Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
She said 'where you off to now, Tumbleweed"
I said "i got so many places to go,
it might be what i want it might be what i need
it might be the strangers touch ill never know"

its a lonely way to go the road is long you know
i walk the path of troubadours from long ago
the moon she is my light
the sun she is my night
the pen the only compass ive ever known.

Where you off to now, Tumbleweed
you set your course or you just blowin in the breeze
just like ships in darkness pass
too far to touch too close to last
to grow the soul you know you've got to plant a seed
Tumbleweed
(c) 2013 CJM
Don't ask
the echo
to shut up.
        You loose
        the right
        when you yell
        that aloud.
No need to bid,
echo to be quiet,
if you just do
what you ask for.
Adore silence
till light dawns.
"The profusion of sounds is  big distraction, creates mental aberration"
------Sankaracharya(8th cen Asetic and commentator )
I fell into your arms
After tripping over stone cold fact
You held me for a moment until the shock wore off a bit
Giggling warmly at my clumsiness
and I couldn't help but share the laugh
Just then I realized how long it had been
Since someone reminded me to do that
Illusions of grandeur, spoon-fed to the youth.
Blinders cloak their unsuspecting eyes from truths.
The masquerade of the masses,
Misinformation spreads through the classes.

"You can be what you desire to be",
How maniacal can one cliche be?
Kids, it's just that easy.
No effort or self-discipline needed, and all you need is a degree.

Real-life is much stranger than fiction.
The depiction of the world couldn't be more of a mask.
Slough all that you've heard, there will be afflictions.
Or, continue and join the world's soporific masque.
 May 2013 Justin Michael
Julia
When I refused to integrate wretched
"Four letter words" into my vocabulary,
I noticed that Love herself is a "four letter word",
And the dirtiest of them all.
so barren
and bitter the taste of your words
are invading my ramparts
and have become a pestilence on my mind
it whips round and round inside my skull
it grows with each passing hour

you lack the faith in yourself
patience to find your way out
of a trap of your own devising
its a thing
yes difficult to leave behind but its a thing
things can be lost or replaced
people cannot

i will wait for you
because i love you
but i cannot abide that you are
what you have branded yourself
you are brilliant
you are a light in all this darkness
i would not be alive if you hadnt saved me
you are a wonderful and beautiful woman
that has so much to offer

there are symphony's in the silence
there are forests of thoughts
to be had in the space between
when you left and
the waiting for you to come home
come home baby
we are gonna be fine
we just gotta stick together
there are lies we tell ourselfs
to protect ourselfs from what we dont want to face
from things that never see the light of day

there are truths we tell ourselfs
over and over till they loose their power
to persuade a change of course

iv been down many roads
that tho i never would have said out loud
i was terrified every inch of the way
there have been paths that i followed
knowing that i was blinded to the blades arrayed against me
but i never hesitated a single footstep

standing here on the edge with you
looking so fine in your skintight jeans
one breast showing thru the threadbare fabric
and your eyes on fire with all the things your feelin
your words sharp and quick like knives
with all the things your knowing

there are lies we tell ourselfs
to cast aside caution
to throw away reason
and right now im trying to find
those lies to tell  myself
to blind me to all the reasons i  shouldn't follow you
shouldn't leap with you
into the fire below
into the certain death i see
into the darkness you curse
she is a poem is pajamas
an unfinished Picasso fresh from the shower
she is a watercolour painted along the
moments of my day
in bright vibrant colours
running along my thoughts
as fluid as the delicate turns of her laugh
shes not just a woman
shes a universe and a summer day
wrapped in a rose printed dress
shes a intoxicating potion and a carefree laugh
iv never wanted to be anywhere but here
holding her and breathing her
loving her
drinking in her every moment
she is a poem in pajamas
the grave diggers son
rises before the dawn
out into the cold morning
out into the vast fields of the dead
this is not the future he saw
for himself
a farmer of the macabre
he plants them
firmly underground
but nothing grows
nothing good comes of it

this vast architecture of finality
this field of mourning and tears
this cold place of death
a place that others would rather forget
yet they build miles of marble
and years of art
in this quiet foreboding place
afraid if we dont honor the power
that can ****** the
life from us at any time
then perhaps it will come seeking vengeance

the gravediggers son
his hands ache from all the death he must
touch
from all the loss he sees and feels

this is not the life for me
he swears to himself in a whisper
as he has every day for thirty years
i will escape this place
dont plant me in the fields of the dead
Next page