Jaded
I wanted to versify about the glory I see
But the darkness and pain ever returned to me
As I was called to fight as my tears made a plea
I employed the truth which girded me so free
As I prepared for battle, the light gave me peace
I walked a hundred miles on nails with bare feet
The shield of faith provided protection so sweet
As Satan’s effectiveness began to decrease
Resisting temptation that rained from above
The helmet of salvation fit my head like a glove
I CRIED OUT with TRUTH, peace, and glory thereof
While the sword of the spirit took hold with love
Discipline lost with prayer slowly faded
Then chaos ensued and love became hatred
So I started over as my soul wore abraded
Perseverance it seems, left us sufficiently jaded
Hate Concession
Do you feel justified as you warm up to my friends?
After you cast me out like a unwanted trend.
Then painted a mosaic from a difficult past.
And sent me packing like a useless outcast.
You brought in the wolf for an intimidation endeavor.
First time for everything and never say never.
Regret has a voice that screams like a bird.
That pain hits so hard, a discouraging word.
Master of confusion. You’re a talented chap.
The bitter cold matches the sting of your slap.
So, I know we’re not perfect and we all make mistakes.
But if this is love then I’ll settle for hate.
Gavel Feels
Why do they fear us? Have we killed before?
Some murderous monster with a ghastly roar?
Our ways seem uncommon and quite aberrant.
While their judgemental gavel feels so inherent.
We’re confident, unique, and different, all the same.
Is that why they attack us with their steaming shame?
They see us as fractured and easily ruled.
While their short-sighted coup is a thing of fools?
If trying to fix us is their godly motivation.
Then we’d assume be alone and avoid their citations.
They say we’re too loud when we locate the words.
But then we’re too quiet as our cogs slowly turn.
They marvel at our warmth in its innocent measure.
Then say we’re too cold and exude their displeasure.
They applaud our agility then despise how we bend.
Too distant! Too deep! The contradictions don’t end!
The way we think and feel so deeply.
Gives cause to pause as we tread discreetly.
The words may not come for a day or two.
So we carry that burden until a plan starts to brew.
While the vultures circle and the narcissists scheme…
We decode our thoughts and map out our dreams!
Uncompromising Post
She stands so tall with dark eyes lifeless
Pondering perfection with moves so cautious
A warrior rages in her soul ever jaded
This lady, her power, a mystery braided
Now, she’s a lady down on love
Cinderella slipper lost once fit like a glove
She meditates and prays but finds no grace
Looks left at a rock and right, a hard place
She needed depth from a heart so warm
But got bitter cold from a thinker’s scorn
Iron clad rule to ensure she complies
Dictating each breathe as her will slowly dies
We can only watch as our guts wrench so tightly
STAND UP AND FIGHT GIRL! THIS MONSTER’S UNSIGHTLY!
But we remain stagnant to that which means the most
As she does her duty… an uncompromising post.
Where Tears Die
No easy way out, her tears say it all.
They brew so salty and pour out so sweet.
Propelled by purpose, they begin to crawl.
Pondering reason as they inch down her cheek.
Their path so determined remains so cold.
Tension presented in liquid form.
Eyes face toward earth as pain gently rolls.
The taste of tears on her lips so warm.
Those who escape discreetly march down.
Fatigue sets in against a perfect chin.
Shame propelled by a glorious frown.
Inch by inch toward that pool of sin.
A waterfall of tears now falls from the sky.
Over the edge into a nowhere mess.
End of the line where the tears all die.
To dissipate pain and release her stress.
Your Box
Something happens and you see only a box. Face value is invaluable to you, so you assume you see something, perhaps a fox. You act with dexterity, but the joke is on you. Ignorance reigns. Face value to me is quite indignant.
You think you’re helping but your actions miss the mark. Not even close. Not even a spark. This is the result when you, instead of listening, only try to understand yourself. This is why you fail. This is your box.
Here’s a clue. Ask a question or ten. If you lack intuition then be more assertive and try to understand. But don’t assume you know a thing. Chances are you’re as wrong as rain. You are. I’m actually not sure I can even explain. I can’t, not in a language you can easily understand at least.
