Current poems in progress...

Grey ribbon of smoke curled above
peaceful old chimney
Popcorn and love
by the fireside

The Cut needs to be Deep
or else I will not understand why I bleed
My pains must pierce, That my moons my day mock not.

The cut needs to be deep you see
To stop the pleading cries
Of my future generations
I don't want to have
Please go so I can
Do what I need
To do.
-------
My pains are our fears,our 'demons'.They must pierce,become real lest our moons mock our day,our hope,aspirations and essence.

Psalm

I once had a Glory
that was my own.
Its light and Its dark
were my own.
Precious oils made smooth
my Glory's path
and continous was Its life.
 
Purity was found in my Glory's midst.
Thus revealing the taint
of my shades.
 
I dyed;
and my Glory died with me.
 
Now It is a dry cloud that
knows not rest.
The Glory is tinted with
false taints;
Its wanton curl
denied by arid heat;
broken and stained by vanity.
 
I denied the age of my Glory
and it departed.
Selah

-------
Good metaphors applied to an old idea
rosie

I wound down the time
for it steals my soul

I was thinking about death
And it's finality
Part of me is scared about that finality
But the truth is,
I will only care now.
Just before my Grandma died,
She gripped my hand fiercely.
I thought it was fear and I don wanna die!
but now maybe perhaps it was
the final chance to make a lasting impression.
Prying her dead hand off of mine was a LITTLE UPSETTING!!!
Now I feel like I have to live...I must do things, anything to live my life in a bright flash of light.