"bountiful" poems
#*Can it love you like God loves you, with a love that is better than life?
Can it connect you to eternal beauty? Can it save you? Can it redeem you?
Can it lift you out of the miry pit? Can it make you clean enough to finally feel acceptable?
Can it delight your soul to the core? Can it take your breath away with its faithfulness to you? Can it paint both sunrise and sunset across the sky to beckon your attention? Can it cause the breeze to blow and gently caress your cheeks? Can it send hummingbirds and wildflowers across your path to romance your heart? Can it parade before you the starry host and call them each by name?
Can it probe you to the depths and fill you with itself?
Can it rush to your aid riding on the wings of the wind?
Can it satisfy your hunger and thirst with bountiful things?
Can it give to you feet like a deer that you might dance upon the heights?
Can it arrange every detail of your life to draw you and drive you to itself?
Can it pursue you with all the resources of the universe?
Can it know you through and through and still desire you?
Can it raise you up and seat you in the heavenly realms and bless you with every spiritual blessing? Can it supply your every need out of its glorious riches? Can its grace be sufficient for you and its mercy help you in your greatest temptation? Can it pour overflowing comfort into you through all of your troubles? Can it reach down to draw you out of deep waters? Can it set you on an unshakable foundation? Can it bound across the mountains to come to your rescue? Can it make you lie down in green pastures and lead you beside still waters?
Can it walk with you through the darkest wilderness and never leave you or forsake you? Can it carry you when you are weak or have fallen? Can it let you rest between its shoulders when you are weary or burdened?
Can it escort you to heaven’s banqueting table
and spread its banner of love over you?
Can it hide you in the shelter of its wing?
Can it be your daily portion and immerse you in the boundlessness of itself?
Can it clothe you in robes of righteousness and garments of salvation?
Can it give to you praise in exchange for mourning?
Can it bestow on you a crown of beauty for ashes?
Can it turn your wailing into dancing?
Can it flood you with peace like a river?
Can it fill your heart with joy in the worst of afflictions?
Can it know the way to lead you home?
Can it refine you in its fire and bring you forth as gold?
Can it capture you fully even as it sets you fully free?
Can it ever truly be your Everything?*#
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 12:47 PM UTC
Body of ocean, milk and sky,
We are tangled in the hope of night.
The lips of the milky way, creaming us,
Stains and is **** with a taste keening;
All is creation. My meteors crash
Into your ruptured Earth. I flame
Upon your must and moisted furrows
And my toes are locked, rooted in yours.
Body of ocean, milk and sky,
In the deserts of the day you are true
Oasis. The curves and waft of your sands
Seethe and sodden my barren plains,
Are erasing all my wandering memories
Of an endless sky and now your eyes
Are the only stars I know, and your skin;
A sheet that holds the heavens shimmering.
Body of ocean, milk and sky,
Your ******* are the heaving of grasses
And wind, loft and laden in the rounded
Hills, a hoard of ****** bread, bountiful,
Ripe and strange. Your hair is an endless
Savannah, your valleys are gold and honeyed
With milk, seared, filled by my penetrating sun.
In passion we play; low on earth and deep in sky.
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 2:49 PM UTC
Kashmir Delirium
Oh People Of Earth! Thankful are we,
For each act of benevolence shown to us.
Your gilded sweet words describing,
The beauty of Kasmir, land and people.
Mention in books and talks of it's riches,
Naming it the Sweet Paradise Of Earth.
The Lord has been bountiful to Kashmir,
Treasure of resources in every sphere.
To elevate each aspect, our wish for life,
As every acre of this land is worth millions.
Full of treasures and recreational value,
Forestry with grandeur and silvery rivers.
The outside world's view is so limited,
Simple folks living in the lap of rich bounty.
Mentioned in world forums and organizations,
But what of the goal of giving us freedom?
What has The UN established in our name?
To measure the pain and anguish we bear,
At the hands, of our supposed benefactors.
The saviours who has us fractured.
