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a poet gray Mar 2021
Then what would you call it
I am here,
and sometimes I stumble,
I am adfrift here;
those parts of me that dread the evening,
when the warm dawn fades along
the crest of hours,
I am waiting on Jehovah,
I am making changes in my minds sky
but I ask Jehovah for his breath of wind,
I need him to rearrange the world behind my eyes.
There are all of these days, these shelves
of moments, I will gratefully wait
through the taunting minutes that spit seconds
in my face, I will make the change
I will pray with all of my rivers,
with the branches of every tree, with the heart
that holds a secret from the darkest of dark,
with the world that God is rebuilding, which was given
out of his love, I will pray through that head
where everlasting light resides atop..
That Jehovah God, keep me there waiting in the reflection
of his loving heart. Please keep loving me, Jehovah.
a poet gray May 2020
I feel the tide,

And soak with the name

Arriving, and arriving... Until I give in
to the free water of forever,
dripping from the holiest places
of Grand foot holds yet
Sacred, Sacred, sacred is the same powerful name
a poet gray Apr 2020
There is a hole in the world
All the doors are painted
a shade of liars faces
their colors while arriving
are also fading
but we are still here..
Where corroding slats of
63 year old wood
sound like the screams
echoing across
the crumbling pages of days
burnt yellow beneath the
fire of eyes
The purple pouring through unseen waves in the dusk sky as Janis joplin sang gray star clouds
into my heart
she sewed my wounds
with the ash of
of bodies adrift of lovers
living only in the mirage
air disguised
as smiles everlasting
glass of the
empty kind of love that lies,
and never breathes
yet forever dies
dreams devour you with
tears remembering the terror
in Janis's eyes,
she poured herself out
across the floor of the perishing world
while performing
"work me lord"
"live at stockholm 69'"
to the dark,
we were never there
we were born
into hands that were dying
we breathed our last breath of freedom-
then we were born,
It was then that
I heard the darkness cry.
we are dying..
because we have forgotten
the free gift given,
our lightless bones
loose around the spine
of every bolt we never knew,
strengthened our stance against
the murderous long night.
Choosing blindness,
over looking without sight,
The invisible mountain,
that breathed in our corroding
dusty hearts,
weilding love
against the demons behind
our mirror eyes..
Refusing to call his name..
we have lived for each one of us
just for ourselves  ("selflove")
so it is this then,
we have sold
our freedom
to the lie
named death.
a poet gray Apr 2020
Like an earthquake in a still morning,
When lovers linger half- asleep in
Their lovers keld of electricity,
Their songs, are still alive
I love so many places
that are becoming invisible ...
good day... Light of my sky.
You will not love me again,
As soon as I saw it,
I wrote to you,
with you, I will make my people, our people;
I was transported to the world,
in the wind, hidden Below the flowers out of the rock.  
in the deepest pools of trees.
The Lyraeon in the Valley.
The eagle,is an ancient warrior eagle,
Outside of worlds
and before the numbers,
He soared unwatchable
In the sempiternal hands of god.
I am with you, still my son.
between our bodies are "Hundred fields" galaxies,
  thirsty  with waves of death,
flourishing in old age ,
Even now, long before the coming day
before the coming of the day of days.
When the sun has appointed
more black to the seas level ;
And the rain will be swallowed up by the sky,
... rain, wind and silent colors an adagio in b minor played upon
A cello of storms...
Old, old,elder storms
that hold to their violence
Yet, the killing;
Is an agonizing death,
Here On the landless planet,
Where I am the only island,
Adrift because, I can not forget ,
Until I am nothing,
I will live for a very slight, if.
I will continue,
throwing stones of fire
At the pages of reality
That won't even sound like raindrops
On the windows of minutes
from the walls That hinder the light of the Spirit;
Laughing you to sleep,
Dreams do not say goodbye.
the air and resentment
and the cold are the killers
crushing teeth of concrete winters
  Apr 2020 a poet gray
The gift
Is life
If we
could only see
maybe we
would all
be freed
The gift
Is life
If only
we could
a poet gray Mar 2020
These are the things often only heard in
Dreams, these are the unseen,
These are the songs of those who ride
On waves of wind without wings
I love you,
Love like there were never any stars.
when time was ours,
The tides of eager rushing
Blood pressing its way through
Our veins, oh oh they roar
The great stars name!
Oh what glorious light!
How it's holds the day
Like a beat in its heart.
I hope you know
I wanted you for life
Even though home,
is where, you won't come.
So now the days just die,
And life just falls from the clock,
The clouds grow thicker,
And it is my sickened heart
That withers under the pressure
of its own beating,
the quietus revealing an unfamiliar reasoning,
its pummeling force
tumbling down the vacant isles
behind my souls own cage,
of bones, of flesh,
soaked and staind with
and the deep from the blue ,
wearily sleeps within
the storms womb waiting
to roar apart from the mind,
then it will be done,
i will only be
adrift, among embers and carcasses,
of steel and brick,
a city falling,
it's shattered windows,
awake where the end
goes forward with time,
windows give only
height to the sight of their reach;
a path as jagged and daunting as
its lightning's spine,
the fingertips, as well the vine,

— The End —