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ashley-wade-parkerPoems
buried behind a wall of complacency my contentment boils -- steams like pots of cleansing tea-- in the constant cold pass the peace pipe over the bones of my enemies. my rebellion is rooted deep within my veins                                        {burried under tact and sweet smiles}  but ready to return the blood of warrior women waiting to return runs within me- my abilities are their evolution from the color of my eyes to my tolerance for pain-- rooted into my skullspinesoul in a field of dinosaur bones- only the strong survive the cold this ever present frost follows me like the windigo; its return deep in the decemberjanuaryfebuary ache of my bones a disease malignant in the deep r               u n n        i         n             g tap-roots of elms-  etched into time like                skeletons in the ice tested {thawing} with every return of this ******* season, evolving from the lifeless bones of trees to the wings of birds brittle, but strong; bundled with love(hate) protecting me from the cold letting go, but wanting them to fall back like cigarette ashes in the wind this is no place or time in my life for slow acceptance but I find safety in the muscle bound bones aware, lying (insomniac), waiting for someone to breathe life into the marrow. my love- deep, engrained, rooted the pulse of human heat keeping me from the cold will I ever change? bundled against the cold, the cracking of my bones is like the creaking of the dead trees i stare up at with their songs of change and the end of fears never to thaw out again
0
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
pass the peace pipe
buried behind a wall of complacency my contentment boils -- steams like pots of cleansing tea-- in the constant cold pass the peace pipe over the bones of my enemies. my rebellion is rooted deep within my veins                                        {burried under tact and sweet smiles}  but ready to return the blood of warrior women waiting to return runs within me- my abilities are their evolution from the color of my eyes to my tolerance for pain-- rooted into my skullspinesoul in a field of dinosaur bones- only the strong survive the cold this ever present frost follows me like the windigo; its return deep in the decemberjanuaryfebuary ache of my bones a disease malignant in the deep r               u n n        i         n             g tap-roots of elms-  etched into time like                skeletons in the ice tested {thawing} with every return of this ******* season, evolving from the lifeless bones of trees to the wings of birds brittle, but strong; bundled with love(hate) protecting me from the cold letting go, but wanting them to fall back like cigarette ashes in the wind this is no place or time in my life for slow acceptance but I find safety in the muscle bound bones aware, lying (insomniac), waiting for someone to breathe life into the marrow. my love- deep, engrained, rooted the pulse of human heat keeping me from the cold will I ever change? bundled against the cold, the cracking of my bones is like the creaking of the dead trees i stare up at with their songs of change and the end of fears never to thaw out again
This was something I had written after a LONG spirit trip, too much Johnny Cash, and whiskey with a bit of remolding.
ashley-wade-parker
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ashley-wade-parker
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
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