Harsh and bright
the light
shines on us
ever before us
we see the dangers
real and sure
we stumble
buck we toe
catch ourselves
walk again.
the light
it bright
shows all the shadows
inside of us.
the light
has power
will us forward
removing us
from our story
of ourselves
so it can shine
in all those dark spaces
find what we seek
find what we need.
Category: Poetry Corner
Lies
Your eyes dead
Upon a wintry smile.
Cold
Calculated
Is a rosy red mass
Of lies.
Your words hallow.
Just by chance
I turn
I see
You.
Without the mask
Truth Slithers through.
Your eyes they do not lie.
Let Me Vent!
Forget the label see me, see me! See my tears See my fears know I have layers Don't judge me for being weak let me vent; relent! Understand I am allowed to be weak. The truth is never sweet it's sticky it's bitter but it washes away many lies many disasters many tragedies hiding behind a smile. Can you give me grace? can you let me go at a kinder pace?
Cry
It never use to matter you had time to adjust no fuss no rush then a sudden thrust life throws things at you now so many changes so many additions no subtraction no more spring just a slow grind to the next thing, life is so funny you have to laugh then cry for what was.
What Am I meant to learn?
I sit chained to my fear submerged in doubts adrift from my anchor. What am I meant to learn... from the withered flowers from stormy seas a love that don't involve me. I wish I could see ahead to what's meant to be... I search time wasted spent reaching dead ends dead kingdoms bent in destruction spent by impotence... But through I go my story told lessons I must learn to grow.
Live Unto the Lord
live unto the Lord die unto the Lord do everything unto the Lord... for what else is there? you name? it will die with you. your fame? become infamous in a world of grey lies and half truth overshadowing all the good you do. money? hahahaha paper burnt lost stolen thrity pieces of silver scattered in the dust below a hanged man's noose. Sit here my child right at my feet greet me stop being busy pleasing the weak. Come here sit down here is the man with the true crown.
That Feeling…
I am not myself. My heart beats empty echoing like a shell abandoned by the way I sit with myself. My heart soundlessly beats missed steps Time unsynchronised. I lay. I sleep. Do I want to wake? A touch crumbles. Leaving scars in place of resolve. Can I find missing pieces, scattered, to the four seasons? I am not myself. How to get me back?
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