But in reality they train their enforcers,
In the art of creating oceans of tears.
The red blood now hidden in camouflage,
The spent shells now gathered and hidden.
The leaders we are told to elect in electoral shams,
Run publicity kiosks and swell friend lists.
Joint conferences to address personal interests
Dialogues that never address the root issues.
Just the formalities and no sympathy,
For the ones burnt in cruel sadistic reprisals.
The hypocrisy continues deliriously unabated,
More augmentation of the security forces.
For a first hand view of deep hypocrisy,
Walk this land, you know as beautiful.
Religious leaders will teach you political artistry,
Sermons full of ambiguity and guile.
Waywardness and narrow mindedness on display,
Political apologists give great lessons.
Religion and religious ethnicity are tools,
That keep minds and bodies in total check.
Gamesmanship by leaders is the rule of thumb,
As promises are forgotten once office is obtained.
When writing of this succulent beautiful land,
Write of the air, pregnant with sadistic practices.
This land is being stripped of worldly treasures,
And the greatest treasure is mistreated daily.
The best of nation is the inhabitants,
Ignored are the real gems of this beautiful paradise.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
"Over here"...
but nothing.
The scene continues
unabated by my presence.
Plastic smiles and lustful eyes
bountiful but not for me..never me.
In the mirror' s unforgiving gaze
I am unrecognizable
Replaced with a crude rendering
of my previous likeness
fashioned by children
with lumpy imperfect clay.
Silence replaces loving laughter
that used to follow my witty banter.
Silence and stares. Sympathetic stares
tinged with smugness and fear.
"Over here...over here..."
still nothing.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
She is A Queen
She's something special, similar to a candy coated dream.
The God in her will sooth you soul as if you were Listening To the sound of the rushing river Streams
Her spirit Shines brighter than a car's high Beams.
Her love is sweeter than brown sugar
And Me oh my she is Looker
Her big chestnut sultry eyes reveals the beauty of Her soul inside.
I can just smell the aroma of her Shea butter and coconut fragranced skin as it glows due to her internal flame shinning within.
Cocoa Brown is the color of her melanated Bronze complexion.
Man, her smile drives me wild.
That luminous smile, her glorious smile, is as gorgeous as the clouds when she shows her pearly whites.
It brightens my day like a lamp in the darkness of the night.
And her mind Is a secret treasure That only her King Can discover and uncover the bountiful mountains he'll climb.
She's Artistic and Musically Inclined
And at the drop of a dime shell bust out in A poetic rhyme
And her words, Gosh her blissfully profoundly spoken words, will send chills up your spine
She's My own little personal ray of sunshine
Radiating truth and her words are so kind
She's simply divine
She's a peacemaker staying serene
From the inside out she is a beautiful Human being
She's good for your mental hygiene
Kinda like how your body needs protein.
Royalty is embedded in DNA gene
And her crown is made of lustrous flowing locks shining like oil sheen.
She is Royalty, She's My sister from another Mister, She is an Unshaken, Strong, melanized Beautiful Queen.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 12:55 PM UTC
One early morning along the quiet forest floor, a little mushroom popped it's head out of the ground. Looking in wonder, he pushed passed the dead leaves and dirt to reach for sunlight below the canopy.
"STOP!" said the forest. "You have been unruly. We have seen you try to grow with discord and disregard, denying the order. And what are you, alien? Identify as plant or animal!"
The little mushroom responded, "But I only did as you did; made a home. Like the rooted trees pillar in our leafy halls, as the moss nestles among the rocks, or how the birds nest in their hollows, why am I so different? I am both you and me."
The forest inhabitants pondered. In this time the mushroom grew and died. It took too long for the trees and the birds and the moss to agree by the time their fellow forest friend had passed.
The trees, too slow to interrupt, cried out to all, "What have we done?! we may not have thought him as beautiful as the rest of us, but the mushroom was a part of this forest!"
