Dressed up in yesteryear’s clothes,
commencing the “walk of shame”
where passersby know no names –
only someone’s leaving from
where she shouldn’t have been
Walking proud like nothing’s happened,
red eyes reveal streaks of dissatisfaction
‘cause mornings came sooner than expected,
betraying the beauty of kindred dawns.
Resuming appearances undetected, still,
knots swell on the inside, holding tight
to a longing for dreams come true.
Dreams… born of heart’s adventure,
divine anticipation, and womanly speculation,
with hope left uncensored underneath its
cynical skin. Dreams… of being in…
when all the resolute moments define
a lifetime of falling out.
All that’s left is sore.
Sore sights, sore ears, sore lips, sore tears,
sore promises in arrears found a sore core.
Sensibilities say “no more”… and, yet,
there’s always tomorrow.
Suns rise in different shades, but never
fail to shine their rays on reality’s dimming.
And so, possibility keeps brimming
within the soul… believing universal scheming
will one day roll love’s mistress
out of its fleeting bed and into its eternal home.
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Check out my latest post in The Seeker’s Dungeon – The Twist.
He exposes me
between the seams, undresses
me down to the bone
packing of baggage to send
pride off on its own
Alone is just a
fantasy where thought presumes
its desires hide
But heart’s beat drums the
tell-tale rhythm, alerting
soul – he has arrived
Time slows to still just
long enough to let all come
piece by piece apart
Then, regathers each
to reshape the whole to now
hold each other’s parts
Not here, not there, but
everywhere we connect
on every plane
Not now, not then, but
every when, our paths have
led our souls this way
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Maybe it’s because I feel some kinda way –
yesterday sits on the edge of my mind,
like a clingy child on grandma’s full hip…
Her supple cheeks were soft to the touch.
Much of the time, I was lost in their silkiness.
I remember she smoothed on Olay with an
away and up motion. That was the key,
she told me… the key to maintaining. And,
though I hated being sick, I do often miss
the awakening sensation of her go-to Vicks.
No one else did, but she cared enough to
provide the right rub for whatever ailed me.
The vibrato in her song lends chills to my
memories, and her depth of soul must’ve
evolved throughout the centuries. There’s
no other explanation for her effect on life.
Life then… was sustaining, but never enough
to satisfy my imagination… so I dreamed often.
Dreams were my existence, and reality… just a
resistance to the world as it should be. All the
bitter circumstances never defined me: broken wills,
hustled bills, shattered hearts and scattered parts…
heavy chains, spiritual drains, twisted knives and
sold-out lives… scantly father, love imposters,
damaged siblings and no forgiving… evil games,
lacking shame, pimped-out children calling
mommy’s name and… tomorrow we’ll begin again.
God’s got me and He made me clever. Wherever
my flesh existed, my mind was above it. All I
ever did covet was acceptance… you know,
to be enough of the stuff that makes parents
want to hold you close, say you’re pretty, look
into your eyes and –for once– not lie, protect
your innocence, rein in the recklessness, perhaps
even pray for their children’s successes.
God’s got me and He made me from His heart.
At the start, I didn’t realize that wherever I am,
Love is too. In this truth, there’s nothing more,
below nor above which carries more weight.
I don’t hesitate to embrace the arms that
left me cold… to find beauty in the eyes that
couldn’t behold me with affection and verity.
Incredibly, I have room to accept those who’ve
never accepted me… then, now or ever,
because I’m clever and I know… it’s most
difficult to accept what one cannot understand.
I am not a man, but I can still be the bigger one.
I can rise much higher than a baby girl’s corruption,
stretch a lot further than a spirit’s deconstruction,
reach far deeper than a soul in isolation. Creation’s
center floods my veins, and I am infinitely more than
any context. Though seen in a reality quite vexed,
I am a dream – a damn good one… the kind that
trembles bones when it speaks to souls and
softens hearts with eternity’s love; that eases
wounds and lingers on the senses; and without
pretenses, dissipates the bitter circumstances
which should never define. Much of the time,
away and up is how I maintain divine. I am a
dream which sits on the edge of the mind, like a
love child clinging to mama’s full hip, making
all life carries just worthwhile enough to
dream a little longer.
Perhaps, I am a reflection of her…
or maybe, I’m just feeling some kinda way.
as the whispers take their rise
Boiling depths bide no more time
has encountered its due demise
now tilted towards rebellion’s side
into a rigid mold –
wounds fortified by its defensive hold
by the pilgrimage of the soul; love
takes refuge ‘neath the armory’s fold
is the breadth behind swollen eyes, for
fiery veins have replaced their tides
extended across enemy lines –
no longer compromised by collateral lies
granted sabbatical leave, while
arm’s reach slips on a radical sleeve
Invaders flaunt their spoils, presuming reprieve,
turnabout’s the fate they’ll come to believe
transforms the roots of all fear, waking
dormant defenses as outcomes become clear
marching orders ring the bell for all ears
is not coming, it’s already here.