Instead of focusing on your box, try something new. Blink twice… then look all around. There are piles of possibilities. That’s where you should spend your time, your energy, if you want to help me. So, don’t pray for me Argentina. The possibilities tell truths. Welcome to my arena.
A final thought. Open the eyes of your mind. Turn the key. Listen closely for the click. Remove the locks. Do me a favor. Open.. your box.
Prison Bubble
When in the snap of a finger, I am gone, I will be waiting for you, instantly. Out there, beyond that great big something… a sky… an atmosphere… a world. I’ll be there. In fact, I’m already there and you are there too, but we are also here, existing in time.
One might ponder how we exist in and out of time simultaneously. I would simply opine that if we are to ever exist outside this invisible, but powerful jet stream we call time, that we concurrently exist outside of time, but we are here, nonetheless. I consider it logical.
So, perhaps I will wait somewhere in between, beyond the sea and space unseen. Travel quickly to the edge of our arena, to another realm where you’ll find my trace. Burst through that bubble they call Interstellar Space, where you’ll likely find me learning infinitely more about grace. The search will be boundless.
This was fun, but we’re so restrained. We exist in prisons upon prisons disguised as pain. I look forward to breaking out and realizing all the possibilities. No wonder they never come back. Why would they when they are so free? I don’t think I will want to either. Nor you.
I understand you’ll have tears and that’s OK, but they’re unnecessary. Envy may be a more appropriate emotion, for you. I’ll have plenty to tend to. If I consider every scenario, it’s unlikely I’ll look back on this bubble prison, but I will be out there. Exploring. Discovering. Like the rest of them, also, waiting.
You just have to find me.
Not To Be Seen
I belong in the shadows.
I find comfort there.
I can relax and breathe.
I can be nowhere.
The walls offer safety.
A private place.
Where no one can judge me.
Then call it grace.
The center of attention.
Is a debilitating state.
Where light tells lies.
Where deceit permeates.
From the shadows I wait.
For the scene to conclude.
Any movement prior.
I may as well be nude.
You may think I’m there.
Or assume I’m away.
But I’ll watch the city.
From these shadows so gray.
I’d ask you to join me.
But there’s room for just one.
You’ll have to depart.
This web which I’ve spun.
So, I’ll stay in the shadows.
With my cautious mien.
Watching, waiting, wallowing, whispering.
Not to be seen.
Mud
You can drag my name through the mud. You have.
Tell them all about the monster you think I am.
I’ve tried to hate you because I needed to. I can’t.
Only one action remains. Pretend.
Trying to escape the flaws in my blood.
Remind me I’m nothing. Elude and escape. Hmm. No.
DNA sticks like glue or cement or clay-based mud.
Kryptonite damage. Collateral callous. Inescapable.
Be this. I can’t. I fail. Your standards judge.
Blind my intuition with past regret. Your mud.
Overbearing overture to a ten round fight. I won’t.
The patience game. A warm, cozy cave. Room for one.
Your future self saw my heart. Disdain. Denial. Absent.
Judge and jury gone away. Rain over sun. Night over day.
Fragile hearts stagger as collisions collude and collusion collides.
Mud binds. By design. Cover the eyes. Lows and highs.
Pass it down with proud confusion. Oblivious.
Appreciation applied with robot hands. Eagle eyes.
Tradition contrite. Every way. Fly a kit. Windy day.
No chance now. Gone away. Won’t come back. Mud slide tears.
Pain needs the rain. The brave need a cave.
Overwhelmed by disdain and emotion of others. A thud.
Can’t come out. Not today. Gotta stay. Please go away.
Nestled. Curled. Muscles ache. In a ball. Face down… in mud.
Calloused King
Kicking a dead horse in an existential droop.
The vinyl slowly repeats in a mysterious loop.
What once hurt so badly is now forgotten pain.
But unanswered inquiries in this puzzle remain.
No doubt mesmerized by a rigid rocket queen.
A gaze in wide wonder, something familiar, is all I could glean.
