"quickness" poems
I have a sickness,
which is contagious,
spreading with quickness,
which is outrageous.
Every person I look upon,
is struck with the feelings of hate,
soon these feelings will be gone,
as someone else carries this weight.
Is there a cure for what I feel?
Must i react with such zeal?
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
The release; so powerful; sometimes to feel alive: all you need is a reminder:
His guiding hand:supplying the demands to the upper-hand, across her belly button, to forbidden; lands. Parted lips, her pink folds;dragging his hands down. Working each other: we ain’t fooling around; our bodies, over time. Dripping wet with desire.
Her reaching back; she leaned back. Over the edge; of the bed. standing ***** Picture perfect; she’s holding her breath, as he’s kissing on her neck, her breast, focused on her ****** the left. Right in my mouth. Long ponytail, pulled to the left. She is wet, under there, her underwear - pulled to the side, exposing her underhair; shaved bare, under there.
Fingers wrapped around him. Looking hard, she found it; tugging on it. Him pushing his luck got her pressing her lips against him. Pulling his belt out of way; biting his lips, he’s tensing. She, kiss as she play. looking a certaining way; tempting how she tempts him. She’s over the top, and its so overwhelming.
She’s all touched, from touching it; so fortunate, her ******* soaking wet, juices flowing. Wet spots, he’s all over it. Exposing her **** to his fingertips: with his index; middle finger next. Started working her slow, building up to raw *** Pressure building, rising her chest. She’s worked up; trying to get off. Giving it our best. Her waistline, being pumped from behind, so smooth; the finest wine. Unsatisfiable rhythm, keeping them inline. Holding onto her waist, he’s so online; bending backwards, pleasuring each other, every time. Some may come and go, but they come together every single time.
He’s feeling it: the way its feeling, feels so good - a burning sensation: her tenderness subduing his manhood; all is well, so it must good. Movement, with quickness, once his hips shifts, its motion sickness. Stroking his egos, increasing his stiffness, filling her deep. She’s clenching him, tighten, tighter. The feeling of him growing, she’s feeling him insider. Their wet bodies, skins glistening in the their fire.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
its unmistakable
not just another caravan of faces
not just another passing year
under a strange sky
iv reached the edge of the world
nothing but open sea to my back
as far as the mind can see
and i'm riding a west wind on a quickness breeze
on a middle of the night skiff
to the the small island
where she waits for me
where she sleeps tonight
the bold song gone soft an slow
the guarded smile relaxed into a champion of joy
and conquers all her sadness
with a single tilt at the windmills
like a knight in shining armor
nothing but deep sea
nothing but night salt and sea
and as i draw near
she sings from her soul to mine
come to me lover
laugh
yes cry out loud with all your joys
laugh pure and easy
i'm the mood for you boy
i'm in the mood for your hand in mine
dance in my heart
its a warm night in the tropics
and we got the world to ourselfs
so may i have this dance
spin
dip
ballroom of sand
laugh with me
run with me
we are free
all our lives people have tried to put us away
keep us down
now look at
dancing in the stars
look at us free and easy
dance with me baby
make love with me honey
on this ballroom of sand
laugh pure and true
with simple joy
here by salt and sea
be young with me
tonight on this ballroom of sand
come home to me
warm me with your touch
comfort me with your eyes
iv waited so long come home to me
nothing but open sea at my back
and i feel so alive
i feel so free
and my lover is near iv never been so alive
running a western quickness breeze
on a skiff heading home
to her
jezebel
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 6:00 AM UTC
(from a song)
Perhaps I was born kneeling,
born coughing on the long winter,
born expecting the kiss of mercy,
born with a passion for quickness
and yet, as things progressed,
I learned early about the stockade
or taken out, the fume of the enema.
By two or three I learned not to kneel,
not to expect, to plant my fires underground
where none but the dolls, perfect and awful,
could be whispered to or laid down to die.
Now that I have written many words,
and let out so many loves, for so many,
and been altogether what I always was?
a woman of excess, of zeal and greed,
I find the effort useless.
Do I not look in the mirror,
these days,
and see a drunken rat avert her eyes?
Do I not feel the hunger so acutely
that I would rather die than look
into its face?
I kneel once more,
in case mercy should come
in the nick of time.
