I read my life’s enchanted story,
my worry
increasing:
the last page was, but now is missing.
I read, my prospects drenched in sorrow:
tomorrow—
unknown,
not set on paper or in stone.
I read, but now it’s time to write.
All night
I shout
and scream, but what to write about
no mortal being really knows.
My prose
is rage
expressed in smears on final page.
I wrote a story
About love and life,
My life, my love
All the memories, some strife
I wrote of joy,
There was peace and praise
Hearts were broken
But love would always amaze
I wrote of wonders,
So many reasons
For heartfelt smiles,
All those seasons!
I wrote of dreams
It’s hard to believe
All those treasures
I just couldn’t conceive
I wrote of grief
That came from caring
Suffering and tears
My soul I was sharing
I wrote of a lifetime
Of prayer and hope
So many changes
I found ways to cope
I wrote of beauty
In the starlit nights
Beautiful music
In the still morning lights
I wrote of knowing
How it feels to mourn
My heart is comforted
Despite this pain I’ve worn
I wrote of blessings,
Some days were so good
Every season of life
I’ve known, I’ve understood…
It is Jesus who tells me
What it means to know
The love that is with me
Love that gives a soft glow
But that final page,
The page when I’m gone
I can’t write that chapter,
It’s an ending not yet drawn.
When God tells my story,
After death has taken me home
I know that final page
Will be so amazing… sweet shalom!
may starts summer off.
june best month with birds singing.
july a 250 birthday.
aug is summer ending soon?
fall dressed in pretty colors.
There is a flow that tempts the beat to expand beyond the tempo of social endeavors.
I taste the sweet sweat of the dance that beads into my mouth like nectar of magick coursing through me to become more fluid.
Stretching out beyond the ether like a current swirling, swelling, and then motioning me deeper into bliss that vibrates in space time
Time that dissolves into synchronicity with movement of the dance
A dance of ecstasy watching her move and knowing that the moment is never ending, yet hinges on its own conclusion that most certainly must come.
Shoulders smoothly rocking, hips swaying, and eyes too demure to let words encase them with their limits.
This is the treasure of life being lived.
This is the worth of being.
As we run from the ash,
will the pyramid of peace,
save our love?
As we gasp for air,
I feel totally loved with,
"Your fingers around my soul."
As you hold me so tightly,
kiss me over and over again then,
"Kiss me when the sun sleeps..."
Here as our time is ending,
"I own your signature,"
for evermore as we close our eyes.
"I'm a vampire rose,"
is this our true death?
I can smell the sweetness of a rose,
as the vampire of life bleeds us dry.
Will we ever be found?
Some loved ones claim to care for me,
Why can't they see the suffering?
Endless pain deep within,
No longer walking, just shuffling.
Physical, mental, emotional pain,
Never adds up to a peaceful dream.
Total exhaustion in every way,
Wishing for hope, even just a beam.
All these doctors and different drugs,
"Try these now, they might work".
Never knowing for sure the hell it brings,
Just knowing the pain will continue to lurk...
Two cats
One house
One barks
One meows.
They have tails
They have limbs
They have a head
But only one can think.
Tell me which is which
And I'll tell you a tale
Of a man,
And a witch.
When the day is long but the accomplishment was worth it
The ocean never ends it is a continuous cycle of life a never ending process of living
TO A NEVER-ENDING SYMPHONY
OF EMANCIPATION’S RECONSTRUCTION
Stomping cautiously
Along the erratic cadences
Of slaved-based racism
And its quarter-note overtones,
We groove from one oppressive
Barred-beat to another:
The scored freedom sojourn
Filled with negative rest stops,
Designed to decrescendo
Wailing staccato, rhythmic screams
Of jazzy, flowing notes, echoing
With rebellious metered sounds:-
Bypassing silent apathetic rest stops,
With a crescendo of rumbling faith
And sassy melodic hopes,
Renewed booming sounds of liberation,
void of waning half notes,
Loudly burst into vibrant whole notes
Of modulating fixed purpose:
Creating a never-ending
Symphony Of Emancipation,
Conducted by spiritual directing,
Exacting melodic notes
Of an ultrasonic pulse,
Echoing a never-ending concert
And its encore sounds of
Liberty’s total reality:-
On a sunny day, under the trees,
news floats on a gentle breeze.
A gliding wheelchair makes its rounds,
with me, a load of ninety pounds.
My quiet helper hums a pretty tune.
Closed eyes see what's coming soon.
Who'd have guessed I'd ever know,
'twould be such a pleasant way to go.
With every wound that bleed, I choose to heal you
With every tear that roar, I choose to keep you
With every emotion that died, I choose to love you
I always choose you
I always choose you
Over everything thing I choose you
But that " You " was never existing
Never existing ever believing
But still I choose you
The space that " You " had in my mind, body and soul
Is the wound that I choose as a whole
The battle that " You" had with me
Are the tears that I choose as a we
The worst that " You " had found within me
Is the emotion that I choose for us to be we
It’s been a long road
No sense of direction
No ending in sight
A challenge at every junction
But it all leads to the same destination
A steady rough road
No lines painted
No guidance for me to follow
A flow that is always flowing
From corners to long stretches
Riding every bump
Slamming into every apex
Never stopping
Never slowing for a speed bump
Flying everything into the air
Over and over again
Pot holes getting deeper and deeper
Like being punched in the gut
Over and over again
Confusing and mind altering
Tiring every corner of the mind
As the long road continues
Still no end in sight
The thought of you haunts my head
Home is not a safe place
People die at home
Trapped under books and papers,
Carriers of culture, which
Should be there to save you
Yet, beguiling blindly,
The termites of destitution
Bore into the substance
Which crumbles gently
And lets you down at last
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