Propelled on a journey with noticeable nuclear thrust.
Her lust threatened trust, then away with the dust, in but a gust.
Did the hasty lady command the peasant to jump?
Controlling his actions with her lovely lady lumps.
Or did the big bad wolf fear he would once again lose?
Making disorganized demands after drinking some booze.
Perhaps the princess desired the heart of another?
Repeating that crushing cacoethes she saw in her mother.
Was she rightfully justified in her idealistic claim?
Evidence then planted to cover up the shame.
Or was it something alluring or lost altogether?
Where reaction ruled with an electric-charged tether.
Sometimes the answers lie in tormented souls.
Devoid of day with darkest despair in the deepest of holes.
Do I possess the courage to face this objection?
Or shall I let it fester with me in subjection?
This introverted thinking, it seems, needs no rest.
It just seeks understanding in a mysterious mess.
The satisfaction of solving such a complex riddle.
May be reserved for kings calloused by the fiddle.
Amor en el horno
Train derailment of a friendship in the making.
Tossed out like garbage after many hours of baking.
Oh, you haven’t heard? The best friendships are baked!
They take time and effort and overcoming mistakes.
So, I lost a batch, whoopty freakin doo, oh well!
Yeah, it stung like hell, the tears all swelled, I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t bathe and I smelled.
But something amazing happened amid all the rain.
I met you.. and you.. and you.. and you.. and you ALL smothered the pain.
Like stop, drop, and roll, yo, our boy is on fire!
Let’s collectively put out this flame before the ire becomes dire.
Sure I still think about that other batch I lost.
Although it’s of no consequence today, I’ve profited greatly from the cost.
Some batches go bad due to past causation.
But baking continues and we’re back in gestation.
In case you are wondering, this is a letter of love.
For my true friends who saved me like angels from above!
Bitter Linger
I saw her as a sister
But she saw me as a bae.
He saw it as betrayal
And feared that she would stray.
The picture doesn’t paint
Itself in just one day.
The answers sometimes take
Each thread to slowly fray.
You calculate the silence
The colors and the grey.
You vet the noise so loudly
And give each thought a weigh.
All the theories grab you
But intuition stays.
You have to learn to trust it
To see the wolf in prey.
Boundaries confused her
A spectrum full of gray.
Reasoning diminished
And fears were not allayed.
The taste it lingers bitter
For sweetness you can pray.
Some pain it heals so slowly
But never goes away.
I refuse to lock these feelings
I won’t keep them at bay.
For am I not the keeper
Of lives in disarray!
Divine Deflection
She’s as solid as a rock, but soft like feathers.
She’ll juke the jackasses and shun the weather.
Those floundering fools in their solo acts.
Like demon-possessed doofuses strung out on crack.
She’s like that mutant, made out of metal.
Rock her or sock her, best case you’ll fettle.
Sometimes I wonder, is she really real.
Can I reach out and grab her. Can I touch her and heal?
Perhaps contemplation is artificially injected.
As my thoughts persist with suspicion suspected.
From where does her strength originate?
Is it divine and developed? Does it discriminate?
So I’ll wrap up this brief on this Heavenly creature.
As my mind leaves me crippled, a daydream believer.
Bears and Pumas
If we passed each other by, you’d look to the sky
Perhaps even ignore me or let out a sigh
I’d be oblivious to your confusing anger
But when you open your heart you face all the danger
I hoped you’d consider not stooping so low
But your sticks and your stones struck such a tough blow
That’s what’s wrong with the world today
You’re expected to act as they say you may
And if you don’t, then they place the blame
They’ll call for your head in public shame
And if you still don’t comply, they’ll howl like the beast
And call in their pack, those horrible teeth
The wolves are out there with that smirking frown
But the bears and the pumas we don’t back down
He learned the hard way when he took a poke
And was squashed into silence like an artichoke
You might be the villain in their fairy tale vision
Because perspective to them is a rudimentary prison
But there’s a positive message. There’s no need to worry
We’re all the bad guy in somebody’s story
Diminished
You try to hold love because you see it as solid.
