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Virtue Aug 2016
Some people make me feel heavy...
They carry their woes chained to the past --
Eyes low, downcast.
Stressing each breath as though it were their last.
And I wonder how long it takes to be comfortable with the weight of dead dreams.
How do they walk around
With the burden of unburied bones on their backs?
Held by conditions of the mind.
Burdened by the size of their gravitas
And they’re falling...
Into themselves crushed by the weight of their own contentment.
That fatal attraction to complacency --
A gravity to destruction --
A psyche made of black holes.
Their thoughts are collapsing
When their microcosms meet reality
Imploding delusions radiating that hopeless flare.
A signal for help.
The meltdown, a mental Chernobyl.
I’m just waiting to for them to blow up praying there won’t be any casualties.
Blow up
Inflated egos with hot air
And dead works
As they babble on in Babylon
Spoon fed trash.
Faith has no room to operate in a mind of science.
What is hope when proof dictates belief?
So they have erected Babel’s Tower in their hearts
And loan themselves to a system of debt.
Invest their golden years as sacrificial time
Traded for the wisdom that opened the door to death.
If the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge,
Then knowledge without fear is the beginning of pride.
That monster...
Shadow of “I am...
That stands in the light of the court proclaiming his dominance as the reigning king.
Adamant to follow in the footsteps Adam went.
The way they lean to their own understanding
Until their spines break under the weight of their egos
Teetering over the tightrope’s edge.
The fall of the fallen is written in their genes
Ironed by the conditioned mind.
The crease, a solid line between right and wrong
They attempt to re-appropriate with the folds of personal truths.
Dry cleaned to a false sense of purity
Marks that won’t quite come out
Stain the fabrics of time.
Their morality is a matter of opinion.
The cross they bare crushes with neglected facts hidden in plain sight.
They embrace fantasies like pillows of bubbles
Alarmed when their resting place pops under uncertainty.
And they’re falling...
In the depths of a dream scared to wake
Drowning in their subconscious.
So heavy are the lungs
With the labor of life.
So heavy are their eyes
With the labor of attention.
Though winged like eagles
They have traded flight for earthly pleasures.
Lowered their sights from heavenly castles
To these fleeting natural treasures.
Regal royalty out of place from their thrones
Bowing prostrate before rulers with no measure.
Give them an inch
Now they must slave on their feet
To the yard they ***** pyramids for miles and miles and miles.
Standard measures for standard living
When they choose to cover their world
In darkness' cold blanket
And invite the warmth of temptation into their beds
Sleeping with the enemy unable to satiate
The Deadly Seven.
Carnal lusts mixed with greed
It’s in gluttony they trust
Envy to spurn ambitions
Too slothful to accept the mission
So they whisper a prayer full of doubt hoping he’ll listen
Ignited by wrath at the answers condition.
They point a finger up at He
Puffed up pride with the audacity
To curse His name - ****** bitter blasphemy.
It’s on his children they blame
The disposition of their fortune
Not realizing those without these familial ties
Are all out cutting deals with lady luck.
Many are bound to get stuck.
Meanwhile I sit on Cloud 9
Tracing silver linings in dark skies
Wishing I could rend the firmament to show them heaven is but a thought away.
To believe is the only way
I know to escape this purgatory
Called life.
One must learn to flow with the wind like a leaf
To move with His perfect will guided by invisible hands.
If these heavy souls could but release the reigns
And give him a little control.
Remember the authority placed in them…
Let Him shoulder their burdens.
Their steps will no longer carry the weight of oppression.
They would remember their wings to fly.
They would remember just how light it feels to be
Virtue Aug 2016
She sits with me in darkness
Exhaling miasma in my lungs.
The clock ticks within my pockets.
Poison leaking from my tongue.

Still she sits with me in darkness
Holding tightly to my shame.
Silence of the lamb, so heartless
The shepherd has forgot my name.

So she sits with me in darkness
Preying on my pain.
The antithesis of a goddess
This demon dwells within my brain.

Still she sits with me in darkness
Her identity is clear.
Dear failure’s main accomplice
And her name is Lady Fear.
Virtue Aug 2016
I meant it to be
A beautiful moment
Now punctuated
By wet apostrophes.
My possessive nature hangs on high
Claiming accountability
For the balance of these events.
The credit of her salted raindrops
Deposited in my heart’s ocean
Is a debit of worry
In our joint account of emotion.

But I know…
The morning was still
But my blood raced.
I placed kisses
On her window sills
As she opens the gates of her face.
To meet her gaze
For accepted entrance
To the garden of Eden.
Though her rivers were flowing
My ark was a rubber tree
So we forced the dam open
Which caused a flood of memories
To rush her veins.
She turned Eve recalling Adam’s selfish lust
In my eyes
And locked up.
Never expecting that I’d cause
The chains of her past to bind her so painfully
I stopped.

But I know…
How she blankets herself
In the wounds
He inflicted.
Like a burn victim
Feigning strength
When every move hurts.
I offered to be a brick house
Wherein she can be glass.
A fragile rainstorm
With cries of thunder.
Though she’s the one apologizing
I’m the one that feels at fault
As I wipe the tears that threaten to stain her pillow.
I wash the burning desire for her cavity
Out of my soul.
This sweet tooth
Has crumbled our rites of passion.
So in my love, I’ll abstain
From hurting her again
To soothe the pain
She holds firm in her brain.
A poem about an intimate encounter I experienced.
Virtue Aug 2016
There was a time that I'd forgotten
when the days were dark and blue.
Trapped within the crayon box
I wished for brighter hues.

Wrestled in a wrapper
I was labeled by my shade.
Treated like the outcast
Melting in their cheap parade.

I watched my morals bleed
Tainted as the colors blend.
Murky pools of semblance
Stiff and rigid afraid to bend.

"Do it like the others,"
The instructions that they said
Sinking in the sea of masses
Afraid to lead thus I was led.

I was the crayon soldier.
They knew me by my lines
Drawn by my integrity
Sharpened by my mind.

I feared they'd never see
The depth of my true worth.
For they only saw the color
That I've donned since my first birth.

I've learned to brush aside
The bitter darker energy.
Colored outside the lines.
Embraced my creativity.

Unwound my paper wrapper
Took my first free breath.
Learned to have real laughter
Plotted out my future steps.

Now I create life on a page
Giving peace to aching hearts.
This crayon has left the box -
Share my truths within my art.

— The End —