A cornflower
lavish these
hearts of
gold in
fields will
enchant harvest
with sunshine
in a
row and
foothills dash
plains with
nervy glares
where whitewater
raft in
these rapids
that hallow
river bridge.

Agony of memories shackled in soul
Loss of control

Cult raised isolation bred within youth
Eureka of truth

Abandoned by love own motherhood start
Burden of heart

Maternal disease and death's lengthy fight
Daytime to night

Caring in vain is like tightening rope
Grasping for hope

Sweet child now mortal illness attacked
Mind being racked

No support acquaintance or true friend
Alone till end

Questioning Deity in trial with doubt
Childish I pout

Weakness in battle spirit slowly died
Strength not inside

Broken wondering why His small pawn
Can't carry on

If only there were words
           to the unspoken verses
           when silence is the only sound

           More than only
           near paralyzing torn,
           weary of searching endlessly
           for what cannot be found
           silence whispering poignantly
           drowning out the midnight rain,
          
           There is no more sorrow
           in search of the lost
           unstrummed guitar chords
           Unwritten psalms
           forever left unsung;
           without amity,
           woe betides an unfinished,
           abandoned heart's song

           Only a heart lonely knows,
           there is no absolving darkness
           whispering of screaming silence
           by night and by day:
           "all things must steal away"  
           not to be thought of wanderings end
           as a  velvety-crimson rosebud
           shamelessly withers brown

           Swirling eddies stir
           a black swan of loneliness
           swimming within the flood
           of raven river waters'
           silently eclipsing
           its pitch black flow

           Muted pleas silent as pity
           blowin' in the fleeting windsong,
           speaking in beckoning salutations
           singing in sweetly beseeching tongues

           Like the hush of a pensive soul,
           once touched by another, moved
           like a bedrock marrowed mountain
           left stifled, stranded and wondering,
           feeling an awkward silence
           when the leaves come falling down

           There are no misbegotten promises
           cast lightly in the moonlight’s restless spell;
           there is no solacing stillness
when silence is the only sound...

Breathing in the hot drowsy wind
that then sits, stagnant, in the lungs
of the weary figure (mine own)
and exhaling long, the lazy summer air
as she waited (I sat for hours you know)
for the afternoon to decay
even though time itself seemed to be drugged
slumbering in the African heat.

My insides burn, turn and broil. I feel as if I could burst. I want to do everything. And yet nothing excites me. Im worn from a long day but try as I might sleep doesn't come. Worries of the world stir through my head. I ache, I hurt, I yearn to sleep yet she still doesnt come.
Hunger twists my stomach yet no food fits my mood or apatite. Colors are bright yet bring me no delight or interest. The night wears on and yet I am still not gone. Sleep is the cool water on a burn, the mute on a loud static. The pause, the peace. Sleep is the calm in a life of chaos. Why does she now evade me.
A yawn escapes my lips. Please come. End the pain and suffering of the day. Take it away so in the new day I can wake calm and prepared ( and a little grouchy). I've lost all ability to think and yet I still can't sleep. Another yawn, one step close to the rest, the goodbye to the colors and hello to the hollow darkness where thought carries its own weight and no longer weighs down my head.

Just have a little bit,
To get you through the night.
Just have a little bit,
To be able to see the light.

Your heart is weary,
And your head hurts,
But know in your soul,
That this isn't the worst.

Listen to the advice,
Try your best,
And know that,
Soon the universe will answer those prayers.

Staked
to slate
by ache
and fatigue,
unmoved am i
not a breath
drawn nor exhaled
as the blistering sun
traverses
a merciless sky
like a snail.
I close my eyes
and feel the pulse
i've become,
baked, a beating
continuum.

At the basic stage of learning a language comes pairs of most commonly used antonyms,
words meaning opposites of each other like the earth and the sky,
far away and close by,
love and hate,
metaphorically speaking even you and me.
Except, sky begins right where earth stops,
so if you really think about it only the soles of our feet are truly grounded,
while our heads have always been in the clouds.
Distance is subjective, so depending on how fast a ride is or the resolution of a lens,
sunsets and full moons are that much closer than a lover's touch.
Love and hate are not two sides of the same coin,
or the extreme ends of the same spectrum,
but rather the same side of the same coin,
exuded by the same people at the same people for the same reasons,
interdependent,
coexisting,
one defining the other.
Well, I suppose that leaves you and me.
As in it literally leaves you and me out,
metaphorically speaking,
figuratively speaking,
theoretically speaking,
you and I aren't antonyms after all because,
as it appears we do not define each other or anything in between.
Like the ocean and a bumblebee.
Here I am calm and blissful with sunlight bouncing off of every wave,
dramatic and roaring, heightened with emotions soaring,
bearing an infinity of life, continuously giving, nurturing and upholding,
but all you want is honey;
metaphorically speaking.

i know you're tired
the world got me weary, too


-- Watercolour