When disjointed images
meet the word
written in lineage
as old as Earth
What matter does
the grey of mind
play upon the tongue?
It gives birth great prose!
::-::
When disjointed images
meet the word
written in lineage
as old as Earth
What matter does
the grey of mind
play upon the tongue?
It gives birth great prose!
::-::
I chanced upon an exquisite puzzle one day
It was tiny in size and easy to touch
I did not want to figure it out
but just to hold…
I turned it this way, that way
— any way it would move!
And at times interlocking pieces
would come and go
Eventually I closed my eyes
and relied on touch and faith
and found it much easier to navigate
Life is such, that way.
::-::
Today I faced
a wall in my way
but did not see
a barrier.
Instead I saw
steadfast resolve
::-::
SOME say death is by chance
a twist of fate,
merely happenstance
And others take the rein
seeking death by their
own hands
I say death is the magician
a slight of hand, misdirection
allowing humans to believe
the end is Fate or Self-Fulfilled
But angels see the Cold Pact
forged before time itself
Life is a ledger and always
paid when balance is due
::<>::
All my analogies have rebelled
wishing a place among the living
stripping away their cloak of
innuendo
And with fang and claw
they take me
:: – ::
was a nameless thing that moved
The proximity of this horror
to my heart made me leave my skin
:: – ::
Skittles rolling across the road
all the colors of a rainbow
blue beetles climbing
all the muttering way into
a chasm of my asphalt heart
A hawk upon a slender pole
evolutionary eyes tearing
souls apart — SQUAWK!
A white line fever keeps me
away on a long road into the
forevermore and I cry…
I cry…within a nest where
she threw my eyes|| it’s
easy to see without eyes
it’s easy to breath without life
so easy to be simply broken
all apart
:: 06-19-2015 ::