As a parting token, the little fungi grew a network of strands below the trees roots to support them all, feeding and protecting them even in death.
With it's dying breath, it dropped it's spores, to which would grow bountiful among the forest floor, among the trees and the rocks and moss. They had not known it, but the little mushroom was a part of a greater fungi, miles across. It had been there as long as the forest, keeping the trees company since time began, before humans, before us.
Only the trees had the knowledge to understand the little mushroom, but their voices were too quiet, too slow. So the trees let the mushrooms grow in their branches and on their logs to give them a home.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 1:35 PM UTC
There are grapes in my path
This abundant trail
now invisible as if we never were
Here, to pick and preen, salvage and reap
for pleasure and pain
I picked you some flowers,
I baked you a pie,
labors of love
with your own hands
connected to earth.
Breaking backs, and clinging sweat
Under wool, denim, straw, and cotton
Keeping more out than simply the sun
Depleted soil
Exhausted soul
Bursting with juice
Bountiful and hand chosen
And you in a hurry just drive by
Dust in the wind
Skin of clay mud
Day after day,
A boulder among the rows
Hunched in fields
Blistered and callused
Searching for more
Ripe for the picking
Migrants moving
Servitude by season
Benevolent harvest
Handpicked strawberries
By chocolate covered hands
destined from birth
closer to earth.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
Trees (haiku #1)
Tree wood with fire
Nature equips survival
Light, heat, and cooking
-------------------------
Trees (haiku #2)
Leafy beings, green
Wood umbrellas, ancient roots
Growing, reaching sky
-------------------------------
Trees (haiku #3)
Pluck the tender fruit
Motherly branches feed all
Body and soul, blessed
---------------------------------
Trees (haiku #4)
Shelter for our homes
Furniture within our walls
Uses-myriads
--------------------------------
Trees (haiku #5)
Pencils, books, paper
Education thanks to trees
Writing, poetry
-------------------------------
Trees (haiku #6)
Trees crafted, songs sung
Guitars, violins, harps-more
Wood, melodious
---------------------------------
Trees ( haiku #7)
Birds, critters depend
Harmonious relations
Trees magical grace
------------------------------
Trees (haiku #8)
Bountiful beauty
Standing upright or chopped down
More precious than gold
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 7:10 PM UTC
by
rgpage
naked this night on soft satin sheets
his arm ‘round her shoulders, his lover’s head rests
her hair fills his nostrils with a scented bouquet
as fingers explore love’s affectionate quest.
tenderly lips touch in a loving lead
legs interlocking add to the play.
arms then wrap tightly pulling each other in
their hearts beating faster to join in the fray.
her ******* he kisses a sensuous gift,
she feels his love grow with each loving turn.
the curve of her back feels his fondling stroke
to capture this feeling forever they yearn.
his senses now heightened, his love at the ready
to soon to the feast, the more he will miss.
he must gain control and reign himself steady
for her love, her beauty, and her freely offered bliss.
their heart guided souls in lustful play
to their senses’ delivered a bountiful tray.
their love and youth play this night away,
‘til the dawn’s early light brings in a new day.
their lips now swollen, bruised, and red
hearts full of love, love’s watershed.
the fast night’s hours have swept past their bed
‘til night ties are severed with the sun in their stead.
as that night flew by so have the years,
his only love has since passed away.
he turns out the light perched next to the chair,
and off to bed slowly ending his day.
their children all gone one by one they’ve all grown,
occasionally stopping by w/ little time to spare.
w/ families and jobs and homes of their own
making the time to show that they care.
even though she’s gone he’s still not alone
he talks to her daily when he is at rest.
