Please god
don’t let my heart
become unkind
A soul in black
can absorb
the light
But I’m afraid
to tire out
from giving out
and not getting back
To confuse the black
as all forgotten
If I could wear it black
and still be kind
Don’t let it be
my wish
to harden
For the sake
of my self-
protection
If I could find
the room
in the absence
Don’t let my heart
become unkind
And let your greatest gift
become my lesson
of how
the darkness
absorbs
all light

A
My hatred simmers in a *** on yesterday’s stove. The store was out of what I needed to spice it up and I left my Visa card there. My neck is sore from keeping my chin up. I’ve hung the acid soaked sentences out back where the wind and sun will dry them. I marked a map and programed GPS but somehow I  still managed to get lost. There is no future, only now, and I can’t read the instructions Google won’t translate for me.  I have a dollar bill to keep me fed with manna in the morning and a hamburger at night. There is a screaming fit locked up in a closet in the basement. Resignation looks around and wonders who resigned - It couldn’t have been me.  The dam that won’t release the tears shows signs of cracking at the bottom. The bow that shoots the vengeful arrows has a broken string. Standing tall will only render me a better target. •The pillars that support my worth are festooned with poison ivy. The waves of loss and terror crash and roll but I’ve become a cork.
I float.
                      ljm

                                                            ­      
                                                                ­                                            B
•NOTIFICATIONS•

•M­y hatred simmers in a *** on yesterday’s stove.
•The store was out of what I needed to spice it up and I left my        
   Visa Card there.
•My neck is sore from keeping my chin up.
•I’ve hung the acid soaked sentences out back where the wind and
   the sun will dry them.        
•I marked a map and programed GPS but somehow I still
   managed to get lost
•There is no future, only now, and I can’t read the instructions
   Google won't translate for me.
•I have a dollar bill to keep me fed with manna in the morning and
   a hamburger at night
•There is a screaming fit locked up in a closet in the basement.
•Resignation looks around and wonders who resigned - It couldn’t
   have been me.
•The dam that won’t release the tears shows signs of cracking at the
   bottom
•The bow that shoots the vengeful arrows has a broken string.
•Standing tall will only render me a better target.
•The pillars that support my worth are festooned with poison ivy.
•The waves of loss and terror crash and roll but I’ve become a cork.
•I float.
                           ljm

The future lies before me unwritten
Blank pages begging to be stained with ink
Ink only spills through action, not thinking
The future is unknown, fear springs unbidden
Words choke, action stalls, I’m unforgiven
Dreams plague me then vanish in a blink
The future lies before me unwritten
Blank pages begging to be stained with ink
Daring to take risks, words flow, now written
My tale stains the pages in vivid ink
Life thrives, dreams come true and now I’m smitten
The future lies before me unwritten
Blank pages begging to be stained with ink

Kelly Rose
© December 28, 2017

Despite clouds
Forming-
Falling rain-

Mountain

Grows-
Crumbles-

Slowly

I wander through the evergreens
past stones no longer bearing names
the posy scent of faded blooms
now mingle with the falling rain.
My only company a crow
with beady eye and mourning clothes
aloud he cries into the squall,
this keeper of a thousand souls.
He leads me on to where you lay
in silent slumber all alone
in comfort now I pray you'll be
each stormy night and frosted morn.
The wind now moans its sweet lament
to bow the trees, their heads in shame
as tattered posies turn to dust
among these stones that bear no name.

in this age of vanishing dreams
and crying ghosts
I find myself drawn again and again
an undying connection
to this work of art
so out of time upon its creation
as to be an endless fascination for me
so unlike the artist
this suffering soul
who's immense love and anguish
for the less fortunate
coupled with a talent too immense
for one man
created a burden that weighed upon his shoulders
and his heart like a million captured tears
then once upon a beautiful dream
or perhaps just a clever thought or a baby's smile
a brief respite from the pain
he created the contradiction of his lifetime
as if to say to all that may come to know him
through what history dictates
'You see...I was not crazy!'
and The Smoking Skull
was born

5
                   a
               e      r
           y             s

since I joined hello
a larva with a torn soul
Clinging to Whatever's left of life

since I started scratching for light
Peeking at the  deeming tunnel
but still hoping

since I started dinning with poets
eating haiku in the morning
drinking sonnet in the afternoon
feeling the aching agony of the broken in the evening
falling in love with the dreamers at night

Since my heart was pounded
wrecked and left with unspeakable pain

Since Born was birthed
a crawling character that was literally dying
but still screaming for hope, love and dream

Since Ismael Ibrahim aka Born
stopped existing
and started living