On the wall, keeper of time,
The hands of truth continue to wind.
It ticks with the steady beat of my heart—
A loud, continuous nudge,
A reminder: "Remember you must die."
The hands of a clock mirror our life.
With each swing of the pendulum,
A little less time.
Each second, a moment closer to demise,
As the sun sinks low in the western sky.
Fear not your shadow; accept the night.
The clock keeps winding,
As the daylight turns to night—
With each tick, clarity speaks softly
Purpose shines brightest just before midnight
As time fades away-
Embrace the fallen night
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
As a caboose is to a train,
September is to the summer.
The train finishes with red,
the summer also finishes with red.
Red from the hot days,
red from the painful sunburns,
red from barbequing over hot coals,
red showing off the long pretty sunsets.
Like a bear sleeping through winter,
I would love to sleep through the summer.
When the hot summer is over,
when September ends you must wake me up
Oh yes,
I want to see the pretty fall colors.
The trees are dressed in golds, oranges and rusts,
the squirrels are having fun playing tag,
as they hide their nuts for the winter.
The very hot weather is gone until next year,
a cool breeze covers me like a soft blanket.
As September says good-bye until next year,
winter will set in with cold winds.
Old sweaters will come out ready to wear,
as a new one or two will be bought.
What a magical time of the year,
holidays with family, friends and food,
celebrating one year out and a new one coming in.
I have crossed the years of eternal time.
Watching and listening to sorrowful cries.
Whispers beckon deliverance to heal this pain.
I feel dark emptiness; am I going insane?
I must embrace it!
As the melancholy sun sets with autumn rays.
Stars linger on as the sky moves in darkened waves.
I walk on the path of reminiscing when love was lost.
Knowing that the sacrifice performed came with a cost.
I must embrace it!
Fear unbounded transforms into fiery hate of death.
It is in the perception that drives humanity to unrest.
Gathering gloom, creating false and hopeless despair.
Attempting deception to protect its fear with care.
I must embrace it!
Beyond the intrinsic attention that cultivates this madness.
Comes the human-loving soul, invoking hope for happiness.
The artistic soul creates avenues of reflective compassion.
Bringing forth unity of love among us as we embrace his greatness.
I must embrace it, the loving divine!
On the inaccessible peak,
There must be flowers—
Soft as whispers, bright as stars,
Untouched by earthly hours.
No hand may pluck their Grace,
No foot may mar their place—
On the inaccessible peak,
There must be flowers.
Oh, the seekers come and go,
Clutching truths they’ll never know—
But the summit, cold and deep,
Guards its bloom in sacred sleep.
Veils of mist obscure the climb,
Fate selects the few to find.
What is pure will not be seen,
By the eyes that crowd between.
On the inaccessible peak, there must be flowers,
White as the dawn, untouched by hours.
No voice to name them, no step to mar,
They gleam like vows on heights afar.
On the inaccessible peak,
There must be flowers—
Untouched by the seekers who climb,
Unspoiled by hours.
Where no voice calls,
And no foot treads at all,
On the inaccessible peak,
There must be flowers.
And if one soul, by Grace, should rise,
They’ll find the bloom… with chastened eyes.
They kneel in the temple of silence,
Where echoes dare not break the air—
The chosen, the cold, and the blameless,
Alone are permitted there.
why must time go on if i am unable?
why must love be so cruel yet so sweet?
like the bright hue of a grapefruit,
hiding its bitter flesh
like a forgotten face
nameless to all but the heart.
if i must go on,
then i implore time to stop
for there is enough distance between
what was, and what now will never be,
for the rest of eternity.
But to your moon must I wane?
I have always had issues with the word must
I understand that waning is a natural process
but MUST I?
When your heart is shattered,
life changes and I have felt the changes
inside myself, becoming someone different,
in some ways softer and in other ways, harder
But I still have problem with the word must,
it feels like an order and I do indeed have issues
with following orders, I am one who does the right thing
99% of the time, but order me to do it and see what happens
People have told me that I MUST keep moving since my son died,
and moving forward I have indeed accomplished,
however, I have done that because God held me close in his arms
and guided my steps, NOT because someone told me to
Battle axe (For the 2nd Half) ... "At last!"
Way too fast past the rescue rascal hassling haphazardly mastered dastardly bastards' fractions of captioning cast iron spiraling wired wax on wax off golf cart Bart Simpson minced garlic cubes boob tube huge goober schooner dooms Days Taser taker wafer run stun gun NOT funny honey bun for one shunned lonesome wholesome quotient potion grunt of a stunt punt the ball into mid autumn leaves fall raking reiki draped date maker place mat patty whack hacky sack crap slapped happy tap dance romance slanted jambalaya riot spliced mice diet quiet cheese, please teases on both knees bereavement easing Fort Leavenworth girth that brings birth to twerk twerps slurred slurping squirts of hurting beef Jerky lurching around the church yard disbarred and charred crash cars 100 yards too far to see scars Mars rover Range Rover Red rover come over 4 leaf clover lawn mower seed Sower leaf blower as NOT just another voter devotional spokesperson swerving tertiary but too scary hairy fairy blue berry merry go round sage turns the page safe and sound clown town brown bag the sandwich fad dude and all of that...
