Loftydreams101

Today’s slurs are like stagnant water Welled up in my skull, Like the full weight of ruin From a landslide’s fury - Like an infernal melody Leagues under my skin, Leaving villages of sonnets To sink away in ashes - These fire-tinged lies Were set long ago, From a fellow voice adrift In a mire of their design - These words cannot belong Encaged in either body Or afloat in the ether Seeking worlds to dissolve

A machinery’s red -hot grind Is slowly revving to a stop, Consumed by the grime Of too many summers lost - The glow Of her senseless labor dims, Entangled by the webs Winding over her frame - The swarms of her crew Fill the veins of their city, Her bones left to rust In their livelihood’s tomb - Now songbirds Warble in the wake of her rest Giving life to her limbs, Building nests in the wires

He is the ghoul in their heroic shadows A changeling, skulking Through the treacherous bends Of a concrete maze - He is a sign of the times In his woolen black armor, Speaking in riddles When his mind is afire - He is trouble leering back Past their sequined layers, Through the balmy colors Of a far-away Eden - He is the quiet tempest Who lives in their reflections, The rolling thunder Waging war in their hearts

Long walks through the morning frost Sit heavy in my stomach As time marches me away From the safety of solitude - Another week turns In the pitch-black stillness As I wait to be inhaled By the oblivion I’ve designed - To live a life filled with greeting And grieving and groveling, Looming larger and larger Until the bittersweet collapse - How long can I Bear the weight of old screams? Hauling them along The pale arteries of town

Falling out of the morning’s rhythm With a childhood of burdens Tied around my waist As it screams to its demise - My limbs go slack During the steep decline, As a healing mantra blooms Over the desert swathe within me - Falling out of the noise Into a nourishing silence, The heavy past slides away And blasts apart upon impact - I meet the ground feather light Within the maze of it ruins, Sifting through the heavy shards For a fable or a blessing

Trapped Under January’s cold dead weight I’m alive, in defiance Still afire With love and laughter passed by - In spite of the frozen void Stretching over my mind, The slow creeping devastation Of its crushing solitude - But how can I budge free From this ghost-white reverie And ebb away to be received By a sea of warm colors? - How can I melt away These wide pillars of ice That pin me in place In their encircling gloom?

There's motion in the ice Crumbling to a collective rush, Charging out to sea With years of walled-away rage - The river overflows Out of its mountain prison, Sending the walls crashing down Into a riverbed of skeletons - Replenishing the valleys On its homeward voyage Giving back what's been stalled In the snow for too long - It builds and destroys On its well-meaning journey, In its heartfelt revolt Through a wilderness of ashes

Each year I’m like a sinking stone Among a swell of misdeeds, Weighted with exhaustion As the nightmare’s climb - Cast aside on warm sands To begin again To be claimed by the vines Of the preying unknown - Until the bountiful sea Simmers green with envy, Drawing me into the con Of its calm embrace - To pursue the stars In its nightly ire, Clutching life at midnight As I wade to shore

Words seldom dare to take flight, On the wings of my voice, They hide away in notebooks Echoing in the shadows - In the quiet they thrive With brave and bright colors Reclaiming the years Swallowed whole by sorrow - I sing them out loud In the encircling storms, In the dry and brown swathes Of drought and decay - When I’m paces from slumber Will they ring out the truth, For every fighting heart Trapped in fear and fury?

The lights of December Hold a strange and dismal glow, As the year’s few survivors Recall the loved and lost - Their colorful nights Ebb and flow into the gutters With the late autumn rain As their cold, grim guide - Warm hearts and full stomachs Wrestle with their bitter grief, For the busy lives quieted On the way to winter’s embrace - Every trill and melody Is haunted with the year’s ghosts, Snarled with the rising notes Of each drunken night’s chorus

Do you ever tell yourself stories at night? There curled within the bedcovers safe behind the darkness of closed eyes …do you imagine scenes to build a bridge between the waking world and dreamland? Simple tales perhaps of remembered places from childhood that you might visualize yourself in again while undisturbed or maybe even stories you wish to commit to paper (someday) allowed to frolic on an intangible canvas deep in your imagination until they bloom at an opportune time When my nerves rattle like old windowpanes on a wild windy evening

The poet's wrenched cries of longing Laced with tragic glory Remind me of the days I could be satisfied With absence, emptiness-- Sweet, sharp nothings That lashed my gut And which somehow I still called filling. Fitting now to see I am no longer Content with nothing; Fear does not drive me Quite so readily Into hollow arms, Faceless whispers, Stillborn dreams, Whose power lies In keeping the eyes Fixed on what is impossible So as never to attempt the possible: A disappointing recipe to outskirt all meaningful disappointment. It works, but it does not warm the soul. These days I am more focused on becoming whole. I have summoned my courage to face the Real. Healing is in the everyday, hands and hearts That accompany hour by hour, forthright and fumbling. It is humbling to love and be loved. Yes, I prefer the dirt and dust of love To all the lofty, unlivable castles in the sky. The poet's lascivious sorrow has left my song. I pine not. I hunger no more. I am not afraid of

I'm okay with the commitment part Just hate the dress Ceremonial ambivalence Dream but lack the gall for a pant suit Would prefer a patchwork cloak Something colorful and messy But still nice Or functional And nice Not this white Flag Hanging in my closet

Looking at a question that sparks some interest God and Religion, is there a difference People tend to think they are one of the same Same idea same beliefs, just using different names Well if you want the answer, this is not true There are many facts that separate the two First, there is only one true God Anything else is just a fraud He is the almighty, creator of life From Heaven to earth, to trees to wildlife Now there are many forms of religion Some are different but have the same mission They want to praise and serve the Almighty Obeying his word and preaching to thee Spreading the love of God and his wisdom Now this seems like a pretty nice system This is how to live, it’s pure and awesome But hold up, there’s a major problem Despite spreading the word of God and love Religion was not made by God above It was man who established these rules and laws Unlike God, humanity carries some flaws Man can be manipulated by the devil He can get anyone no matter their level The sneaky