No Middle Ground
Miracle Man
6/12/2022
Between good and evil, there is no space,
only in our minds does this place exist.
Here, we try our works before Gods grace,
and untruth for honesty we will often twist.
In truth, we exist as either evil or good,
for G0d said he’d have us, either hot or cold.
At judgment we’ll account for the place we stood,
and if our witness for Him we’ve undersold.
Revelation 3:15
“I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot:
I would thou wert cold or hot.”
The season’s donned bright colors bold
As autumn winds move leaves to tremble
Most stunning burst in all its shades of splendor
November smiles amid vast treasure to behold
Late scented afternoon a gentle breeze cajoled
On its way out the distant sun bids fond farewell
Bestowing in sweet array its blessed rays of hope
Flaunting how nature’s kindness will never be undersold
A final curtain falls when all’s been told
Descends a hush a silence heavy with remorse
A vanished summer that’s been cut short
The golden breeze has suddenly grown cold
When with closed eyes in autumn's eves of gold
A distance grows beneath a setting evening sun
Farewell my love to thee I bid with heart so humble
My impassioned ode to the lovely last surviving marigold
AP: 1st place 2020, 3rd place 2025
Submitted on June 3, 2020 for contest BRIAN'S SELECT 3 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 2ND
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzBWSHIyaUs
Sing it loud and clear
and make it the laude voice I hear
bring me home to the hearth of my youth
where mom and dad always told the truth
sing me in behind a curtain of pure fantasy
song me through the chorus of a shasta daisy
air me out to the beat of your sweet drum
sing it out loud and sing it clear...
Sing it in your native tongue
help me climb Soprano, wrung by wrung
bring it in and hold me in, sweet cantor of old
nothing in our world of music is ever undersold
song me ahead mistake me not for dead
in this land of honey and gold , I got heart
or so I'm told...
I happen to know a flower undersold
Its radiance illuminates what little I hold
Guiding me but never holding me
Beauty undersold
Shading me from harmful reality
Delicate and pure
With shades of blue
Entrancing me towards future untold
A pillar undersold
A touch softer and fairer
Never could exist
Yet tip toed across my skin
Did it go
Gentler than reality
Never did I fail to feel reality
But always failing to see
In front of me
A reality undersold
Years go by
The rivers have gone
Suns have set
Lives have come
Lives have gone
Yet this flower blooms like the moon
In a night without stars
Guiding me, delicately, gently
Through a future untold
A flower forevermore
Black diamond, fools gold,
overpriced and undersold.
Falling vices, rising prices,
and all the things that we are told.
Percussive concussion, concussive percussion,
endless discussion.
A round of applause for revealing your flaws,
your sin serves to feed them their spin.
If you had our fears, if we gave you our hopes,
we'd devour ourselves from within.
My lips are sewn-
for silence is all I've ever known,
and all I was ever shown-
so to this habit, I too, became prone;
a habit that thrives, though I have grown.
My desires and goals shaded by a heart,
that was once so cold-
and continues to unfold,
and though I am now told-
resentment stays uncontrolled.
For as a child, I was undersold;
to keep it brief-
this soon came to be my belief;
that I was in no way unique-
and affection, unable to receive,
a thought, that still aggrieves-
everything inside of me.
The stories I could tell and having told
of trials which would led thee upon a well worn path
within the skin and to the core the soul
through torrid memories of the long lost past.
I'd speak of Joseph whose passions prompted bliss
of kisses deep within this form of Eve
of baths with gentle hands, where my soul heaved
as fingers traced each mounds earthy contrast.
And so that, days pleasures not bow to nights repasts
I'd share with you a tale of sun baths in rye fields
laying au naturel in hip high grass, as caution yields
to tender taunting's upon an oh so, rigid mast.
Truly, I'd say for bold I am, and never cold,
the naked truth should never be, left undersold.