Wysterical

Wisteria blumes
Smiles and hopes turn to purple
I am home once more

Twisting and turning
Deciduous decisions
As the earth gives birth

Then the purple melts
the memory fades away
But the scent lives on

To You!!!

To You!!!
This has to be epic and words elude my heart. I can’t explain this dagger that runs through the length of my soul. It’s always there with that stabbing pain every time I turn my thoughts to you.

I was shackled and my arms couldn’t reach where my heart needed to be. I carried dreams of us through the pain and agony like the weight of the world. My words became small and stuttered as I watched us fade into a history I shared alone.

Time buried us into the myst; but I kept lighting fires so we wouldn’t melt. Inside the myst and dust were clouding the distance between us. The clouds parted in intervals to brighten my hopes, but it seems clouds would swirl again.

Belief is a fragile concept that dissipates without conviction. I will always have this dagger, and will never stop hoping for us. I’m sorry are just letters when your hopes are only thoughts and feelings.

I have the rest of my life to find the balance between us that will clear the air towards sunnier days and peaceful nights. Or, I will carry this dagger to my death knowing that when I’m dust you’ll know I loved you more than I was able to show.

Either way; you were always my heart and part of it died when I wasn’t there. I hope you know you’re loved and missed forever.

Voices

I may not have a voice but I have words. Words in my head that define my world, including you. I speak to myself while you squirm with your lies and overtones. But it’s all white noise just outside my thoughts. I’ve said more in silence than you could possibly scream along the fringes of my sanity.

I see past your illusions, past you twisted views of a life where truth and lies are two sides of the same coin. I see ahead of your intentions. Where the other side of your horizon drops off into the abyss. My sight serves me well, I see with my mind and my intellect doesn’t need eyes.

I hear your narcissistic dreams, the perpetual nature of your ego echoing around you like a foul mist. A nightmare for anyone who revolves around you. I’ve woke up; I heard the writing on the wall reverberate across time. I realized a long time ago your cries have no tears.

I feel your privilege strangling the history of my ignorance, but remember, the truth is untouchable. The truth you hide behind red doors and letters swirled in contempt. I’m written in bold print, I come from a river of fools, I’ve touched hunger and despair, but nothing makes my skin crawl like the touch of your lies.

Common sense is a lens for the world you created for the parasites that feed your history. Truth is a sense. A sense that illuminates reality, and once that light touched my skin my soul wept tears of dust for the wasted days of ole.

Since it’s Sunday

Gilded doors open wide to the smell of varnished wood and the soft steps of carpeted footprints. Light filters through stained glass murals creating shards of majestic light. Empty moments wait in anticipation.

The cross hangs centered high above the lectern framed by ornate chairs creating an isle of redemption. The rows of spindles form a line of demarcation between the masses and the messengers; and the only thing between them are the soft cushioned shelf to kneel.

Words and bread are washed down with wine and meanings fermented for centuries. Centuries of roles played out to the rhythm and design of a place called sanctuary. A place where freedom has boundaries.

And then the day when the silence of tradition is shattered by pain and misfortune wrapped in elegance and smiles. Feathered hats and stiff shirts ruffle in a truth remembered. Thunderous truths that remind us that it’s ok to “fall short”. This is the one truth that keeps our commitments in line with the architecture of reality.

Then the reality of silence reminds us hypocrisy is necessary to further the cause. The less fortunate need our contempt to remind them that blessings are earned; that faith has a reward as evident by you’re place in the pews.

Then the gilded doors open wide to the light of truth. The soft winds of the world caress the idea that prayer is what separates the chosen for posterity. Handshakes and hugs are safe amongst the forgiven; so now the armor of God will protect the chosen from the filth as they go forward into the world they strive to order.

These remnants of historical fiction are embedded in the souls of structure. Humanity was lost on the fulcrum of Christ. Nothing is Holy. It’s man’s desire to rule that perpetuates truths as a parody of faith.

Christ lived amongst the people outdoors where no one was homeless. Where everyone was lost in the idea of humanity as one. The church was where they traveled; in a grove, in a house, or on a boat they ate, breathed, and believed.

His words inspired the world to goodness; not in a book, not in a building, but in a gaze where breath and flesh pressed the meaning of goodness into acts of kindness.

So now I travel as one, not alone, but within an ancient truth passed down through time and thought. Born unto me through the simple truths of good and bad, right and wrong. He was not the Author, but the messenger who gave his life for the truths I’ve known since birth. And I’m the only man that owns this for myself, everyone else is a usurper.

Gaze

I look into your eyes till you become a feeling and desire consumes my heart. I no longer see us, I feel the space that’s always one pulse away from something unexplainable. A place where love pails in comparison.

I keep writing in hopes of finding the words; in the same manner I keep looking deeper into your eyes hoping to find that space where you and I no longer are us. Where a minute is eternity.

Your eyes are embedded in my soul. I breathe to see you past anywhere sight could take me. Blinded by the beauty of us. The beauty of two people without a world to cloud the light of love.

I no longer look at you; I’ve seen what loving deeply means. Your gaze draws me within myself where the embers of us burn forever. Your eyes are like a soft breeze igniting memories and hopes into the fire of now.

Every time I look in your eyes is like looking into the lucid heat of a mirage. I feel the heat of our love warming my soul and suddenly the world melts around us. So I’m lost within now stretched across moments and space, hiding from time and the world, lost within you.