4.8k
life didn't have to end up in such a place
I'm stuck, no escape, it's to much, it's making me go apes
all I see here is nothing but shame, regrets, and sadness upon everyone's face.....
grew up into what the world views as a **** up, someone who never made it, someone that just wouldn't come to a stop
it slowly developed as a 10 year old who began smoking ****
18 now, **** became his need
I'm happy as can, theres no-one around tell what I can't do, I don't have to come to a stop
next thing you know theres knock on the door
oh **** it's a cop
promised the cop I'd throw away anything that has to due with drugs
but the cop was way to smart for that, so he stayed and made sure I did what said
instead all I did was hide all of it under my bed
a month later the same cop returned, I tried running but I'm only 103 pounds and haven't seen sunlight for more than then a day
he caught me in the quickness, I pleaded and pleaded that he let me go
"I'm only doing this for your own good, don't you remember me, I'm your only brother, please stop trying to runaway"
didn't recognize him at first until I looked him straight in his eyes
I began to tear up but I didn't want to cry
the pain was getting held back, next thing you now I black out
he thought I was going die
he rushed me to the hospital and everything made sense
that's where I truly opened up my eyes
he wasn't a cop and this wasn't me
I was just in the land of the killer demon bees
that place was where I felt like I was in charge and had nothing but power
now I'm sitting in a place I call home
thinking hour after hour
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
I ******* rock it
Then I lay it down
I am not a quitter, sick spitter
**** I just flow in rounds
atmospherics an
******* stellar sounds
Lyrics of astrophysics,
like chemistry
I just shape the ground
just huddle
But do not make a sound
I crush a cypher, decipher words into crooked nouns
Instant reaction to actions,
My riddles break the crowd
I've adapted to hard labor now
Can't **** with the vision
I'm here to **** it
and change the sound
Bicycle wheel spinning, I'm grinding
I need to get around
Flow soulful, for the soul
like I'm the golden child
Y'all so so, I go super sayin
No super wild
No delaying, I'm not evening playing
You're played out
Penetrator is coming through now
Left-over flow ******* better eat their food now
2016 fiend, ***** this just a new style
I hit the restart button, say **** the hard drive, bike peddling to work say **** the hard ride, living life is easy I say **** the hard times
I'm choking the game, I'm looking to ******* hog tie
Business this
you can **** on my long tie...
Young killer
been spittin it for a long time
Past due with my ******* come up
Ain't nobody ******* with the vision I'm blowing up
Cutting all these lames like division
So I can it add up
All of the positives, at heart I'm an optimist, don't **** with my oxygen
You can't breath what I breathe, **** your accomplishments, I will squash all of them I just abolish bums
Don't **** with my vision, I will **** for what is mine
and do it with precision
All these hoes just multiply
I divided with the quickness
All these fakes just want to try
don't try cause your missing
**** all of the rules
***** I am a misfit
I am just a ghoul, no goblin, no riches
The world is full of fools
Who can't **** with my vision
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC
Hold the universe inside my palms
I alone understand it is but a solitary dream
Between stars I make out memories
Connecting dots, forming images ingrained in my mind
I look in the unfilled depths of sky where suns have yet to burn out, remaining eternally preserved in an explosion of beauty lightyears away wondering about humans peering at their ambience through time and space
This isolated reflection I witness change in compliance with the predetermined path set in motion by the astrological forces of nature
Unstable
My hands must be trembling
Scared of sorrow and frustration they undeniably confront
The fear of the uncertain, the inconsistency of the unapologetic future awaiting
Solemn visions of an imperfect outcome, enough torment to push strength a bit too far over the edge
Fragile balance of peace and chaos resting within cupped desperate hands
Ignorant, the quickness of extinction among synapses in the cavern lighting the entirety of my skull
Pinned under familiar self-induced delusions
Galaxies silently begging for permanent freedom
Such fate to let their wishes dangle ignored
Urges within bursting, released
That moment I also give in
Forcefully close my fingers into a fist
Instantly crushing wild constellations scattered around my consciousness
A great deal more fragile than realized
Once unshakable destiny budged a millimeter by one lone act of rebellion
Against a powerful pull the majority pretend is rigid
Elusive control by way of self-combustion of life's temporary illusions
Proof one touch can fell worlds of fantasy
Founded on fiction
Or maybe
Reality
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 1:29 PM UTC
I heard him at first, though barely a sound,
But I saw him, I saw me, on sinister ground.
