Some say I live
in a world unpractical,
see all from my own--
as if, any of us ever
truly exit the sanctuary
of self--
We cling to defenses…
periodically stirring
the mortar, pointing
the bricks, strengthening
the walls of safety as
well as enclosure--
As are the temples
of our Gods, each with
his own pagans of choice…
more representative
of personal image than that
of a common Deity--
I reiterate, love cannot
share the same space
as fear—leaving only
conditional tolerance….
Categories:
unpractical, analogy, environment, introspection, philosophy,
Form: Free verse
So tell me was your soul weaved from platinum gold, liquified hot, bold mold when cold.
Tell me was your soul seamed with blindfold string, piece by piece so effortlessly, spiritually free
Oh baby please tell me was your soul dipped in gleam, a bright white light beam, directly into your bloodstream
Don’t you see your soul fascinates me,
So old, uncontrolled water mold, where’s the threshold, how do I unfold all that you behold
So my soul is so full of grieve, qunderachieved, with a heart on my sleeve
What do you see when you perceive me spiritually?
My soul so bold, not dipped in gold but aged mold, so old, covered in coal, a dust bowl, Aurora circle
Maybe you can see my soul isn’t half as glistening clean, but still it’s a pretty mean warrior machine, buffering to sheen as I speak... could you trust me
Soulful, is so full, every inch of mineral, drenched gold, covered in steel wool, it’s beautiful, are we compatible, maybe my love is magical, or unfathomable, let’s not make this tragical, to be honest I’m a bit radical, maybe a bit unpractical,
But tell me was your soul weaved with platinum gold, liquified hot, bold mold when cold?
Categories:
unpractical, beauty, crush, love, relationship,
Form: Verse
There`s a rose garden I planted - unpractical fancy,
I spend my days there lost, bemused and enchanted
Such beauty nurtured and grown is meant to be given
Lest the garden becomes a holding cell, a prison
I was told love tears down barriers and breaks through walls
But the roses keep growing, and no one answers my calls
The garden walls are high and strong; I`ve had enough,
My gardening tools onto the ground silently drop
The red on the roses suddenly seems like dried blood
The earth that gave life to such wonder is just mud
Roses, torture me no more with your splendor
I`m no more your defender, to my bitterness I surrender
The garden`s neglected, flowers and weeds grow wild
The fruit of this love is only thorns and this bastard child
Such beauty nurtured and grown was meant to be given
But the garden became a holding cell, a prison
Categories:
unpractical, love, beauty, beauty, garden,
Form: Quatrain
Quick look in from outlook
I'm emphatical, unpractical, rythmatical, grammatical
nightmare
I sware my approach is not tactical.
My sentences run on like spyware
Born with the gift to share
At a certain age I lost faith in redemption
And thought I could judge what's fair
Wanted to leave without my wisdom mentioned
One thing about this life I'm in
Their no way out of divine infliction
Just a pad And a pen
And another individual is truths reflection.
The simple is the loudest lie
How can you be Christian
When the book is ambellished inaccurate and ghost
written
No more than metaphor of the
Life it made and set stage to make slaves
Wake up or put me down
What I can't see. U dream about
I can't be the worlds smiling clown
For a country of hurt men undevoute who want change
but wont be singled out
Like children just silently pout
Do as their told and taught
Now the word will come about
And purchased souls corporate bought
Will be worthless having know truth only clout
Categories:
unpractical, artmetaphor,
Form: I do not know?