The unorthodox are the true prophets
for their ways are those of the future,
so in the now, most kings get their head cut off.

But as death is the greatest prophet,
for it never fails to come true,
their martyrdom proves their ways truer than the footsteps of their fathers,
so in the face of adversities;
never be afraid to be a lonely Jesus on the Cross.

Sometimes two hearts write the most beautiful poetry together, completely by accident.

It's one a.m. and one heart can't sleep...........sends a simple message ......I Love You My Heart, not even expecting a reply.  It's one a.m. and that other heart can't sleep either.........replies, I Love You..........

Ah!  one heart replies, I knew I felt you, where in turn the other replies you can feel me anytime, which of course for those of us with a sense of  humor can be taken lot's of ways, both hearts think with a smile.  

The first heart replies, oh yes, always, but sometimes it's as if I can feel your breath on my cheek..........

Like love, know that time lies,
Heart in the day want feel away
Night make world say don't words think.

I'm mind little things light.
Don't long man face look left, right
Tell people need good soul.
Lost sun, hand place hands new pain.
Old inside smile.

Remember full sky,
God hope days cold.
Ill thing live,
tears black leave dreams.

Oh skin, air, gone past lips.
New thoughts can't far white,
Going beautiful dream.
Girl goes deep, your sleep stop.

Hail that lovely laughter juice.

The flying didn't cease, nor did the gravity
but I stayed close to the ground
my mother had told me not to drift too far
but that one time I did
that one time, I,
I tried to stop, I really did
that day I saw the prodigy there was
that wasn't anymore
I saw sanctity gasping for breath
choking on its own emesis
it shouldn't have gotten so drunk on sin
an aura fighting to survive against pretention
hands holding on to a fading faith
slipping like a baby, yet, tripping and trying
my wings set ablaze by the heat of raging insanity

A memory that day was cast forever
A pithy precis comes charging to me

My eyes opened to what I assumed hell
an old man nominally clad in a tattered sheet
pressed a medicinal red cloth against my anguishing wounds
in a hut that barely stood up
hay dripped off its exiguity
drops of water leaked everywhere
but the 4 feet cot that I lay on
the gracing peacock feather near my feet
gave the only colour to my grey eyes

He shivered of his elderly age
that seemed younger than his wrinkles
poverty seemed to have worn him down
but not more than the wickedness around

"My child, are you feeling alright?"

Affrightened and confused by the terra incognita
I merely nodded in affirmation

My eyes looked around to discover a nurturing,
smiling face,
then to a corner with a *** of water
and food meagre for an infant
he took a morsel in a leaf
and presented to me what was left

"This is enough for me my dear,
do you mind finishing the rest,
it is a bit dry,
here, have it with some water instead
now eat well child,
you look like a stick for a girl your age."
then he smiled again,
and walked away
with nothing on his leaf, but the satisfaction of a whole on his face

I looked at the dry bread crumb
moistened by a drop of my tear
trying to force his bites through
I wasn't ready for the hope he shared
my throat was taking bath in ice
his altruism healed my bubble that was burst
this wasn't the insanity that burnt my wings
this was the one that stole a morsel of my love.

I stood stoic as they reeled your cold body in
It was only when I saw that your hair was still wet from your last shower
that I broke down
The coroner said he couldn't get your eyes to close
I said neither could I
Not even when we kissed
The ligature marks around your neck looked
like patterns that danced across your grandmothers hall
as we lay there arm in arm
Your laughter echoed off the walls
you told me how you wanted to be so small
and stare at the ceiling all day
that when you were a child you would fall asleep under your bed look at the marks the wood made
how if you stared long enough
some marks were even faces
or partial eyes
you said that you would never give up on me
well where the **** are you now?
Those covers echoed with the reality of our secrets
weighed down by our burdens
so take your knotted rope
for even in death
you look choked
here we are the same old story
me arguing with the dead
but we both know you visit me
in my dreams with open eyes you never get to sleep any-more
or breathe

I was angry at your blue body
for staring at me open eyed
with the same eyes that told me there was
magic
in life
You are a lie.
such a ******* lie.

Transparency of your soul looks me in the eye
and I can see the weight of the world
breathing possessively
as you whisper why.  
I can read your thoughts better
than I can read your lips
and there is no question
as to what the words mean
delivered.........
with your each and every sigh.

I believe someone told you
the world wears a veiled smile
and attempts
to cling deceptively to your every breath
like a warrior breaks all stillness.
Yet, I see that you are not afraid
to sit and think
about how great men can fall in a moment
when preyed upon...........
by life's unwillingness.

Come with me when your heart aches
from standing in the shadows
of those thoughts
that have been tucked away
in the air you breathe.  
Always remember that our time
waits in a path of sunlight
lying beyond the stillness
that will never fade
from all.........
that we can feel
and see.

Yes, the fingertips of happiness
strum my words
setting fires ablaze
so you can see me looking
into the transparency of your soul.  
Everything is well-defined
even if it seems out of your control
and there is no need to apologize
when the weight of the world
keeps you.....
from feeling whole.