*I am the caution and stillness and sniffing the air,
I am the fearing the danger that’s not even there,
I am the ‘watch where you tread’ and the silence and hush,
The always on lookout, the hardest to touch.
I am the quickness and briskness and swiftness and speed,
I am the flash of a tail and a warning to heed,
I am the bounding and leaping and steam in the woods,
The danger apparent, the fear understood.*
And I felt myself crying, for as soft as the breeze,
My beautiful deer melted into the trees.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 4:16 AM UTC
Years now pass our friendship by
and still I am weakened when
I see you stitch and sew a surface,
the poise of the needled hand
entering so finely, passing through
and out, and all . . .
. . . and in such silence that only
a shallow quickness of breath
and fabric’s shift and turn about
disturbs.
Oh the rapt expression on your face;
intent-full, a mask of stillness;
as though your body draws into itself
and centres all toward the quiet movement
of your small hands.
Now I pause to wonder.
Should I force a halt, intervene,
and lay that needled hand aside?
I could then perhaps traverse
the lines of your body’s pattern
and, kissing you the while, my hands
lay claim to your form and fabric.
Searching its seams, *********
its folds its curves its corners,
I would ply myself into the very thread
of your sewing self.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
The oddly abrupt crack; I turned to look,
Seeing a pigeon squirm in the driveway,
Crippled somewhat; terminally injured.
Unsure, I stared. Death -- for the first time -- seemed
Welcome; the better choice. Quickness is key
In difficult decisions. Scared, I gave
Chance control, putting the bird in the street.
A car passed, killing it. This conclusion
Appeared obvious, even at fourteen.
Maybe accepting this final release
Helps us help others pass away in ease.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
To drown in the void; a steadfast oxymoron
But I am struggling to stay afloat
My limbs lack sensation, mockery of my mind
Vocal cords cut, stolen that night in the snow
Carried to the cosmos on an angels back
Helen, how you torment me!
A thousand whispers, torrential and coaxing
To find silence would be all end all; greatest defeat
But what a warrior I found in you,
Quiet and it's little reverie
Infinite; feeling as though I should explode
The quickness of newly discovered emption uncontainable
But in solidation I am weak, without your armed defences
And Helen is touching my skin again
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
Billy Joe Clown walked down the street.
Looking for a good treat to eat.
Billy Joe Clown walked all around.
Not a single good treat, Billy Joe felt down.
But out of nowhere, came, something nice, and good.
Jeffrey Joe Child, a treat, eat it he absolutely should.
So Billy Joe Clown swooped right to the scene.
And tried his best, not to look mean.
Eyes open wide, he came to the peasant.
“Would you like a present?
Or a great big surprise?
Something served with fries?”
Billy Joe Clown said, as he smiled so wide.
“Why yes I would,” said the good child, who had nothing to hide.
And so with the quickness of a cat or a bear.
Billy Joe Clown took out a cleaver.
But the child didn’t care, so to his surprise.
He chopped up poor Jeffrey. And ate him with a Big Mac burger and fries.
Oh such a demise.
Oh such a surprise.
So if in the future, your a peasant or a pheasant.
And you hear these Clown words, “Do you want present?
Or a great big surprise?”
Run like the wind, before Joe chops you to size.
Cause he’s always out there and he’s never to die.
Chopping up children, and eating his fries.
Perhaps he’s out there right now,
Don’t ask me how.
Perhaps he’s spying on you.
Looks like Honey Boo Boo.
It wouldn’t be a surprise, to me or you.
For Jeffrey Joe Child read this poem, too.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
DAG NAB IT!!
Different day, same ****
& here I am back at it
Such a love/hate kind of habit
Speeding up the pace, gotta go like the White Rabbit
Although, I'm not going to be late
I'm just TOO impatient for time & it's hard to wait
I'm sure some of you, at times, can relate
Like when you're ready a tad bit early for a date
Time seems to go so much slower, which I ******* hate!