My lightsaber can be a mood ring,
that is what makes it so powerful.
It is cathartic when you must swing.
Between lavender and aqua flexing,
never do two shades appear equal.
My lightsaber can be a mood ring.
There’s danger in emotions building,
be cognizant and keep them stable.
It is cathartic when you must swing.
A slash will leave your body stinging.
Keep the core temperature normal,
my lightsaber can be a mood ring.
The goal to be the last one standing,
your fire makes that unavoidable.
it is cathartic when you must swing.
I wield a weapon ever-changing.
Pick a fight? Mind the hue be careful.
My lightsaber can be a mood ring,
it is cathartic when you must swing.
Sounds of spoken silence, a slight bit slippery,
Comfortable claims that ease and sing perfect songs,
Rescuing eruptive ridges embroidered in effervescent languages,
Oh, the uncomplex nature of your predictable valiance,
I’ve watched plenty of promises pretend to prosper,
While pouring perishing peace into pieces of me.
If to love you, sunken scars must bleed not bruise,
If to move you, soul must listen not speak
If we must live, what parts of us would die?
For I ache to pierce through materials manufactured by misled manipulators,
So, Before the instrument full of stain begins its calligraphy,
Mark me with the winter that hold your heart,
Tell the frost, how your limbs draw out my gravest parts,
It is your festering flaw, your voice that still anguishes me,
A sickness , for a figure driven by shame.
When we met,
brains went out the window.
Why should I listen to what you say?
When we met,
heart went overboard.
Why should I listen to what you say?
When we met,
you moved me now soul must listen.
I always wanted most of all to know,
but why this fierce passion I cannot say.
Other children might want to jump or throw,
and while they wished to laugh and run and play,
I read the books written through the ages -
to gain knowledge to keep danger away.
Yes, knowledge is power, said the sages,
but o'er safety and power, there is love,
and abandoning life in the pages,
and driven by a force, seemed from above,
I was drawn to a sweet flower in bloom,
but not showing what I was thinking of,
I tried in vain to possess and consume
by knowing all about her that I could
and so I lost the scent of her perfume.
An irony I wish I understood -
fifty years on, I don't know who I am.
My memory's not working like it should.
In fact, I do not even know my name.
I struggle in confusion and in shame.
If to love I must drown
the hard truth is
I loved you more than you ever loved me
that was my downfall
everyday I drown in thoughts of you
too much to bare
tired of swimming against the currents
I breathe deeply
letting the water take its grip
I am more at peace with nature than with you
If to love you, I must drown,
let me, Dear, not drown in water.
I wish to lie beside you
and drown in the profound -
of your chestnut chocolate eyes.
Say my name. Let if fall
silken from your lips.
I sink into a euphoric abyss
imagining your mouth
on the nape of my neck -
the whisper of it drifting delicately
until tenderly you tempt me with
your first soft kiss upon my lips.
Inundate me with every kiss.
There-after, I would gladly drown
in the deluge of
that tiramisu bliss.
Engulf me with lavender longings
that crescendo to a cardinal craving
with every inch of my skin
that the feathery fingers
of your beautiful hands
paint upon my quivering body
with crimson caresses.
Let me die slowly,
submerged in your ambrosial ardor,
melting with the luscious lava
of our love.
I desperately gasp for you to save me,
as your indifference begins to remove all remaining traces of oxygen from my searing lungs.
Asphyxiation becomes more imminent.
Cortisol burns through tearing muscles,
ripping the marrow from aching bones, flailing to tread water.
Exhaustion floods in; saline-soaked clothing weighs heavier.
A siren’s call pierces through obscured waves,
crescendoing under a stygian sky,
tempting me under.
Dread replaces pleading.
Hope of survival is now beyond any comprehension.
Your voice no longer lingers;
it’s superseded by forceful whispers:
“If to love you, I must drown.”
Realisation hits like a tsunami crashing upon an unsuspecting ship.
To truly love you, I must love myself.
You were never my salvation.
So I must drown in this sickening sea of anguish,
let all the trauma pull me down into sheer oblivion.
Feel my body thrash as the light leaves my submissive eyes.
In order to be reborn, I must ascend way below.
If to love you, I must drown, I shall dive because of your deep sweet love.
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