A sensory endeavor, lacking and stolid.
But as I see love, its celestial and magic.
The worldly perspective so limited and tragic.
I hear it yell out with trumpets and horns.
It learns and adapts, constantly reborn.
I feel it go through me, it makes no sense.
Because love is not spoken, it’s much more intense.
‘More Than Words’ explained my utter disdain.
Real love is bigger than a kiss in the rain.
If you try to convince me you’ve figured it out.
You’ll fill me with pity, distrust, and doubt.
For love is not clay or a baffling riddle.
That’s a dishonest distortion wrapped in a taradiddle.
By the way, love’s like a cloud that leaves no trace.
It exists not in sight, sound, or space.
In the end we all love something, in this abbreviated life.
Through failure, pain, turmoil, resentment, and strife.
Flutter
The leaves fluttered gently and floated slowly to the ground.
Brisk wind portrayed the fiddler, the leaves made not a sound.
We left a lifetime of triumph, as we worked our way down.
And as the end drew nigh, we circled round and round.
The other leaves cheered loudly as the wind blew so strong.
When once we all were growing, we now did not belong.
The rights that once were righted and wrongs that felt so wrong.
Now pierced the soul so sharply as we sang that same sad song.
A wealth of light was given and the water made us grow.
So many ticks before this, prior to getting old.
We stared up at the stars and remembered the love we sold.
Then fell back to the earth, at the closing of our show.
The brown, crisp leaves lied safely, as we failed to bide our time.
The hurt and pain dimmed slowly as we escaped that daily grind.
They tried to show us Heaven, but we’d all become so blind.
Our souls then rested in pieces as we left them all behind.
Cave of Sorrow
Trapped in my cave like a retreating spider.
Paralyzed by seasons, a prison so cold.
Deprecating self for a plethora of reasons.
Searching for comfort in the things I should know.
Pushed so deeply into my cave of sorrow.
My soul attacked as I tried to cope.
Metamorphosis endowed so the story fits.
Each breathe made large by their microscope.
I sought to extinguish this burning desire.
As the fire blazed on, an exhaustive flame.
Now shifted inward to a soul in despair.
Left with nothing but crippling shame.
Control has left me, so just let me be.
This is not a clash I care to win.
Whether shackled or free, dead or alive.
The fight is with me, my struggles within.
My heart and my soul, so frigid and numb.
Strapped to a leash as worthlessness shouts.
My thoughts chained to questions of empty ambition.
The night scraps for mercy, the day yields self-doubt.
Control Conundrum
I’ve seen the ugly face of control!
It has a bony nose much like a troll.
A helpless longing to consume the soul.
It hides like the wolf, but can’t take hold.
Wrapped up like a sheep, most will not notice.
But the danger is there, though he smells like a lotus.
His control is impulsive with empty threats.
While he shakes and cowers in a dark, cold sweat.
Sitting sound from a distance, he’ll come at a fella.
But standing two feet from you, he’s nothing but yella.
I’ve seen the worker, the trucker, and the hipster edition.
Chocked full of denial and narcissism.
So, WHATCHA GONNA DO with a brother like that?
You can love em, hate em, or start up a chat.
But chatting can’t work with he who lacks grace.
And love em or hate em, he’ll spit in your face.
Back to control, because he’s the real bastard.
If he thinks he can’t own you, then he’ll show he’s a dastard.
Once he realizes you’re a rock he can’t tame.
He’ll publicly shame you and tear down your name.
While he wears all white and is perfectly groomed.
He’ll plot his next action. He’ll spread all his doom.
Love Incapable
Are you incapable of loving me?
As a cohort, comrade, or family.
You chopped me up like a cherry tree.
Then sent down your verdict, GUILTY IS HE!
You could certainly love me just like a friend.
We might disagree. But we’re cool in the end.
You could even love me just like a brother.
We make mistakes, but we forgive one another.
Confusion now fights with intuition.
An upper-cut. A jab. A split decision.
Our minds lay it out from a subconscious place.
As possibilities explode, they fall from grace.
The wrinkles increase as time takes a shot.