even though she’s gone good memories he keeps
God holds the others, and he kept the best…
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 3:12 AM UTC
**squinting up the leaves of the bountiful tree
i espied a mango ripe and soft with goodness
as the sun came gently filtering through
aloft the wings of a little fellow with a long beak
and a brisk song to celebrate dinner found
my feathered visitor hovered above the vintage prize
and as his thirsty proboscis drilled the succulent mango
the warm enticing juice, natural and healthy as ever,
drip-settled in the base of my hungry open eye
i thought i heard a flourish in the triumphant bird-song
such as one at the fall of a big wicket; and
in that slow-motion moment, i knew: the mango was his,
and it'd now be eat and let eat, till the last delectable mango**
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
From the outside he is unfinished and grotesque
A figure conjured up by a devilish intelligence
Out to shock the world with his ghoulish antics
For who could find such glee in such contortion
But as always poor **** sapiens is off the mark
For inside this morbid cask of human digression
Lies a trove of bountiful beauty in aesthetic abandon
The beauty inside the man is the work of a maetsro
Poetry that seizes the imagination is his speciality
And music that arrests even the gods is his forte
So be not hasty to judge what you see before you
Let the scales that blind your inner vision drop off
And there before your newly-tutored eyes
Will lie an essence of such beauty as you can never imagine
Loudly proclaiming the worth of the person inside the shell
And how disability is only a layer that when peeled off
Unveils the inimitable jewel inside in its range and depth
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 3:24 AM UTC
That morning i awoke.
I felt the rising sun.
A glimpse of true restoration,
with kings crying, emperors imploring mercy, world living,
earth within.
The light of the rays
throughout magnificent pieces
of hollow stone.
I'm happy.
I'm happy.
The sun it did shine.
The sunrise, it was beautiful,
sitting in between the vast open crests of the mountains.
The sky's color orange.
The mountains a deep pink.
This view was a sensation of the universal language.
And the best part had to be the sun's
fiery,
multicolored,
rays!
Where the glory of this moment,
this sunrise,
originated.
What a bountiful moment.
It was filled with glory and strength.
The firefly lighting
inescapable and somewhat inexpressive.
Because of this, all insecurities melted away.
There was something comforting about this rise.
It was as if it was a message from God.
It had the energy of a new day.
No, not a new day.
Not another day to wake up.
Not ANOTHER PLAIN DAY!
No, this was a "new day".
The beginning of a new era.
That's what this sunlight told me.
Situations will now explode and dissolve.
In a benevolent way.
It said,
Feel the warmth of the sun.
Let it's warm welcoming waves of light
surround and caress your being.
Feel its care and courage.
Connect and let its power become yours.
Once i connected i no longer reflected.
The time for reflection ended.
And being pushed aside,
the time or immortality began.
The invincible
irresistible,
sensational,
nature of the sun brought a new wave.
The nine waves of the sun,
They touched me on that sunrise.
They touched my heart.
Just as they mixed and breed with
the unusually blue but now pink mountains.
The loving amalgamation of sunrise and environment.
It was truly a spectacle to behold.
This was a true sunrise.
The first true sunrise of my life.
THE SUNRISE OF THE NEW DAY.
MAY YOU SEE IT AS WELL!
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 12:55 PM UTC
Walking through a field,
Bountiful with flowers,
Their aroma caring my senses.
Green grass in plenty,
The sun shining down,
The ultra violet rays lightly touching my skin.
With so much beauty to scan my eyes over,
I’m not entirely sure where to begin,
Within a few steps Im paralyzed.
What I see is absolute bliss,
A single lotus surrounded by wildflowers,
By roses and tulips.
I’m set back by the luck I have to come across this.
Unsure of what do first,
I stand back and gaze at the perfect and breathtaking natural beauty.
Yes there is a few broken leaves,
Yes there is other lotuses in the universe.
However, this lotus has come into my life.
At a time where im walking alone,
Where my mind is flooded by screams.
I decide to take a step closer,
And another,
Then another,
Till finally the lotus is within my reach.
The screams have ended,
In their place is a beautiful song being sung,
Overcame with joy I lean down and smell the lotus,
At that moment im sent through the galaxy,
Witnessing pure amazement,
Simple pleasure,
My heart swells and my throat tightens.
I feel a single tear leaving my eye.
