of do a lord hath laid an egg
and deeds have gathered up in tombs
seeking rewards and justifications
only leaves the lord listening
to
gnawing teeth of bugs of
blowfly
drawn by rotting flesh
and gases to pupal teeth
young maggot feasting on
a darkening wood moving
thresh;
here
remains his last words
left without
a bit of sense
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 9:16 PM UTC
Near the raging valley and storm-lit low land
Where trees twist and rivers climb
With hands wet and withered by sand
I seal a footprint in the salty brine.
On an unknown morning with ropes coiled
With knots undone and sheet-lines free
As the main-sail fills with a single sweet breath
A far away sigh heralds forth an anointed plea
And thrice I hear a call: “To Eternity,
Eternity, Eternity.”
On a sojourn beyond this heavy gale
To an invite written in the ink of love
My soul slips quietly on the uncharted sea
Heeling on the whisperings of mercy
Taking flight to a new found fate
Moving silently as tides rise freely
Where an unsoiled spirit awaits
By the light which foils the last sky
I thrice hear the call: “To Eternity, Eternity,
Eternity”
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 1:41 PM UTC
Believing is pushing on a string,
Bending notes you cannot hear,
Mailing a love letter without postage,
Awaking on time without a buzz,
Not touching what is to be,
Finding what you are not wishing for,
Going for a ride without steering,
Standing on a speeding handlebar,
If not for believing you could only feel.
Your way through every moment you are living.
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 1:28 PM UTC