Bliss Upon My Lover

Bliss Upon My Lover

Bliss Upon My Lover

The child of my body, asleep in my arms
I rock and spin him, perfectly graced
Then settle him down in his new cradle
And cuddle him warmth in the night, embraced

*

I whisk my pride from atop the sofa
And carry him down the hall, to bed
He tugs my beard as I lay him down
Tucked and tired, I kiss his head

*

I displace my lover up, from table to rest
Lowered down, the coffin sways
I weep upon the mound of dirt
And pray for them my life away

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Solace In Hunger

Solace In Hunger

Solace in Hunger

I starve myself of food, wants and desires
And clothe myself in this modest attire

To reignite my lost, compassionate soul within
And replace the greedy heart therein

These pangs echo in rhythmic drum-beats
The trickery of the mind to nag a cheat

As time goes by I discipline my thoughts
To relive that which I had forgot

The beggar’s hunger and the farmer’s thirst
Of the panic within that goes unversed

The sweat of plough, in every bread
Of every heave and drop they shed

The barren, beaten hands that bathe in rain
Of the noble pursuits that wash in vain

Those poor eyes that cherish an earnings wage
Versus my ownings, that I negate

A glistening humility this practice brings
To ground my extravagant, selfish whims

With empathy and love in people, regained
I find solace in hunger, again

THE MORE I THINK

THE MORE I THINK

The more I think
The more you dream
The more these ambitions
Seem less to be

Relentless they accused
Relentless we denied
The truth of the matter
Lay buried behind

Sinless he steals
And sinless she swindles
As the weight of sin
Does slowly dwindle

Adoption of anguish
Adoption of deceit
The structures of justice
Fall victims to conceit

Hollow they prayed
And hollow they forgave
To the unhindered kings
And shallowest of knaves

In the most muted of nights
In the most muted of hearts
These saints of misdeeds
Do vice impart

Waging war on the body of mind
Waging war on the foundation of ideals
We cheer not these barbaric acts
Our arms drop dead and heads kneel

My Heart and Soul in hope, unite
My Heart and Soul in doubt, segment
Two polar intuitions, in a vessel, bound
Only one, of which, was ever present

ITS BEEN A YEAR FOR ME AT THIS. AN INFORMATIVE, SLOW AND LONG YEAR. THANKS FOR BEING A PART OF IT.
(picture credit to owner)

A Candle’s Worth

A Candle’s Worth

A Candle’s Worth

A King lay sleeping in his kingdom fair
He awakens late in his castle spire
And jumps off his mattress lush
Walking about in a silken attire

Peeking out the window, glancing around
He saw none of the majesty assumed
Contrary to the vision of gleaming sights
Lay a town beneath in dark consumed

If all houses can’t bear a candlelight,
Then what is the point of gold this much?
His depressed mind inquired his heart
For what is the worth of a kingdom such?

An old beggar awoke on the kingdom floor
His mouth ran dry from frosty nights
As a little boy threw him corn
Staring at him through a lantern’s light

Diminished clothes on the beggar’s back
Nothing worth a second look
Cold on the street, scurrying around
Less he was, the more he took

A little dull man in a glimmering town
His repute was none, his worth mere
He stood pounding his head in rock
For what is the worth of a beggar here?

A bright kingdom engulfed in dark
Where a candle’s warmth had contrasting worth
Perceptive desire brought about by a value
Inherited and ordained, decreed at birth

I CREATE

I CREATE

 

I create figures from sand
At the bottom of the ocean

I create an army of stick-men
In a house of matches

I create an ice
Below which, the sky slithers

I create houses of leaves
In Autumn’s glory

I create empty graves
For each thought I discard

I create a mother’s warmth
For the orphan to cuddle

I create the skin
Which I tattoo with my memories

I create humanity
From shadows at night

I create thunder clouds
From morning mists

I create the fantasies
Within which all these are realized

 

You may find these verses to be ironic and that is somewhat the point.
Read them from a different perspective, not by what they say, but by what they mean and you will share a glimpse into how I write.

There are many joys to writing, though probably none as satisfying as being able to convey my thoughts and ideas to others through a medium by which they not only understand on a personal level, but are also able to understand it in their own unique way. This path of individuality, all the way from the writer to the reader is the beauty of creative writing, with which comes the freedom of writing. The freedom, to be able to do and say whatever I want, just by using a few words, in a way that actually gives the look and feel of reality, without the parts that drag us down. The freedom of being able to create. That’s what I enjoy most about writing. The ability to create.

 

LET ME TEACH YOU

LET ME TEACH YOU

(satire poetry)

LET ME TEACH YOU

Come here little one, so lost you seem
Dark and cruel, this world can be
Let me teach you how to succeed

Let me teach you how to think
As character blooms from one’s inner-self
I’ll sow the thoughts that need to sink

 So, let me teach you your ambitions
For my will longs to see you strong
For I fear you wants, your bad decisions

Then let me teach you with what to speak
Since manners cannot run foul
I’ll liven you up in a world this bleak

After, let me teach you where to go
For wandering souls go astray
I’ll draw up the map that you will follow

Also, let me guide you with who to follow
Filter out the words unwanted
To protect you from grief and sorrow

 Why not, let me teach you who to trust
Since such traits run scarce
Better resolved than wanderlust

 So heed my words O innocent child
I enter your life only for your guidance
To tame you up in a world this wild

Surely you can trust me…