I begin spending moment after moment admiring the lotus,
My eyes transfixed upon it,
I forget im even in a field surrounded by other wild growth.
Then I notice the sunset,
The moonlight shining upon the lotus,
Revealing that within its broken leaves there is light and color.
I’m entranced.
I reach out to touch the lotus
But stop.
I realize I cannot pick this flower for it would stop growing.
Instead I go day after day,
Watering and caring for it.
Watching it grow,
Watching it become more gorgeous by the minute.
With every hour spent my happiness grows.
With every second passing,
It’s my heart I surrender for the lotus to hold.
Several years pass,
Still I visit this magical field,
Still I care for and water the lotus.
Learning patience,
Gaining strength.
This lotus is conforming me into a better man.
I’m growing older now and soon my life will end.
When that time comes I hope to be buried in that flowery field.
Next to the lotus ive surrendered my soul to yield.
With hopes that I can spend forever with it by my side,
Sprouting into something as blissful and breathtaking as the lotus.
To my lotus, for taking my heart.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
What is the versatile autobiography
of this bountiful of rice
boiling in my American kitchen?
This crop of microscopic slabs of grain
that was the one edible source
of preventing my ancestors' emaciation
One of such few things
connecting me
to my roots,
those things I can't help but bleach
in whitewashed and rebellious peroxide.
I will valiantly hang my head down low in shame
at the examples of my flesh and earth,
"those National Geographic cavemen,"
all the time being the zoo animal,
being blindfolded and caged by
these "secular, American liberals."
I love this food
that I consume like a vacuum,
this merengue and bachata
that I so happily shake my *** to;
but nowhere did I sign up
for these commandments
that I was appointed
based on the location
that I popped out onto.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:51 AM UTC
A self confessed dreamer
One that knew no bounds
Can't keep his mind in tether
It's always fleeing from the grounds
He'd always been the dreamer
Picking the shackles of reality
Always hopeful of finding another
A safe haven, an escape, a sanctuary
Madness is thought of this silly little dreamer
Forever bartering reality for a life of fantasy
"He's moonstruck", said one to the other
Obstinate still he chooses to wander free
Alas one day, he stumbled upon a jewel
Glistening, deceivingly within arm's reach
But a beautiful game was played so cruel
Fate wouldn't give easily what it could teach
Glimpses of undefined beauty
Himself drawn closer to this beacon
He craves for this gem so madly
Didn't care for what's to happen
He descended to the surface
One thing he just did realise
That the jewel wasn't in its place
But a reflection of another in the skies
He looked up, he spun and he squinted
Attempting this search he had just begun
For a moment he found himself to be blinded
For the jewel is indeed the sun
He marvels at her beauty
Till his eyes turned red and sore
But he doesn't stop even briefly
For she's the object of his adore
He gazes at his newfound muse
Till the day grew dim and late
When she sets he would hesitate and refuse
To return willingly to his ****** state
Through promise he returns daily
To catch his sun as she would rise
For she fills him with aplenty
And she listens to his forlorn cries
He loves her much as she did him
In each other's magic the two would bask
As time flits by, the day grows dreadfully dim
Too short a time from dawn till dusk
The dreamer waits patiently
As dusk turns to dawn
The dreamer waits painfully
For she will come then she'll be gone
This rise is somewhat special
For his love he had made known
She admits the love is reciprocal
For him her love had also grown
But the dreamer will soon come to realise
Out of reach his sun he can never kiss
Her bountiful love will be the ultimate prize
The prize he can never claim to be fully his
*"Silly little dreamer feeding your childish dreams"
"Silly little dreamer what fanciful notions you make"
"Silly little dreamer you'll be ripped at the seams"
"Silly little dreamer not every heart you just can take"*
He pays no heed to what the others say
He knows his chances run exceedingly slim
He's walking on tightrope that's doomed to fray
But what happens today is what really matters to him
I am that silly little dreamer
Whose feet is never on the ground
I have chosen to live part of my life in wonder
For it is you that I have found
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
Seniors sluggishly step
Trifling tunnels suddenly turn tame
But boredom befalls from bountiful blessings
The lengthy labyrinths lead to a lair of light
However, hazardous hiking harms healthy equipment
Determination among tunnel dwellers dwindles down drastically
Can crawling to the coronation corridor ease the contagious condition?
