So the clouds are near to me
And to you as well
Although we are not at this time
Standing right here or there beside
How these clouds smile back as they roll by
And tell us both to our surprise
That we are watching and watched over
Since long before we each sought after
That distant star in the summer sky
We are by ourselves and each other
Mere reflections in such skyward eyes
Listen to the howling wind
Not a whisper in the voice of it
An embodiment of all the aimlessness
And the chaos which was once within
This heaving chest
And beating heart
Which is now outside
Cold and lying bitter still
And howling like mother nature had tanned its hide
Listen to such a wind as this
And you will understand what it is
And what it means to be trapped inside such bitterness
As the howling wind does speak of it
Life, ah sweet, beautiful life.
From the sunny days in happy company, joking, laughing, being thankful.
To the rainy days in grey misery, fighting against the wind.
The anxious wind that howls around my ears and bangs on the door of my psyche.
Begs me to let it in, coaxes me to move over and make room.
Sometimes I feel surrounded, it takes all my energy to hold the door.
So I lean my shoulder against the thin, weak portal to depression.
Praying to a God I don't hear to give me strength.
Today the sun is out, warming my skin,
But my bones are still cold.
Crossroads (Spoken Word- Freestyle-Dramatics)
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== Crossroads ==
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Complexities we create
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Insatiable was the menu we served exclusively
The culinary gourmet, marked in Michelin stars
The 5 course preparation of paradise on a dish
The interval of forks, spoons, knives and platters
For I drool it all, still you can’t see the stained print
I reverse the stilled portrait and you stare amused
Tainted as the stringed moonlight crawled unearthed
Take this bulb, for I have smashed it see this bruise
The blooded finger prints, the imprint of fine justice
I breath the freshness of the mist but it evaporates
My mind cascading to the pitted grounded roots
The sun rays blows to blind, its my lidded perspective
The unparalleled horizon casting on glittered aisle
Send them all home, the show is paused,cancelled
Reality is the diverse of confusing notions and illusions
A multiplication of complexities that we have created
The absolute happiness remains a psychological concept
The happen stance of nature entwined with freedom
To exist yet persist and bloom like a yeasted dough
Encircling reputations, reflections to heavy to bury
I come back home to announce a new found hope
A wicked woman told my love, "Kill him and you will be free."
My love paused, and the wicked woman's old twig of a finger pointed off to me.
Love walked to me with tearful eyes, as if she had no choice.
I smiled wryly and told her in the softness of my voice, "Let it be done, and be free.
No sword is long enough to show my love for thee. No dagger, short enough to match my heart's beat.
So please my love, take your choice of my death. Choose what would be fit."
She didn't hesitate, just cry. She, slowly lifting a mirror from the dust.
I don't know why I felt I must, but I wiped the tears away just to savor her touch.
I looked into her sad blue eyes, just for one more glance. Then I shut my own.
I could feel her lift the mirror, this was her chance, let it be known.
A crashing blankness came down on me, soon after the last things I heard.
"I'm moving up, and you're moving down." These were her last words.
I didn't understand them then, but now I think I know.
She will one day be in the warm light, while I'm still stuck in the cold indigo.
I'd always run up the down escalator, like a crazy kid.
She always said, one day I'd trip.
And now I finally did.