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pilgrims Jul 2019
Oops,
I've sprung a leak.
Eyes stare on in disbelief
while the soul seeps; loose fluids leave.
The high is passed the peak.
Senses ascend to heaven and hear Myself speak.
The body is numb.
Arriving
to find passion is gone.
Self-destruction to atone.
pilgrims Jul 2019
My murky heart is once more stained
and I'm done
like suicide.
I’m prepared to die
but I won’t turn a blind eye.
This world needs love,
already so much pain. People cannot help
but harm for their own gain.
As I look on I'm consumed
with rage.

Sapped.
Energy subsumed by enemies
who would make a fool out of love.
Who would make a fool out of love?
Why do I feel insane?
Inane doubt. Weak.
There are those who seek borrowed strength
but I’m straining. Breaking the bank.

Busting the cage.
Addressing a blank page.
Writing a future for you and me
so children can handle the horrors of living.
It starts with forgiving.
pilgrims Jul 2019
A body is sovereignty.
Everybody is their own king.
Every good king has council.
I am king and my friends are sagacious.
As proud as I am to be
KING
I am much more honored to receive guidance of grand magnitude.
As for the council I give, I say unto my friends:
If you find any essence of good in me squeeze out every last drop.

Use is ecstasy.
pilgrims Jul 2019
O, shapeshifter reveal your truths which have no shape.

O, beast of all beasts: soaring swimming running hopping,
feathered furred scaled shrouded,
naked.
Claws reach for a submerged feast. Tail wriggling, caught by the sky.
Smooth skin hidden by design gracefully opens. Extending,
snatches a meal mid-flight.
Muscle meeting by chance, tooth taking sustenance. Ragged breathe torn
from one body to be worn by the next.
Highly sophisticated eyes become a snack.
Division ceases.

O, reveler!
O, peace in chaos!
O, pleasant reminder of romp!
O, devourer of the devoid,
shaping reality by way of playful lovers!
pilgrims Jul 2019
Take me to the altar and do as you please.
Even on my knees
I can love you as the man I am.
If you alter my person plan to pay fees.
Blood lines down my back
each a token of luck.
The purpose of this poem
is ruckus and ****
but whenever I get close
I think of the people I've ******
up.
My past closes in faster
to the brim of sin.
I can't last as a pastor.
Casting my eyes while preaching some line.
It's culture's downfall as I bind and entwine.
We are powerless to escape our nature in kind.
Pray to a fate blurred
then unearth what we find.
pilgrims Jul 2019
When my sun is hidden, I must rely upon on my moon’s shine.
When my chakra is askew, I must realign.
Learning the things I already knew.
They flew over my head
cause I’m cuckoo.
pilgrims Jul 2019
Wistfully,
I wish I was watching the world from above
on a white flying fortress floating far away from the fauna
and the fickle fools who fight for nothing. Their efforts are fruitless.
Up on my cloud, my cleverness creates cloud-constructs.
These constructs convey to me knowledge both cerebral and celestial.
This sends me higher; to the cosmos.
There, I get caught up in catechisms which force convulsions.
The spinning Sun stares into my silly soul, saying “Such stupidity!”
Scowling, I scorn the stars.
Further still I ascend, astounding the astral plane.
I acquire it all.
And now I know it is
nothing.
Never have my nerves been so wracked.
I weep wildly wishing for when I was waging war
with a woman’s warmth.
Waking up with wet eyes and wounded heart, I stand and walk.
I no longer wonder why.
My oldest poem
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