Of courser I am well aware
This habit is the reason I've got extra time to spare
& that is when I do & redo & redo my hair
Which I do quite often, not doing it is actually what's rare
Just another fun little FYI fact I'd like to share
& yes I know, you probably don't really care
A list of 'to do's' are done with such a quickness
Cleaning is a breeze, it should always be like this
I guarantee you though, there will be something I miss
I get so sidetracked, that's what my problem is....
Days have no end & nights rapidly just begin
Enters is turned up, my blood is steadily pumping under my skin
Creativity is leaking & starting to overflow from within
WHOA SHOCKER! Another race with the sun & yet again I win!
I don't always have the greatest self discipline
DAMN....this habit is one hell of a bittersweet sin!!
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 6:42 AM UTC
The Broom
A work out stick
Above the head
with a kick
Not pom poms
but even better
I dance with this
and make it much sweatEur ; )
Waist twists
firm swift shifts
shooBdoo with the techn9ne crew
fast stepping
twirling and bending
tap that tip to the floor
point it at the ceiling once more
sweep dirt? no way
personal cob webs go away
My broom is a tool
I twirl like a martial arts fool
Upper body exercise
with some attitude
a quickness
and now I smile
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
The days have blended into a poetic haze
of mismatched syllables, hanging participles
accented with a hint of discourage.
My purpose use to be therapeutic.
Each rhyme I wrote was a comma in my run-on sentences.
And for awhile, I could breathe. Each breath became less wheezy, uneven and strained.
After I gathered enough air, I dared to speak.
Me? How could I even have the audacity to think!?
To my disbelief, my words didn't fall on deaf ears.
The anxiety, shame, depression and fear woven
into every poem made me familiar in the minds of strangers.
These strangers made me feel human.
With quickness that's comparable to the slickness of a parable
I was ****** from a catapult into the essence of prose.
However, the latency between the beginning of my literary journey
and the discovery of my gift for poetry was afflicting my sensibility.
I succumbed to the bullying from hyperboles
and the taunting of iambic pentameter.
At times I was afraid to talk to neighbors
for fear of narrative structure overhearing.
Now, I am wandering in a fog
though the hills of unpublished work,
echoed only by the crunch of "not good enough" beneath my feet.
This was therapeutic. Now I use it to influence my movements.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
My feelings are unsure, these I haven't felt before
My heart tears into two
People drawn apart
That too familiar feeling of being alone in the dark
As I think to myself, what have I done
With the quickness of the hand,
I take what I still love
And I run
I run away from what this means
Together forever?
No.
I used to love me
I used to love us.
Married for all the wrong reasons
Who do we blame?
No happy future here
Just selfishness and shame
We used to be amazing
We used to be in love.
Now I have torn feelings, after each and every hug.
The tear no one sees
The ache no one feels.
Living in a lie,
Is this even real?
I've mixed so many emotions
Just trying to find love.
I lost myself somewhere
Somewhere I never wanted to go
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
Insouciance first fall
we took the night half-illuminated
dreamy stereo sketchy static
through ear’s round bell
smile we owe it
slanted, bendable light moon
becomes another genre
to listen lilt
even before methods of lip
procure shaded meaning cohered
on a closed door – opened
finding a semblance of Sun
there, veiling
a traffic of cirrus
in the elongated road
of blue skies
it was time
to point-source a home
taller than grass in Summer
pinpointing scenes to exact
a long divide and make it
by punishing it post-peak,
let it drift with unrelenting
quickness
past mouthed rivers and from
the lessening fog
of the same morning
i
will puncture
it true, eyes set forth
into your absence
*you’ll
bloom
you’ll
bloom.*
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 8:31 AM UTC
The saucy heated beat begins
The body and blood starts to rise
The sensual vibration moves
Shaking in the lower meat thighs
Vibrant lights turn off their burn beams
Crowded areas start to glow
I have that richness once again
It’s Electric Chronic-Techno
Arms are tight with a violent sway
Body smooth moves from side to side
The feet are twins glued together
Move into a straight liquid glide
Dance in a mind all becomes one
Gleaming body begins to flow
I have that quickness once again
It’s Electric Chronic-Techno
Take a chance and slide to the left
Then move the twitched out body right
Yell the dance passion out so loud
From the chest of full burning might
Everyone becomes a crazy
In a hot crooked little row
I have that twitchiness once again
It’s Electric Chronic-Techno
Sparked up veins become a robot
Bring into the fake or the real
All the breakers spin the limbs
Move to what the body can feel
The people dressed in colored lights
Starring in a music life show
I have that thickness once again
It’s Electric Chronic-Techno
Blast many bombs of the treble
Bringing in a canon for bass
The music drug enters the mind
Keeping at a speedy trance pace
Powerful injected speakers
Start a quick mind vibrating blow
I have that itchiness once again
It’s Electric Chronic-Techno
People embody together
The happiness like fire spreads
Millions of all colors dance
Laughing from the harmonic meds
A circular world of music
Close your eyes to move fast or slow
I have that sickness once again
It’s Electric Chronic-Techno
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 9:12 PM UTC
Trouble through calmness
Fancy of simplicity
Smiling through sadness
Just a little antithetical
Mere dislocation and unison
Sewing our lives apart
Burning because we are in love
Thirsting for no more feeling
We're disgusted at being so fed up
Prying from the freedom
Running and crying from trying and safety
We're alone while we're together
Noise against the silence
Kisses and shots from a gun
the time is going on pause
Just a little antithetical
Mere dislocation and unison
Sewing our lives apart
Morning sunset
It's the beginning of life
But the end is dawning
Quickness not too far behind
The end makes us scramble
For some semblance of stability
Looking for what is not lost
We await for the night's sunrise
Jul 28, 2011
Jul 28, 2011 at 8:07 AM UTC
she seduces my mind
with just a quickness
shes the everything iv always wanted
with a natural beauty thats more than just surface
heartfelt from her spirit
clean and strong
she is a woman in ways that just fill me with joy
fill me with longing
i was always hers
iv been hers forever
tell her be with me
take my hand
lets find that beautiful day together
be my beautiful day
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
My Allure
Comes from the Love that resides inside
Not in the stare of my "bedroom eyes".
From the uplifting Words that depart from my lips
Not in my stroll or swing in my hips.
From my ability to graciously give of myself
Not in my curves or financial wealth.
From my quickness to drop to my knees...In Prayer
Not from the secrets beneath the clothes that I wear.
My Allure
Comes from an acceptance of All that I Am
Not in a desperate attempt for a man.
© Tina Thompson
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 2:17 PM UTC
Imperfections
The kindest evidence the savior passed was the marks he bestowed in the most gentile articulation in this
His wise choices matched imperfection to our needs. One of the most telling attributes of women can be
Her hands but what if they are slightly marred the grace only flows to a deeper level quickness is
Replaced by deliberate action slower more thoughtful and profound a touch placed with this kind of
Feeling goes to a measure instantly felt it is not just the ordinary but a thing of force that unravels
Trouble mysteriously it finds the hidden knots looses them allows love to flow wide and full. Perhaps a
Man no longer strides with a power that has an assurance maybe he is depended on a stick for support
Where power is diffused it only changes channels it makes the heart stronger the eyes feel it too
Humanity in others is recessed the blunder the self efficiency drains from boisterous streams into calm
Assessment a flow that harnesses possibility not vain bravado that can at times wound those who are
Weaker and that are struggling. If times try men’s souls then imperfection can be a clarion call the
Placement of virtue at the lead where sometimes pride is the driving force this writing came from seeing
A woman walking in a sunny scene and she had a blotchy spot on her arm others could observe this and
Be to one degree or another repulsed but to the man who loves her it is a special calling card it
Touches makes the forces revel in a display that sets her apart from all others an instrument of sound
That separates from the den isolates carries a marker that generates tenderness, esteem, and honor
Thou art the tune and sound of a masterful violin play nothing else in my presence nothing else will do
Your imperfections makes another whole don’t ever fret over your special make up it is the breath and
The visitation of the divine in the human form boldly brushed in the shadow perfected by sun light.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 2:16 PM UTC
Feeling her heart pound with the quickness of her breath she knows that she has found her long lost brother. Her eyes shining with excitement, not knowing what to expect from him, scared that he will turn away and leave her again. Holding her breath and quietly walking over to him, tapping him on the shoulder with her index finger, slightly shaking with fear. Her brother turns around and smiles. The reconization dawns on him and his face burns with fury of being discovered, by his own sister nonetheless!!
How could she, he wonders furiously! He had left home for a reason and now she has come to take him home he is sure. Well, not this time, she
won't. In his heart he knows she means well, but he can't go back. If only she knew why he couldn't. Gritting his teeth he tears out of the bar, leaving his sister looking after him with tears streaming down her face and calling his name. He couldn't stop; he had to get out of there so he wouldn't have to hear her crying.
She slumps down onto the stool that he was sitting on before he decided to leave. She had traveled so far to bring him home safely and he wasn't about to let her! She knows in her head that she should leave him alone; yet in her heart she couldn't just let him go on living without knowing that his family was there for him no matter what kind of trouble was, but she was going to find out, whether he wants her to or not!!
Shivering from cold and anger, he walks through the streets hoping that she won't come after him. He loves his sister, but if she ever found out about him she would never love him the same way again. Feeling wetness on his cheeks, he furiously wipes the tears away, cursing at her under his breath. Feeling hands on his shoulders he whirls around ready to fight his attacker but stops short when he realizes whom it is. He was looking straight into his twin sister's deep blue eyes. He saw only love and affection, not anger or
hatred. How could he have ever thought that she would desert him? She was his twin and she would stand by him through think and thin.
As she stares into her brothers eyes, only feeling love for him hoping that he will say something or do something to let her know that he wasn't going to run from her again. With her tearstained cheeks and teeth trembling from the cold, she gently takes his hand and caresses it with her fingers looking into his eyes pleading to him to let her back into his life. His hand trembles with cold or anger, she can't quite figure it out.
He catches his breath as she takes his hands while they shake with the confusion of not knowing what to do. He draws in shaky breaths and extends his other hand and strokes her cheek wiping the tears away from her eyes pleading with an emotion choked voice to stop crying. She nods and says that she will try only if he stops, making him smile, for he had wiped his tears away and her still knowing that he was crying on the inside.
She slowly offers him a smile hoping that he will open up to her. When he gently strokes her cheek, she feels his fingers shaking, now knowing
not from anger, but from love........
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 3:49 AM UTC
In the midwinter of the soul,
all is cold and fruit is
nowhere to be found.
Leaves and blossoms that once
sat spinning light and health
have fallen off and lie there,
broken down below.
The forest floor beneath me,
one time,
was carpeted with remnants
of my last sweet spring
of growth.
Abandoned, all but lost,
and listening,
to a moaning in the wind.
But trees don't die in winter;
nor did I.
Spring crept in slowly, bit by bit,
an undiscovered quickness in the
heart, and hints of breath
so far away, so deep within, that
stirrings heard were no more spent
than darkness closed back in.
But still that gentle pressing in the
heartwood of my soul,
kept on, and stronger day by day
until, with terrifying clarity
the parts of me that died
were seeking fully to control
each waking thought.
In the midwinter of the soul,
the heart is cold, and fruits
that once were juicy lie there
rotting on the ground.
And all seems lost within.
But 'tis not so for me, I know,
for Spring has come again
once more, the sap runs true,
runs through each drooping limb.
Lift up your heads, you forests of
the Lord, bowed down,
surrounded,
cold within.
Let light shine forth within you,
let the woodland fairies swim
through waterfalls of blossoms as they
slip from limb to limb,
delighting in the tearing of the
chaining wounds within.
"Bleed once more," He told me,
"let the terror of your sin,
destroy the cold unfeeling
that has wormed at you - and then
at last,
the living, green delight
will sparkle like the stars of
every clear and silent night."
Bear fruit in keeping with the
cleansing of your soul, for
every tree drinks deeply
of the river's rushing flow;
take confidence, a promised voice to hear:
"Well grown, my tree. My good and
faithful bough."
+
And in the brightness of His
majesty, I will forever
bow.
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 6:54 PM UTC
its not like i traded up
or for that matter down
every cog still turned to the left
each lever, still up and down
it started like an episode
of ricky lake
and ended abruptly
on springer
im in the sound proof booth
judging those who stand encased
aside me
i should leave before this gets ugly
indiscretion led me here
fortitude kept me
embarrassment fed me words
and loss encapsulates all
every stitch
the joy and glee
lost to ants in a wildflower patch
it stings now
verbosity rivaled only by impetus
but quickness
if only counted in months
falls short with words
im sure there's a happy ending
a call in the black of midnight
in a letter carefully opened
through a kiss tentatively given
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC