Saw it coming
Started running
Through the woods
As fast as I could
Evil in the mist
Making sinister hiss
Sound
Translating freedom 'going down'
Beautiful mirage arrived
No fear of going to die
Equipped with answers
From club dancers
Chit chatting away
Screaming about pay
"Ammunition I will fire
Since you seemed to of tired
Do not fear
I have a long neck beer "
Siren made clear
I watched her work
Popped the bubbly cork
After expressing wedding vows
Complementing our moonlight howls
first impressions last longer
lost in the sands of times
last impressions lives forever
penned in mind's of men
treasured in the rhymes of mines
engraved in the tombs pains
inscribed in the palms of history
tattooed in the art of fame
last impressions
edit
first impressions
last impressions
uneditable
end justifies
the means.
puncture foes fears
broken into pieces of tears
guys we want 'd' dough
but we won't weigh the load
of tomorrow's cold
as in pains unfolds
cuffs round necks
laced
silver on tooth
blinks
all for the money
one for the dough
few for the penny
no selections tracks
all non perfections
these impressions
cold
cos' I know
I don't know
they live forever
but I won't
am done
even when am gone
Cos' I know if I did been given this
chance again I know I will live
a clean slate
but this impressions last
sure haunted my cast
even in my grave forever
Am gone
5/29/2020
Why
And why now?
I can't believe I had told myself you had changed
Defending you, against everyone
Who told me it would end up this way
Angry
So angry that the walls we built still stand
And we raised the sails and set the ship to sail once more
But the wreckage was still there
From stormy tides that dragged me down into the depths of sea
You managed to swim away from the wreck
Only for the waves to wash you back up to my shores
So here we are again
I allowed the vessel to be carried out once more
Made strong with my hope
That it could make to shore
But I still had dreams at night
Of again when the storm would rage on
Rage against us,
Rage against me
I thought these stormy seas were much farther away
But I feel the first drop of rain
And if this boat too were to sink
Would you carry out of me out of wreckage
Or once again find a new barge to break
As my body drifts across the ocean
I wake up to a recurrent vision-
This emergent self belongs
To body, spirit, and dream.
A different kind of measurement
Lies at the gates of unchosen.
I float a ready channel of grace
Within the airy sighs of the pages
In the book of blank letters,
Where immersion feels fluid
To the lovely bones, adroit
And counted in their flight.
I stand disorderly to the mouth
That speaks me in foul love
And I lay my brains for you
To pick and ravish at length
Once, twice, until you are in,
Watching, curious to grasp
The various skins I shed into you.
No need to pull at my flesh
For answers and stamina.
I can always surrender to the narratives
Of you, only to leave you buried
In layers of uncut, heavy storiness.
Poets have a greater capacity
to express love and longing
painting pictures of passion's pleasures
They excite and ignite the imagination
That's the beauty of being a poet
Poets are so steeped in the need for beauty in wording
that they use their talents even in posts
Weaving wonder with words
they make you believe
you are above and beyond
the realm of mere mortals
you heart sings and takes wings
feeling affirmed, your needs confirmed
by those special terms of endearment
until you read
the self same expressions elsewhere
bubble bursting despair
then you bleed
That's the downside of being a poet
You lose a bit of your honesty....
What about me?
I have to rush to classes in twenty minutes, but this just had to be said and couldn't wait at all....No pics to go with it....No editing...so please...don't censure.
Writing a masterpiece
Takes so much effort and thought
My mind’s settling in my comfort zone – feed me with flawless peace
Words seem to escape me…my feelings mean naught
Anger molds me in inside and out…I feel insecure again
Peace barely meets my body
Joy seems to abandon me like an orphan
Faith passed away – it’s buried too far below the debris
Have I lost the race?
Writing a successful book…writing in general
Takes so much confidence and self-control
My mind is stacked up with debt…
Words splinter my tongue – I can’t repair my tarnished soul
Danger is placed in many corners
Happiness is a few blocks away from me
Fearlessness dives into me
Acceptance of who I am – God’s chosen one
Have I won the race?
Have I found His grace?
From the first page I open to the book of life
Written in fluently opulent language of :
A fleeting cloud and crisis-ridden sky
In cries of hues and halos
The milkyway beyond our horizon suspends the moon
That rules the spheres after noon.
And the sun accentuating power of the day
As dawn gives way for the reign of the morn.
The gigantic trees dwarfing the toppling heights
And mighty ones defying the winds
The vast desert and deep valleys from great loft,
Fleeing rocks beside imposing architectural mounts:
Embedded in thick forests and jungle wild and wide
Beneath them silent waters runs deep
And mighty blue ocean rushes and gushes,
Deep red sea furiously fumes at nothing.
The fountains from the heights run, splash, flow
And fall down the drain and plain
All on the pages of unedited nature
Unspoken language that resounds in all the worlds.
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