A few drinks a day make you feel like a sot.
But wisdom it seems can supply such relief.
For infinite days where years are your thief.
I’ll remind you again that there’s nothing to do.
I’m gonna be me, so please be you.
Maybe some day, this will all make sense.
As your perspectives shift like money well spent.
Where Clouds Go
I saw a bird fly overhead today. The wind had authority.
Then the urgency of the clouds grabbed my mind.
This fascination for freedom reigned down on me.
As the clouds moved swiftly by.
I can be the bird if embrace such a path.
I can even walk away. A great escape.
From these shackles that confine and tie me down.
The expense of freedom. An ounce of energy. Otherwise trapped in a prison of decay.
So, what is love to you? Is it merely a physical designation?
And how do you measure free will?
If you show me your soul when opportunity asks.
Then I’ll bless you with time just the same. A gift to help you heal.
There’s just this riddle that knocks at my door. It goes something like this.
To where does the wind blow with such conviction?
And does it get tired of this merciless march?
A search for soul is such an affliction, an addiction… an existential contradiction.
Inside my mind exists an infinite world where time is not a fan.
A travesty! A farce! Such a hard pill to swallow.
This infinity bound to a finite burn.
For where the clouds go I simply cannot follow.
One-Walled Prison
Wait, was my responsibility your fear?
Why did you anoint me high above this bewildering sphere?
How is such a thing even purposefully given?
No! I do not accept it. It’s not to be driven.
If God wanted to hurt you or make you flee.
He wouldn’t use a soul as broken as me.
I’m a bucket of parts after a violent crash.
I’ll not accept credit for this fortuitous clash.
I desire to be more than a struggling potter.
It’s all I can do to overcome this totter.
So I offer a task to help you heal.
Stop anointing beggars who struggle for meals.
And stop giving power to simple men.
You mold them, make them, then throw out their tin.
For the blaze has created a new creature in me.
Larger than a king’s decree, more vast than the endless sea.
The only thing that’s changed is time’s marked erosion.
Which I accept with a smile, an existence frozen.
So leave here today and rethink what you do.
Because one-walled prisons provide a dreadful view.
Soul Shock
I stand on the plains, stars floating high.
Arms raised in a V.
Let me fly, I plead! OH GOD LET ME FLY!
I cry…
I fall to my knees. Tears hit the earth.
Hands excavating.
Great balls of fists pound the turf!
Tears pose the question…
What is my worth?
I ponder the gravity of soaring through space.
I may have just floated!
Did it happen? Was it real?
No… I remain at my base.
How small is my faith.
I’m merely an ant on this giant rock.
Nothing more.
My body in peril. My thoughts in hock.
I stare at the stars.
While my soul absorbs the shock.
The Little Things
It’s the little things that resonate.
Like subatomic fusion, the profound effects permeate.
An ounce of energy spent.
But the returns brimming with endorphins emanate.
This undeniable phenomenon bursts with information.
Extricating us from shackles with a dash of abnegation.
Microscopic in nature.
With prestige and charm, frozen in captivation.
I’ll ask you with humility to down-size my meal.
And prepare for a splash, profound and surreal.
An illusion of sorts.
Thrust backwards, jerked forward, then ego ideal.
Nothing is permanent a wise man once said.
Echoes of acumen abject and widespread.
A fusillade of fortitude.
A service of self and compromise thee wed.
Self Anointed
You sit there shallow as a one foot pond.
Shadow boxing in the mirror, an intimate bond.
Wait, let me get that chair for you kind sir.
I wouldn’t want your peasants to cause a stir.
For what else is more important than your entitlement?
Just look at you there, that’s money well spent.
Can I fetch you some grapes or alcohol?
Wash your feet, jump off a cliff, or take the fall?
Shall I call you Mr. President?
Or clean your mansion while I sleep in a tent?
You won’t change, you’re too far gone.
I’ve lost hope in you, these stitches are sown!
So keep doing what you do, so I can puke.
Dehydration sets in, your charade is a fluke!
The truth is your throne is the biggest joke.
And your anointing by self is as good as broke.