.
Something beyond,
To climb into cloud,
Into the snows of purity,
To touch the rise of sun,
Golden as it bathes us,
To realize all is small
Underneath, and all
Is washed by streams
Of blood from the skies,
To reach the highlands,
Plateaus in the heavens,
This is the only poem,
A great blue mountain,
Something beyond,
For us to climb.
.

staying here in this agony
a ménage with spiders
the same ones that still haunt my father
he brought them home
mother fed them
and now they have infested everything
generations of them
they hitch rides with my bags every time I move.
unwelcome ghosts
they emerge from the cracks in the walls
haunting my nights
they hover during the day
just out of reach
scuttling around in the shadows
avoiding the glare
no one else sees them
they are there just for me
watching
I hear them tapping in the timber
waiting for the shadows to lengthen

is this voluntary
do I get a choice
what are the options

symbiosis is not my choice
spiders are demanding more
now want forever inside my head
there is no mutual benefit
draw is all one way
half life is no life
I choose not to take the pact
surrender my soul
I am more than the spiders tell me
they tell lies
their poison is smoke
they need me more
than I need them
or want them
do I call the exterminators
who do you contract to get rid of the generational pain
the evil that lurks to destroy
heal the expectations of spiders at night
change the DNA
the parts soaked in grief
banish  shadows
live as me without spiders
a parable changed
conversion
I choose conversion

@journeyofdays

Not sinking
But making waves

Not the end
But a brand new start

Not a dead sacrament
But a living parable
Of the grace of God
Of the love of Christ
Of the empowering of the Holy Spirit

Not a "I'll try"
But a "I do"

In the name of the Father
The Son
And the Holy Spirit

AMEN.

As brave as a poet who knows
That this is too important for prose,
Willing to reveal his inner becoming
And patient enough to show
Not tell what He's telling,
Nor too intent on bringing
The thought down to land,
Happy to leave it hovering
Leaving us to understand
That the truth is more often
Found in the hearing
And not available on demand.
So whoever has ears to hear,
Let them hear this Son of Man.

He yelled
Out **** spot
to the freckled boy from next door

and
out **** spot
to his own black labrador

he wolf whistled and cawed
to all the lambs on the moor

yet
he had never seen or thought
of the blindspot in his own eye before

( Song )*

She took the flower that she loved,
Planted him in the burning sun,
A desert formed around and the morning dew,
Were tears the flower cried,
It nearly died.

She took the flower that she loved,
Brought him near, into her house,
Her house was cold and dry, with no light to see,
The flower could not leave,
It nearly died.

She took the flower that she loved,
Found the place where he belonged,
Without walls, in shade of sunshine, where flowers bloom,
In peace they bear no pain,
And rarely die.

In the morning he feels the weight,
The pounding rhythm of the hour,
Where he starts his day
Having to bear the effects of getting such jumbled thoughts
And mixed vain feelings
Where are the answers to the questions that do not wish to have answers?

Inside the scriptures of mind
No thought is second guessed
The reasons of the rhythm stand true
There is something inside of him that moves
* ~A heart he claims to not have *
  The one that lingers and vibrates
At the bottom of the sea
Aligning with the coral shelves
Worrying about whom he's yet to meet
Whom will figure out
That in his heat lies a soul
In his hell lies a prophet
yet to reach potential
   Having to
Push his door open
And burn the envelop that cages him

But he fears
Letting go of this hatred
Would waken the realization
Of how alone he really is
For that hatred
Is what keeps him from cracking
Is what helps him maintain
His make belief life of dark love
But in actuality
It's just clothing on the lonesome truth
Of his scarred
Made of Steele
Lonely Lion Heart

-fir.m

.
Lovers reconcile  .  .  .
Making love in yellow fields,
  .  .  .  Joys in mustard seed.