Maybe I should have picked up my phone
And just called
Instead of thinking about you
from time to time,
As if you were not already
Listening,
Waiting to answer.
Sometimes sh*t don’t make any sense,
It’s all about the way it comes across
Or maybe the way that it doesn’t
even leave my head
half the time.
How should I put it,
perhaps,
other heads don’t always
work like mine does.
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 3:09 PM UTC
your flavor is acidic,
sharp & sweet like lemonade,
& we play a symphony
with violin-hearts,
resonate.
you are the moment of rest
between every breath;
you’re there when you’re not,
I’m lost
when you leave.
where dreams and life collide;
leave your weary bones behind
time has it’s own heartbeat;
every gear will turn, in time
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
do you have your wits about you
when you climb into your bed?
do you pray for better days
as you try to clear your head?
we are all the same someway,
i assure you.
though we try to find a way
to ignore the truth.
as the huddled masses gather
and try to find their grace,
they tell of one to saves us,
to take us from this place;
but somehow still the tears, they fall
and they gather by the graves
of the ones that never made it,
introduced to unexpected fate
where have we gone?
where are going?
you can’t it take it from us
please, don’t take it from us.
not this.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 7:47 PM UTC
by the gleam of idols,
governed,
minds’ defied;
no sanctuary
untouched
by their guise
disguising love as god;
a masquerading truth,
entailed with
the cycle
of the moon.
around and around
the shepherds lead
lost souls,
hung on hooks
by fishers of men
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
cerebral collation,
the flesh of gods;
in amiable display
of communion.
communion of worlds.
raptured in a savor
of unity; unbounded
within our ceremony.
to unearth
the creed
of man
and beast.
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
a gathering;
parietal.
upon the hill.
where truth beguiled,
and brightened by
the suns of gods;
crucified...
somehow
outshone by
the light of our skin.
where
the dagger rests,
now sleeping
in the flesh;
the blood of martyrs
was not enough
for the black sky
over Golgotha.
oh father,
forgive us
for we know not what
we do.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 11:51 PM UTC
there is no silence within you;
and still, no place to resonate.
amidst a flash of deja vu,
how could you form
your own escape?
chastised tongues
are bathed in blood;
salt the wounds now,
as she weeps.
the truth rebuked
in sacrifice;
what does it mean
to truly sleep?
the vivid recount,
you’ve been here before
familiar sounds,
foreign allure.
do halted hearts
liberate souls?
is your last breath
even your own?
dreams
dreams of black and gold
remnants of arson;
smoldered coals.
dreams
dreams of severed souls
lavish closets;
empty homes
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
she is precisely
the poem
that I aspire
to write.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 10:43 PM UTC
the world around me is changing,
gaged to see if i keep up.
I tend to think the ground is sinking,
so i’ve buried all my luck.
but gears are shifting,
though it is not time that they must keep;
[but] machinery of dreams
when i should hold the hand of sleep
into a place where no one
could have ever even known
the shades of every color
that now decorate my soul.
the spectrum of the source
now shining through
to make me whole,
I reach beyond dimensions;
make the light into my home.
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 3:16 AM UTC
in what archaic light
might i be made to be seen pure?
when shadows will not taint
the progress of a life reborn
& what projection may impart
the whole of what i truly am?
in what dimension might we see
outside of where the fringes end?
to recognize a truth
how can we say we know it’s path?
when even light may bend and ruse,
deceive the structures of the past.
to awaken any hope,
hold fast to faith in what you know,
but even that is made like sand
elapsed, with no hands made to hold
unbound by words or thoughts alone,
the spirit flies above the sea
& language foreign to the earth,
can somehow now make sense to me.
the ancient life, known before birth,
the way we were before;
is somehow still a flick'ring flame
that burns forevermore.
so cast your burdens to the wind
that carries our hearts home.
a vast new force from deep within
has overturned all stones.
within the currents,
all encompassed progress, not our own.
as galaxies may shift,
so may all hearts become one home.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC