Tom Blake Apr 2016
LOVE, on wood,
Is raised
Into the grey sky.
The intense agony
And silent victim
Stand the military
For his apparel.
Mary and Mary Magdalene lament...
Utters of despair, forgiveness...
Then death.

To the organic eye,
His Spirit ascends into the opening
And there in the empyrean
He bides his time
For the Love---
Of ALL mankind.
elaine May 12
It took 15 years,
to realize
the hopeless nights I spent drowning myself with bottle
after bottle,
Was slowly rotting my body inside and out.

It took me 15 years,
To realize that
No one should have experience
your children  watch over you as you throw up leftover booze,
Being held up by little hands as I stumble around looking for the bedroom,
or slowly watching yourself tear apart a family because you are too full with the fact that you are the victim here in this situation.

It took me 15 years,
To realize,
I can never replace the moments I spent unconscious
Barely surviving a morning
Without a shot to get threw the day.

It took me 15 years,
To realize,
The pain I caused,
The hurt I felt,
The sorrow I provided,
And the hearts of loved ones I shattered.

It took me 15 years,
To realize
That I could live without a bottle in hand.

In that time,
I lost trust in many.
I messed up the family I loved.
I lost 15 years of life
But this wasn’t a message of my nightmare,
It’s a story of me
They came in droves.
Spiders in the green beret
riding sensation to your toes.
Gravity suddenly voids
itself and in a living hell,
the river falls in reverse.
They hastened, then.
Against my every defense,
they upend the poles
with their torrential
upward descent.
It's always the spider.
Come to wrap me in my dreams.
Feast on the blood of my day.
Drain the faith from the reserve.
I am the spider, presently.
Far enough from the prey
to play the victim, in wait,
until I sense a heart or head, strung
on one of my many threads.
Living in a different time zone, still reeling from past decisions.

Fighting venemous events to no avail,
not letting go of lasting mass incisions.

Excision of life's excitements.
Removal of my livers, kidneys, colons,
but still, I shiver in the coldness
of the living.

Admitting to the voices in my head,
that the Lord's mercy still extends,
into heaven for the choices of the dead,
who did the devil's bidding.

A foolish folly for a younger self,
to fall afoot amongst a rotten hell,
hellish landscape brought into the realm,
of mortals and the bedroom shelves.

All my dreams upon a table,
and in the dusty drawers there lies the pain.
Honestly I'm never able,
to entrust another lover with my reigns.

To fly I must begin to build momentum,
but something's caught up on me and instead preventing.

And slowing my ascension,

Also did I mention,
that every other moment that I spend here in atonement
is a ticking to a redder deathly sentence.

Repentance, with a mix of learned and unearned lessons, accuses those who lied.
Impresses extra stress especially when the ghostly men attend and lean up on my bedside.

I use to shy away but now I stare them in the eyes.

Fear's been long gone since childhood,
when crazy layovers in hazy places
played a part of strongly breaking bonds with those I thought were good.

I've felt my death a million times and dreamed it millions more.
And yet I never let myself fall victim to the final tricks of it's afflictions.

Meaning it's a situation still remaining unexplored.

I know what I lived for, and I know exists a future still in store.

But god fucking damnit life is such a chore.

Give me strength and give me more.

— The End —