CHIMES AND VIBRATIONS[[[[[]]]]]]
came from strange places...
IM EITHER BLIND OR SIMPLY CANNOT SEE BECAUSE OF THE ABSENCE OF LIGHT.. I CANNOT MOVE
voices and echoes)))))))))))))))))))))))))
SPEAK TO EACHOTHER IN STRANGE FRIGHTENING TONES..
my ears search for a solace of something familiar...
AND THEN I HEARD THE SCREAMING CRY OF ANOTHER PERSON..
he yelled "please stop!!!!!" and begged for his life..
THE NIGHTMARE REALLY STARTS FOR ME WHEN HE STOPS SCREAMING..
my heart raced and i could hear its familiar beat..
THE VOICES WERE RIGHT OVER ME NOW..
i tried not to breathe or make a sound..
BUT THE MORE I TRIED THE LOUDER THE VOICES WERE..
and then the silence came...
I HEARD STRANGE FOOTSTEPS WALK AWAY..
and then a door of light appeared as three figures walked on out..
Feeling isolated, had to check my pride.
So I walk on thin ice. I run on adrenaline.
I can be nice. I can be a gentleman.
I'm prone to sin: since the beginning.
Snooze you lose- so I'm always winning.
Insomnia- my head is always spinning.
Like a bottle: faster than a shuttle.
Try to shut-all the demons out
but it's creeping in- so I'm filled doubt.
Now where do I go?
Things are moving slow- scattered- like a dry scalp with dandruff snow.
It'sNow or never: or so I keep saying- intending to leave the past: but I keep staying. I keep straying- from the truth.
So my life's a spoof.
back and forth between reality and a lie- such a hefty plight.
Plane and simple: the flight of this pain has got me feeling jet-lagged- lagging in the spot-light:Pimple.
I see the indent in my cheeky confidence: dimple.
The devil wants to dim all hope of light in my life,
but it shines bright, my egos bruised, but humility runs
I guess I gotta take responsibility.
I fell off- now I'm back on my bike, but I gotta break the cycle,
I plan to make history: Michael.
Jackson- if you think this is escapism: I'll be back son,
to break everybody free: Quindon tarver.
My appetite for life is limitless, so I gobble it up: no starving,
but don't you say another 4 months
and then you'll have the harvest
I come floating to you Mother, dead on the river, body bullet ridden: this is how God reaps His harvest of faith.
See, those columns that support the sky now, carried once the roof of our temple. The fire burning the pyres now carried oblations to our ideals; But we face a jealous God consuming in wrath.
Here I come, un-wreathed, unsung, wet in the tears of the skies, skin carrying scars of resistance, eyes open to the tyranny of faith.
Clutch my hands, let me feel the love that birthed me, one last time before my Spirit moves onward and beyond to the worlds of light.
When I write here of desire
This specific wanting; the how of now,
I am not talking about the tightrope walk of lust,
That pleasant lower belly pull;
A trembling, tugging need.
My wanting right now is for the soft warm crush
Of your hand in mine as we stroll through autumn halls
Bedecked with fallen leaves, the shedding trees
An audience to the resplendence of our love
Which deepens into the season of sleep
With the same inevitability and beauty
As the crispness of the morning
And the birds that heed the calling
Of promised warmth, in another land,
Another space and time.
landing in mind fields
grow like weeds
Water swaying turmoil
Harvesting our love
holding up shields
wanting to give our souls freely
Tending to wounds
The memoirs of agonizing gullibility
Like razor blades to my brain
You take away the pain
Mere words could not explain.
Laughter holds all meaning
To this love lust never fleeting
Repaired damage thriving surely
Through the plains of time