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?

A growl

This summer’s harvest has come and gone

The fruits of my labors have been picked clean

The fall has begun and already

The places where juicy fruits once stood have been taken and eaten

Each bite of the delectable fruit

Of its own origination

Of its own color

Of its own flavor

Of its own texture

Of its own size

All different

Yet grew the same

I remember when I walked the garden and spoke to the heavens for bounty

For harvest to be plentiful and it yielded

A gratifying answer to my supplications

With which I have been fed well

Now the garden is naked and my belly is empty and echoes...

A growl 

Thief in the night

I broke into the store at night

Its sparkling light of guidance amongst the darkness

I see it twinkle and I must have this thing

I wish I could see it as I do

The room is dancing and the sparkling lights refract off all surfaces

Hitting all of the things light can dance off of

It is shark and cold to touch at first

Drawing blood

Upon more exploration with my fingertips

It is smooth and warm

Now it is smiling and I inch closer

I must have it

A thief like myself

Only picks the most of delicate locks

Each click vibrates down her skin

Trembling and shaking from my touch

Holding her all night and she is mine

Shining so bright

Light glistens of her skin

This blessing I will not

squander