking myself
is it medicine?
Or is it blade?
And the silence answers,
“Both.”
The message of life
Cut like a two edged sword
Through the darkness night.
I followed your success,
I heard all of your music, and you sang them great,
what progress,
Names on billboards,
Bet men waiting to be your date
Awards,
What? Who?
That's not me, wait --
you?
I followed your success,
Bet men waiting to be your date
you?
Life truly is a double-edged sword,
The grass is greener on what side of the fence?
Who knows,
But that is life …
~ Pauly G
had coffee with a colleague
he was young and eager
wanted to play Russian roulette
because his resources were meagre
the universe conspires with us
granting us whatever we wish
but if fear and doubt makes us blink
boons granted are gone in a swish
A little knowledge is a bad thing. Too much can be worse.
Silenced voices, feared by those in power.
Utopia sought, only dystopia flowers.
Protect all speech, diverse and free.
Perception leads to a society that is truly.
Redeemed expression, a beacon bright.
Escorting us through the darkest nights.
Silenced speech, we've lost our way.
Shaping the fascists we sought to slay.
Marriage is a two-edged sword
One end brandished by your overlord
~ At the other, your oxen gored
I write of two-edged swords (that tired clichè)
as though this modern boy knew hilt from blade;
as if I had been taught of true swordplay,
not learned from movies Errol Flynn had made.
But plainly put, things work more than one way:
the lake that offers joy can also drown,
the sun that melts the wax can harden clay,
the fire that heats the meal burns houses down.
A hammer is adept at building things,
though hammer's claw might tear the same apart.
The kiss that first gave freedom to love's wings,
when given to another, broke my heart.
Two-edged clichès may give the reader pause -
I know firsthand the damage they can cause.
written 30 Apr 2022
young stud adonis
most beautiful of all gods
~ handsome devil too
By
David Kavanagh
creations blueprint
deciphering gods secrets
or mary shelly
By
David Kavanagh
There’s two sides to every story
A little bit of pain and a little bit of glory
Love and hate become so often entwined
Wrapping so tightly the heart that they bind
There’s two parts in every duet
A chorus of hope and a verse of regret
Sometimes you’re the singer sometimes the song
Getting the tune right but the rhythm all wrong
There are two directions that this path has
Left to finish first the right to finish last
One way is a smooth course the other is rough
Your journey brief or arduously tough
There’s humility in winning honour in defeat
There is always two versions of everyone we meet
Justice is served with discrimination on the side
Dished up immediately or after a goodbye
I sit in the middle of the scales of life
Contemplating ,empathising,on the tip of a knife
At times I’m understood and at others I am not
I am part of the universe, an insignificant dot
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