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JerrHoll Oct 2014
...from pain, the source of learning, comes
joy a salve
love, a deceiver when in beauty
takes breath away
but,
balm of gilead
as
a kiss on tear-stain'd
face
God and grace synonymous in thought
one, pure source
the other
**gift
My life has been rapidly changing from one of darkness to one of light. Yet, I have learned that my walk in darkness was so unnecessary had I the tools and knowledge to use them.
But then, would I have learned to write? Or think?
Or be...
JerrHoll Oct 2014
See where she has plunged her blade?

I despise you beyond your understanding you heartless *****.
You've stolen only your inheritance and that quick away.
Even so, into my body plunge your blade, ****** it deep and twist!
Here - see what you have killed

The knight's heart beats...never more.
Love is dead but we are forced to live on,
Walking dead,  no joy escapes lips curled in hate.
Bludgeoned soul, crushed strength my hatred alone left.
Of the spirit only vengeance.
One day in death may come peace. But,
this life a living Hell built by what you believe
But not what you are willing to expose.
No, never the truth.
Remember...
In God and His grace - the only salvation.
All else - betrayal.
JerrHoll Oct 2014
Dreams*
I have them it seems after all - nightmares too, but dreams?
     They are such folly.
          The nightmares are far more familiar
          They test my mettle and warn of things familiar and not,
          That would harm or destroy us or
perhaps, just not be.
     Silliness really, these dreams.
Things imagined which can never be,
I prefer the nightmares,
for they are all real, always and vividly
real
               They do not disappoint - like dreams.
JerrHoll Sep 2014
the maelstrom swirling pulls me under and I am weak - current strong and waters deep beckon me to eternal sleep - yet i awake each day for one more try and only the gods can say if i live or die - but live i must 'ere i miss my chance to with the desire of my heart some day to dance
JerrHoll Sep 2014
You have gone - like the cool breeze in more temperate times.

I thirst with the depth of a desert,
     wide and exposed to the sun a thousand years. 
Parched, barren, with no flower of love, no water of life.

My hunger gnaws at the ribs of my soul as I contemplate a life
     devoid of your kiss, 
The taste of you on my lips, like nectar, 
To bless a feast for the gods themselves.

Promethean curse, chained to this desire by day 
Life plucked from my bones by the desolation of my soul! 
At night to burn for your touch, your caress, your life-giving love; 
My flesh restored by the dream only to be pierced by the dawn's light
     as I hear the harpy's cry.

But still, I have hope, 
That the one truth we hold dear even life's only hope, 
May collect our souls and our love thrive. 

Charon's dark curse be broken, and,
In passion fueled by hearts that as one buoy us up, ever up!

To that pinnacle so sweet until over we fall
     into each other's arms - fast asleep!
Somewhat different than my usual style, I too, know love and it's loss and rediscovery.  This piece inspired by one without whose love and compassion, I quite likely would not survive.
JerrHoll Jul 2014
Wounded.  Staring at the gaping hole - shock.
This was not supposed to be that fight, those rounds - from where?

Laughter I hear, carefree cackles of one who never knew
Responsibility, dues and costs, penalties dear.  For whim to be entertained
not wise enough to realize entertained is enslaved.

I hear voices calling my name, telling me to hold on, this wasn't my fault
It was - is.  I chose to think myself wiser, trusting my judgement
Foolish. Now, dying.

I can feel my heartbeat increasing.  I know, less to move it must go faster
thermodynamics even in death must be satisfied.  Why in life we are not all bound by such an equalizer - I'll now never know.

I had a foot, legs - no longer felt yet there. Toes protruding from worn sock. 
All I feel is the burning of the phosphor.

She laughs still, thinking in life her vict'ry but nay, her laughter betrays her
Uncertain, alone, thinking she is in control when truth revealing, 
She controls nothing.

Take what you will and can little idiot. Foolish jester of the court of your own mind.
Be certain in your own supremacy for therein your demise.
And, I smile knowing that if is I who'll laugh at last. As into final slumber I slip
A caress from my Princess, my blade ****** deep into the enemy
And I sleep. No more voices, no laughter, yet I see the amazement

Faces before contorted in mocking humiliation, now stare in disbelief

Reality has hit.
Death alone liberates but man's soul, Christ, his spirit takes.

At last I kneel before my Princess, her hand upon worn pommel upon mine,
Fuller stain'd with the conquered blood, point to foible worn dull from the slash
Her hand brushes the scarred worn face

Eye to eye, though still on my knee I sleep - and breathe my last 
        Her kiss upon my lips unto eternal sleep until called forth again I rise
            To raise my sword again and ****** against the horde unleashed as blood cold
        Runs like river deep in Spring thaw o'erflowing banks from a far land 
laughter cackling on the shore and my curse endure again bared

Poor lost and wicked child.
Your victory my death
My death, your defeat.

For I shall live on forever and your dreams haunt as surely as if I were there
E'en though you deny it

My Princess stands protected again, with raised sword and shield, enveloped by my wing
My breath from her I draw - sweet like honey's kiss - and I sleep in eternal bliss.
Thoughts following a consideration of teenage insolence, a Princess to my heart, and the inevitability of repetition
JerrHoll Jun 2014
Sometimes we rant and rave here for no real value other than the release we think it grants,
A release as real as the ****** everyone seeks.
There is no release in this ether any longer, the words captured and dissected for all to consider, left us limp and wasted - unfulfilled.

The facade created for legalistic cause, show your lifestyle to be rich and full,
all it was is empty halls and vacant thoughts. Desires unfulfilled from the first, your facade.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner on the hoof!
Parties and settings to raise the roof,
False invitation and another deceit
Open the crypt of your own design.

Lay in the linens your deceit bought - rest your head on the silken pillow,
The door closes one last time
And the blade is raised.
Darkly - Kidron flows to its end
Temple on one bank, mount on the other
Dark with the blood of sacrifice
Gethsemane calling.
Inspired by my life's events and 2 Samuel 15
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