I am a ****
And a *****
And all of those things
That I didn't want to be

I hope you're happy

You made me this way
Then made me ashamed of it
Someday I'll get through that

Render me living,
I have walked, too long
With lurid eyes, of sunken white.
My hollow heart, empty veins
A shade of black, within me:
Colors dark as night.
And the flame I have been kindling,
It too, appears
To want to die

i lived in a time
where the moonlight
was my only sunlight

pleasant-to-be duney minded    sediments of mood-blooming    yet to calcify          light wind and arbor    harbour from record heats          meat fed steaming sun    looming life    bawling upon the venue    hosted with joshing glee    but experimenting with confused bratty states          mottled and strobed    in the brushed shade          for now    a stood peace

Making a living Wage from the living Word
Inevitably shades, obscures, taints and corrupts
Betrays the apparently living Faith
And exalting the Man than the Word

Balaam refused silver and gold in public
But embraced death's wages in secret
Certainly the labourer deserves his dues
But from his Master and not from fellow labourers

If the lives you saved leave you hungry
But for your whip, perhaps they're yet slaves

When I hold her
is like being embraced by a thousand pillows,
    the shade of my room is enough
for me to see
the woman that made me
  write a living poem.
With each touch is gentle,
   with every kiss, divine
her dress smells like home,
   her love takes you back in time
to the moment you felt safe
    to the ******* moment
you felt
safe

The succession of well and woe is constantly occurring
Human life experiences
loneliness
There is no exception
Pain
is someone's constant companion
Pleasure is not for all
Sorrow is true
Contentment is imaginary
It's human nature to day dream about sheer delight
Nobody wants obscurity
In spite of that
darkness is inevitable
But
A glimmer of hope emerges from a cloud
At that very moment
we breathe a sigh of relief.

Sometimes one doesn't emit any shade or tone.We actually see the reflection radiated by the prevailing situation upon one's own aura.

© Spriha Kant

Mindlessly applauding
the torn for choosing right
denies the open weight felt
of them not choosing left

The ripping of blank paper
is heard in your
congratulations and affirmations

Giving pride that isn't yours to hold
remains unknowingly empty
Wrapped well
Recieptless

Let go of optimistic ear muffs
and bright yellow shades

Yeild.

Tugging left turns
misled me to the same stop sign
begging to be dismissed

Lost in a spiral,
in my own left turns,

not abandoned but alone

Despite being desperately sought,
these roads are different in the dark

No comfort or guidance
in this backpack made of bricks
with bricks too sharp for a stuffed bear,
bricks too large for a lamp

Concern and direction
slip through
the cracks and the bricks
in the deafening darkness

Left again,
just one more time

What shades am I wearing,
what muffs are mine
that instruction is muffled,
that care is shaded grey

Even still,
my lefts are my right
my right to make
and to hold
and to keep
and to breathe
and to bleed

Save your pride
and your rosey half-full glasses
Hold your applause
and the promise of a later okay

Acknowledge the bricks
I am carrying now

They are concrete

More so,
than the life you see
that might never live to be