Great beyond any measure one can think of

There is something transcendent about love
that makes the soul whole again and puts me at peace and wings can grow
spread wide and glisten white in the glow and warmth of the light
and takes me back to my home
in the sky close as one can get to the heavens
There is something terribly evil about the world
that corrupts the wings of a pure soul and forces it to reveal
its clay feet
grounded in sorrow forever
stuck like concrete shoes
still forming its shape
I only know of the evil that destroy's the Angels of men
and the goddesses of women in their place comes a man with clay feet
a woman who once was supreme to only retain her beauty that causes
the once Angles now men to lust for her
To possess her beauty as a trophy
and to worship hr as once was the role of men
To worship her imperfections as an artist does with a muse
that is what makes her beautiful and great beyond any measure
one can think of

Wet on the concrete

It is so cold
out on the concrete today and it is raining a torrential storm
that won't stop forcing the homeless and down trotted to the water front
where they can shiver on cold and wet pathways that the rich and well to do
run on and pass by
them with their snooty noses
barely can see down their noses
they are so large
just up into the city center
all the tall banks and big buildings
where the affluent pour out of
natural grocery stores and artisan coffee shops
and the cold and wet sit on the concrete
watching and holding resentment
in their loins
It is the only thing that keeps us warm as we see these people gripe and moan about heavy grocery bags and wet socks
and at night
when they get to go to their warm homes
we the people
get to be cold and wet on the concrete

Soaring soul

At one time the soul was whole and could soar into the heavens and one could see a masterpiece of colors and travel far distances

Through lush jungles and forest and over high mountain tops and down through the valleys

On such travels one would see people love and people lose

Their tears and their cheers from the jubilation of light

As did the soaring soul

Slowly he lost too much

The world bittered him to a patch of disdain for all mankind

The world became too loud and scary

So many suffering souls without reprieve

Wilting away in the corners and alley ways

Where the light dare not go

Jaded by love lost and always love lost with a packet full of misadventures wrapped in her legs and arms clutching at you

Her moans of adoration in love making

The feeling of her hand on your chest

All lost to time and fate of the world that takes

And in such taking of the world the soaring soul lost its wings

Lost were the heavens to such immeasureable heights

The heavens and its angels gone separated by invisible light

Slowly the soaring soul walked the earth in long last duration

Taking in the dark until it became full on it

Now the soul no longer walks or moves much anywhere or enters into battles of love and joy

The darkness covers the corners and the uncertainty of that turn keeps the soul moving

No direction leads the soul or ambition of wanderlust

The cynicism takes hold tight and the soul disapates into a a plane of nonexistent nihilistic living

So now we search for the soul only to make the same mistakes the soaring soul made

Where once the soul was whole and could soar into the heavens with Gods angels

We do so much with our hands

We do so much with our hands

We hold thoughts and concepts like intangible dice

Roll the right sides to give us the desired result

Like the love we all seek and when I hold her hand

They are smooth and I am calm because her hands can hold my heavy thoughts

Like the pursuit of freedom that we write words about

In our pastoral settings that illuminate vast fields and jungles filled with trees we find freedom this way and get lost in the height and weight of it all

We hold life in our hands

Children so precious

In our hands

So fragile and they chose my hands to support them

I look at my hands and the calluses, the scars, the marks on them, and they tell my story without a word

I look at her hands and I can see what she lost and what she did with her hands

How they were once soft and sweet and now they are heavy like mine are now

I know I can hold them and keep her safe if she’d let me

I know the things we can do in each other’s hands and the worlds we would trek

The rocks and freedom would tumble as we would climb great mountain ranges

We would find the spirits and passions would climb if she’d let me

We could ascend together in each other’s hands

If she’d let me

Shivering arms

I got the bug
The poison
It's spreading throughout my veins
I let so much go and did not give it a bother
The selfies
Narcissism
Materialism
Destruction and decay
Civil unrest and misguided violent action and its messaged buried in the rubble from the fires they made
Famine Poverty
Homeless addicts at the age of 16
Suicides and lost souls
So sad
They cut their wrist with razor blades and hang themselves with belts
To top it all off
Still all the ones who can help
Do nothing
Say nothing
To help the people of which its power is derived
While men die
Children are shot dead
And families sleep on concrete beds in the tundra of winter with shivering arms

Tomorrow's today

I need to sedate my brain
Shut it off
Re-begin
On tomorrow's today
Reboot return to yesterday
When all was merry and gay
To leaves turning color and the sun saying Hey!
Shutdown
Goodnight
See you on the sun's return for tomorrow's today

Where do I go?

Where do minds go when they have no place?
Where do they go for work without wax paper degrees?
Without affluenza and family money?
Without connections from mommy and daddy?
Where do I go?
When society dictates my future with predicates for joining their club?
With membership occurring of my own volition under coerced societal conditions?
Where is it that we intellectuals
Artist, rebels, anti-conformists, against the grain, walk your own path
                           Where do we go other than death?