In the cusp of closing night, I look into your weary eyes;
once outshining city lights. I see no way to realize
the healing of this blight - I venture to make a phoenix cry.
Remedy of such mythos might, might just prove unjust lies.
Chance restoring your ere vacant sight - fighting soul’s primal guide.
As any chance to restore my bride, binds our fractured lives.

...No words to describe affliction already decided.

My mind emerges from the muck of dream
Sheen of crust and blurry view

In my mind you loom

In my dreams you sing your tune.

Step, clomp, foot, stomp

Off these laces
Pull these wagons
Heft these towers
Lay their power

Dream of vistas green and new
Untouched where?
there I see you

Log cabin of Linking Logs
Cobble our souls and roll them in stones
Heat our hearths and steam our schemes
Give us that leftover dream

But flags wave in every breeze
There is no land for my free

And that farm on the brook
I dream of maintenance
Will fall as quick
into this reapere

to pull the gift of life from dying soil
And play that I can have paradise
on earth

With iron ore
and sweat of toil

I will build a walled garden
to respect the rest
and tell myself

To keep dreaming.

Oh, grant me a new song.
A start again afresh with no regrets song.
One with a bridge to a new accord,
a song with which I can get on board.
Something that strikes a stronger chord
with those who like me
long to be
fully
factory
restored.

A song with a fresher melody
(and I definitely need a different harmony),
something that's part of a wider symphony
maybe with an occasional solo part 
for me.

A song that I get to sing with gusto,
maybe to a slightly quicker tempo,
a step up from my imposed Adagio,
closer to a brisker Allegretto.

Oh Lord,
you see me.
You see that I long to sing.
Can you please
wipe me clean
and write a new song with me.

When life falls apart, remember that only so it may fall back together in place again.

**** me now! I feel no pain
My body is all numb
Do you hear me!

My body is ablaze
Flames reaching to my soul
Burning my internal core

The hell within has woken
Churning the voices
Welcoming the devil

The forces collide
Making my skin burn
Scaling, ripping my tendons

My eyes cries, tears of blood
I bang my head
To let it out

But it has captured me
Within its evil glade
Overpowering for me to bleed

I raise my hands for help
For the heaven to open
And charge on the demons

But the doors, disappeared
Leaving me in a pit of fire
Consuming every bit

Thy sins be forgiven
Our Lord be thy name
Restore me from evil

I wake in an ocean of bliss
Or in an illusion of stream
In my dream,

I am alive....


©sim

Oh Ye Whose Eyes Hold No Soul,
Wandering the Streets for a bit of gold,
Born a Treasure of Pureness and Grace,
Now Reduced, Hollowed by Stranger's Embrace.

When Oh When, Will the Fire Ignite,
The Embers that Burn In the Gaze of Those Sight.
A Savior She Seeks, But There is None,
None in the World, that will rewrite Her Song.

Look up to the Heavens, there She Sees.
That it is there that Her Glory be Redeemed.
She Reaches Out, Unable to Grasp,
She Cries Out, in Hope and Despair.
In Loving Arms, a Savior Came,
One Whose Heart, Covers all Shame.
In His Wings, He Took Her Up,
In His Grace, She Was Restored

Touch the sky with me
and we can fly, fly, fly
away from these places,
wrong faces, all the traces
of the spaces we created
between our lonely hearts
and forgotten minds;
the parts of us that shouldn't exist
crying in their cavernous
pinholes, echoing
and rupturing in feeling
through the waves of something
more, something undeniable
and true. The pinprick
in which my emotions
are contained
is gargling with a blood
that pours black yet,
as it trickles through
me, I can feel it restoring beauty
to the yellowed valleys of my skin.

I know I've poisoned myself,
But if you can raise the dead back to life,
Couldn't you heal me with your word,
And restore me with a touch?

Indeed! All is a sea of flames...*

Her will be done, her kingdom come,
On earth as it is in nature, blessed is her
Only divine beauty. Strong her motherly
Hands which hold you, in being nurtured.
If only the will of what we call love
Could see how we lose control, turn away,
From the actual truth, because we could
Have saved ourself a rainy day.
But in this chaos man will learn, he can't
Be something bigger than the earth,
He can't defend us all from loss
That has existed since the dawn of time,
Always and forever in denial of his pride.