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A long day of shadows--
Never glisten the meadows---
We have chosen the wrong--
Day by day,
We have almost forgotten
that divine song,
Losing the spiritual light of the god---
Moving ourselves in a darkness broad----

I see the sky has grown red crucified--
The spiritual light is being satisfied---
The Satan is being terrified--  
Mother Mary becomes merriment---
That her holy son again removes the darken---
We are wondering again to be unified-
The earth is growing with magnified---

Flowers aroma blowing amour of love
The children singing the reception's song,
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas!!

Angels play divine melody--
Truths coming too merrily--
We are waiting for the light of the prophet (Jesus)
in the darkness of the horizon---
Merry Christmas
In touch with you inner feelings
You create a beautiful world
The charisma of your touch
Will create beautiful ripples
The placid lake of love
Will come alive with the beautiful touch
Genuine touch touches the heart
Creating a lasting impression
A touch that becomes a remembrance
From heart to heart
Touch that cradles with loving hands
That touch etched in memory
Forever, a touch, that inspires
Love and beauty in your touch
 Dec 2014 SweetJacksonFan
Sjr1000
The driver
she wears mascara
the
last remnant of her humaness
she's always been a
little blessed
she's met her death
many times.

You can hear
her coming on
the winds
freight train sounds
through the Jeffrey Pines
this train isn't
Bound for Glory
this train's bound
for eternity
a one way
ticket with
no return.

Though I've always
rooted for reincarnation.

This train
stops for gamblers
midnight ramblers
**** addled ******
addicts caught between
nodding out and cleaning
the refrigerator with a tooth brush.
Even saints on board will stay.

The oblivion express
your going to hop
on board when your
ticket is punched,
the ticket taker
laughs and smiles
his last glimpse
of humaness.

She's the driver
he's the turnstile
they were once
an item
before they were delivered
to their
new careers
never to see each
other again
except through the
glass of her engine.

The fire is stoked
the express becomes
a local
stopping for each
and every
daily passenger
you can hear that
whistle blow.

You don't know where you're
headed
you just know
you gotta go.
Her mascara drips down
her face
you and she
the ticket taker
too
there is no escape
the oblivion express
just around the corner
and
on its way.
Oblivion Express was the back up band for a guitarist, Robin Trower.
Radiant neon white
Migraine lights
Beautifully tortured
Lightning strikes
121314
10w
 Dec 2014 SweetJacksonFan
ryn

       you
               secretly
                       wishing, for
                              your writes to be
                                noticed•simple sign
                             that they have not been
                          missed•with every view
                     and every like•your popu-
               larity does spike•somewhat
          places your art on the poetry
      map•between major players,     
  you close the gap•constantly      
checking to see  who's been              
reading•you're always deli-               
ghted to see the 'yellow                      
lightning'
•a wish...                            
    for those who                             
     are writ-                    
ing      

secretly hope not only for your words to be
reaching far and wide, but also... trending
* the above does not apply to everyone here.
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