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~~
Don't get me wrong, darling
Because that's exactly, I do not know how to say
However, what goes out of the home
Rivers, Mountains, Sea
Or beyond the horizon, Any call

You don't make a mistake
I'll be back to whom
So, for a moment, don't misunderstand me
That exotic flute, distant Kans grasses
Even from far away:
From the seashore, I have heard the echoes of another time

So don't misunderstand me, darling
They have relationships with, and you are like me
They are not devoid of love
I give you, borrow from them

For a moment, don't misunderstand me
I bring your pearl beneath the sea,
From the mountains the ancient forms,
The original earthy flavour,
A chunk of drifted white clouds from the autumn sky as a little boat

So, you don't misunderstand me
Where 'll I come back
Where 'll sing their song
Where to lose my soul,
Or will not come
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen

*
***

Learning life
Living so much more
The realization
Loving
The Lord
Is NO chore
Despite the turbulence
Of the day
Through His scriptures
I am learning His ways
I finally see
The purpose
He has been teaching me
Through all life's pain
Through His Son Jesus
He has taught me
That even death
Can be great
Gain
*

~~~^♡^~~~


Please sing a song
For woman strong
A daylight reverie
She's moved along
From the madding throng
At last she's finally FREE.

Please lift your voice
You'd have no choice
If you knew this soul
She was a dear
And it was clear
That her spirit's old.

Is it odd she's gone to God?
She was one of few
Who had great wealth
She gave of self
She was born anew

So let us sing
Our praises ring
Of His mercy and His grace
She entered in
Cleansed of her sin

She's in HIS WARM EMBRACE


SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/13/2015
In loving memory of

DONAH SOUTHWICK

My mother's best friend.
My dear friend as well.
She will be missed.

---
---

on a hill stood wicked tree
a single root, branches three

one branch was war
one branch was want
one branch was greed
horrid haunt

its root was pride
its power great
acid soil of perfect hate

its bark like scabs
sulfuric green
a stunted growth
twisted . mean

lichen of ignorance
crusted there
on the north side
of despair

black mushrooms
sprouted from its pores
growing from
starvation's spores

and yet it thrived and gave its fruit
they were put forth by the root

these carried seeds to plant in season
they want it growing for some reason

they plant it lone upon a hill
where it can grow
it's growing
still

it grows from you
it grows from me
we feed that hateful

wicked tree


soulsurvivor
rewritten
(c) 6/13/2015
first draft 2014
when will we water
LOVE
?

---
 Jun 2015 Jason Cole
Liam
outlined in shades of reality
replete with eclipsed potential
the morning moon in revelation
unaware of her ageless touch

the language of time is floral
the color of anachronism is sage
so asymmetric in its beauty
so linear in its dictates

but her silhouette defies projection
refracting moments into mosaics
collaging aspirations into awareness
as dreams clarify into appreciation
 Jun 2015 Jason Cole
Cecil Miller
You're not a Golden Boy,
And you never were meant to be.
You are a force of desperation,
Seeking salvation.
You live to be free.
That is the reason why
You may forever be bound
To the saviors of the Underground.

You were a bit of a child.
The world was having its way with you.
You tried to make a declaration,
A revelation,
Some celebration.
You tried some chemical shock.
As a dried leaf floats downstream,
It is steryl as an early angel.

You're just a Rolling Roy,
The drifting dust on a beam of sunlight.
You suffer from separation,
By invitation,
And so many things to see.
It is no wonder why
Your golden boy will not be found,
Except by those of the Underground.
This is not a sad poem. It is about how one finds himself, among who seem to be the unlikeliest of people.
It can happen that way sometimes. It means other things, too, but I think I will bask in the accomplishment of what is abstract for a while before giving full disclosure.
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