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 3:00 PM UTC
Grow organic gardens, untainted seeds, saved and collected
plow the dirt, rich red earth, autumn's bountiful birth
food pure and wild, to eat - a way of life!
we cannot thrive in unearthly soils
in their poisonous, GMO field of spoils
awaken from our sleeping denials
autism, sickness born in the chemical fields
all the killing of you and I
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
Every heart
Wants to
Be loved
Unconditionally
However
I’ve come to learn
The key to receive
That love
You crave
For
Is to First
Give it
Without prejudice
We want to
be excepted
In our imperfection
Yet
Refuse to
Love anyone
Or
Anything
We do not deem
Perfect.
Dare
to love
Unconditionally
And watch
Your heart
Reap a bountiful
Harvest
Of
Rich love
And
I
Forever
Promise
You
It
Will worth it
Cheers to love !
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 4:22 PM UTC
I was raised in the wild
With all the defiled
So my mood was mild
While bodies were piled
I was a lonely coyote
The other creatures didn't know me
Because I slinked in the shade
To avoid their detection
Loneliness is what I had to trade
To pass their inspection
Other animals couldn't brave the weather
Or their fragile arteries were severed
They laid there dead
I wondered if they ever lived
It went to my head
What this world can give
I saw the buzzards
Ring their buzzers
Then the maggots fed on their brain
While not understanding their pain
These images did me no good
While I was stuck in the woods
And I couldn't see the forest through the trees
I was lost
If I didn't find a home by winter I would freeze
In the frost
I tried to find a home in hollowed trees
But I was chased out by a bunch of bees
And the darkened caves
Seemed like shallow graves
When that's where bats play
But peaceful open meadows
Left me susceptible to attack
Everything seemed mellow
So I had to watch my back
Winter was approaching
And I saw no solutions
The cold air encroaching
Like frigid pollution
But my shady luck shifted
Once I was graciously gifted
A powerful and majestic horse
That put me on a better course
I ride the steed with a leather saddle
Made of skin stripped off simple cattle
It took the strength of an ox
To hold down this fox
Yet my domestication
Calls for celebration
Because now I live in a house
Without having to hide like a mouse
I can strut like a peacock
With a bird of my flock
It's a form of animal husbandry
Because you're in love with me
I'm the insistent critter
From a different litter
That saw life wither
From damage inner
I was a raccoon digging through the trash
Now I'm a phoenix rising from the ash
You're an agricultural guy
So vultures circle the sky
Looking to harvest your bountiful crop
They must smell death underneath it
Their presence makes my heart drop
And all I want to do is defeat it
But even as they get near
You remain here
We stand together as scarecrows
In a defensively unified paired row
This is the delightful day
You end all my wild ways
And eliminate my suffering
With your animal husbandry
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
i am the wiggling worm
writhing on the slippery sidewalk
on a cold, and dreary,
rainy day.
i weave the baleful boots
yield the pernicious puddles
on a cold, and dreary,
rainy day.
i am pelted by relentless rain
pummeled by its wanton weight
on a cold, and dreary,
rainy day.
you may ask, "why wiggling worm?
why take this cursed course
on a cold, and dreary,
rainy day?
have you no humbled home
have you no able abode
on a cold, and dreary,
rainy day?"
