Next time we meet we'll be dancing.
Callous cancer stole so much,
But not your beauty,
Not your love,
Not your name written in the Book of Life.

Next time we'll be dancing.
We'll have forgotten our tears,
Our anguish,
Our defenceless clenched fists,
Beside the silent plastic bed.

Next time
We'll be too distracted by wonder
To recall any of this.
We'll be too busy dancing.
See on the dance floor, Lorraine.

Look around.
In a very short time
This will be a long time ago.
Your eyes will be full of the present
Your mind will reach
And fail
To recall your passion
Your impulse.
Only the bruises will remain
And the ricochete
Of your man sized dreams
Off hard-won love.

The city spreads
The wild displaced
Some species gone
Without a trace
We move along
At such a pace
We lose our world
This human race

A Trasher sits
Upon a rail
In search of bugs
With flirt of tail
Grey-brown body
Curved blackish beak
He will find
The food he seeks
While he rests
So smooth and sleek
I find the wild
I take a peek
Into a world
Where harshness picks
The hardy ones
In desert sticks
As he peers
With yellow eye
He has his place
Twixt earth and sky


SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/31/2016

I once too was a victim,
A victim of desire..
Luring me in slowly, drowning, in its unquenchable fire..
Thirsty
I needed escape
I realized soon, it was a life, I needed replaced
It was freedom that I needed to taste
To never be fazed
To be in control
To bring back everything that desire had constantly stole
The wrong path that I took, now I wander the netherworld in search of my home
In time I will know
The darkness will be caved by the light at the end of the road
Love will shine, and fear will not prevail anymore
As of now we keep traveling fro
You are never alone, and where ever you roam
Soon we'll all be together, soon we'll cross paths,
Happily we'll live and we'll dine
To never remember the past...

I'm just a shadow
But light always shines brightest
Within the darkness

of wolves through their own pores,
Those who've heard the whispering
of hell behind closed doors.
Those who've tried their mettle
with a blacksmith's blows,
Those who've climbed a thorny trellis
just to find a single rose...

You may have to climb a mountain
10,000 feet tall
And even then the haters hate
and make you feel small
You may have to dig six feet
to find comfort at all...

But there's a solid surface
beneath the muck & mire,
There's a conflagration...
Yes! There is a fire!
Though all seems hopeless
Though it all seems dire
If you ache, it's yours to take
should you so desire...

Though it all seems worthless
a crust of filthy dross
He'll take your hand
You'll understand

The way of the Cross


SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/29/2016