Imagine, my dear John… How despite decomposition, your seeds inspired growth! Indeed, imagine there’s no heaven – stripped to core of love! Alas, flowers of redemption wither, when feeling trapped within four walls where shreds of hope are but lost. Arteries injured by life, it’s inevitable we’d find few options aside temporal vice – even […]
Many have asked whence flow these words; meat of muther, I truly do not know. Prose to the writer is often catharsis of innermost being. Like worm to butterfly, we thrive on wingèd freedom of truth; creating beauty of matter once discarded, daring dream with audacity of hope amid’ trials of despair. ’Tis often all
Dearest JonathanSon of Saul, So shall man search for MaryThroughoutALLDays of life Sharing vin of agèd id with many a soul in seed’ So shall open armed embrace weeping brotherSome will witness false convicting art u’knownOh’Never bridging difference ’twixt love and hateAn angel opened window upon this horizonW’ sparrow glimpsed a freedom deniedTremb’ling broken-hearted stringAhhh’
I’ve hesitated writing these words, at risk that any stumble… but fear I’d be dishonest withholding. These past few years have deeply grieved the spirit, having me doubt all once held sacred. I’m referring to a faith shattered by family who’ve poisoned waters, unholy. While I don’t place trust in men, when my own
A poet clings to life this night The quill too, cries I fear For Muse & Eye Of Parchment DRY ’Stead of ink A Tear
People keep warning how this crusade for broken souls will cost my own While I hear and respect all opinion, such often come from foreign perspectives, far removed from lived experience. I appreciate my story may be a jagged pill difficult to digest, but I’ll be damned before giving in to undertow. This mission mirrors
At eleventh hour of a has-been life, the painted poet bows an ink-weary head in void ’twixt day and risen moon. Undeserving, ’tis here at crossroads of spear and fleshly side, our warrior falls hard of unrepented knee… sinner to very core! And whence came this newly minted ore of seventy and seven pence within grasp?
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Does it ever get easier? Any Respite From anger From cancerous Tear Does it ever shift Or Drift A w a y Ill vexations Ahh’ The greyin’ cold I dwell not upon the theory For to wit’ Would ’come unhinged Unbearable to pair Not so much Un Yoked Less fair Un Fettered This old shame
Good people, We’re entering uncharted waters, where shifts toward New World Order are inevitable. Change will happen incrementally so as not to incite revolution – enforced in fashion customary to 3rd world countries. As evidenced with non-essential services, closure of companies will have masses dependant on subsidies for survival. To start, expect mandatory vaccination of