"i am the vivacious vagabond," i reply
"i am admittedly ambulant,
on this cold, and dreary,
rainy day.
because i must agnize affliction
i must debase duress
on this cold, and dreary,
rainy day.
if i am to appreciate the bountiful bloom
i must know the duteous doom
such as this cold, and dreary,
rainy day.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 3:25 PM UTC
As life is created from her womb
Bountiful preparation is needed
Charisma, duty, and love
Develop the best care offered
Ecstatic for recording memorabilia
For such experiences occur only once
Given the opportunity to successfully grow
Home redefines as “elsewhere besides the abode”
Ill from separation
Joy still remains in the love connection
Kept in touch through messages of endearment
Life becomes more heartwarming
Mothers nurture endless dreams
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 1:41 PM UTC
If all you want is things and stuff, you'll find out one day that they're never enough...
If it's love you learn to give and receive, the rewards you find will be bountiful indeed x
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 3:03 AM UTC
You choked on chariots raw. Red egg yolk suppers, churned of the milk oceans this morning you kept.
The lintel of stone turned toward dusk. Some great dynasty of submissive spirits catering your morning
Out on a cart of muse, forms of heaven cannot even hear you. You are a soporific knot in the tale of your Old womanhood. In this infinite Tuesday morning your small black eyes, like an oil tanker toppling over The intense azure sea- shipwrecked, and lost.
Departing from your childhood you slurp Coca-Cola from a silver straw. From the corner store and inside Winter yawns. There is no face, only strikingly beautiful black hair. The body under you is at home in all
My hand's fingers have to fill. All the clothes that you could carry for the two-way adventure. There are
Never enough bubbles between your lips and the glass bottle you have. Only the score of the whistleblower. And the poor symphony you had prayed for into the dial-tone phone, the deep Wilderness, that stiff forever-ago budding from your coffee cup. Neurogenesis lifted from your Fingerprints and emblazoned into this lump of human ingenuity. The hopeless octave that cut us all short.
Every short story that was left untold. There are the brief deaths recoiling in your spiritual architecture. The ****** of morphia has bourn me awake. Inside you are often unscathed, vanishing as some of Tonight's parts assemble you, on you blue is a beautiful color. The sweet retreat that gave you life or the bountiful deaths that counted you too cutely by your side. You are the sun in my black coat. Here is my sea, your sea, you'll see.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:34 AM UTC
Before the sparrows came,
this land was green and bountiful
song and love filled the morning air
and peace was not far away.
Before the sparrows came,
these people where one
in a marvelous dance
of freedom and joy.
Before the sparrows came,
all children and adults
were treated as one
no segregation of mankind.
Then the sparrows came,
and nothing grew the same
song and love where something strange
and peace was hard to find.
Then the sparrows stayed,
everyone was changed
no joy was in the air
not even from oneself.
And still the sparrows stay,
all children cry with fear
of what the sparrows have done
and nothing stays the same.
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 1:42 PM UTC
grey and worn
the lawn chair has dead leaves stuck to it
its one bent arm an expression of pained indifference
mud clings to its feet
and a single vine like a thin snake
wraps its way across its frame seeking the sun
i pull at it to set the chair right
to seat myself
and **** at the breeze from the open field
marvel that a cow stands not five feet away
silently watching my every move with a wary eye
lunching on the grass and ****
but the chair now uprooted from its long held position
seems more than ever a proclamation
of mans intent to be seated here on heavens lawn
clear illustration of the intent that you are supposed to
take this bent greasy seat
sit at your leasuire
in the bountiful sunshine
it is one of a dozen in the field
in this beautiful slice of heaven
the lawn chairs
litter the field like broken teeth
set in a line that wanders across the wilderness growth
each having suffered from years standing in the open field
two almost completely consumed by bushes
one had been tossed into the tree
where time had swallowed it into the bark
this broken and brutalized fence of chairs
these lawn chairs of heaven's field
sit in this beautiful place some would say eyesore
i say artwork of life's randomness...
what party of fools once sat here
dressed no doubt for the occasion
perhaps celebrating
perhaps mourning
then got up from these plastic seats
and left them behind as testament
to that forgotten day...
so i sit in heavens lawn chair
a mute salutation to my unknown compatriots
who painted this pastoral scene
of plastic in a field
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC