Glory Oct 2018
My life is full of
Perhaps, one day's
And small dreams
Of someday's

Switching between
Countless maybe's
And simple songs of
Busy lately's

Never quite ready
For fearless okay's
And nostalgia for
Crazy 'those days'
Glory Oct 2018
They said you swore and fought,
For not one side but all.
They said your voice sounded and smelt,
Like smoke and alcohol.
Twisting and curling around,
Every broken letter and syllable.
They wanted to remember,
Back when you held them near.
Loved without reason and,
Wanted without wear and tear.
But like I always knew,
This was you,
Without veil and crown,
Unhidden, unhinged…
Our mother.
  Sep 2018 Glory
tell me the story of the fawn,
white-spotted, damp-eyed,
lying still on the roadside;
how the forest mourned for days,
twisting and churning its leaves
against the ashen sky.
tell me the story of tragedy,
wind beneath the wings of Icarus
on his journey to the sun;
how he closed his eyes and smiled,
basking in freedom’s warmth
before plummeting back to earth.
tell me the story of youth,
wild and tender, dancing barefoot
as though we were made of nothing
less than bruises and blackberry wine;
how I'd let love destroy me,
the car
if it meant dying in your arms.
Glory Aug 2018
Twirling umbrella's,
The drip of light rain.
Strolling beneath angel's tears,
I let the world slip away,
And feel every ridge,
and smooth straight,
of this unknown soul within me.
Glory Aug 2018
Became a glisten of moonlight she did...
So in love with its pale complexion.
Her face wept under the sun.
Her heart became obsessed with that
                                                 silver darkness.
Until she slipped into a trance.
       Forever twirling the moonlight dance.
  Aug 2018 Glory
Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
  Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
  But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
  Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
  And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
  If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
  And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
  And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
  And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
  To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
  Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
  Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
  If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
  With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
  And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
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