Poems 4/25

Untitled 1

What is the role of anguish in our experience?

The chest heaves in and out

As we swim in sorrowful syrups

Ghouls of the present threaten to take us under

Forever

Like the sun grasped by the grip of the gray

When will my light break forth?

To stab, kill, eradicate the regrets and the shame

Please Lord, I have no one to take me from this pool

To be raised is easy, to walk is the task.

Untitled 2

His silent gaze

Grazes not, but penetrates

One can see why the ark’s handlers

Would sooner disintegrate 

Than assimilate to the immaterial 

Untouchable, but far from ethereal

Too grounded in the senses

Pulled from the shore

Blurry lenses from being overwhelmed by oceans of insight

Live to fight another day 

Wrestling the creator of midnight

Untitled 3

What if I’ve already come to hero’s end

Only to discover I’m around the bend

Lacking waypoints, guidance

Fruitless pursuist, remaining childless

It’s childish to muse as if wisdom isn’t news

A direction true to follow

Even when I’m not getting views

On the impressions of good expressions

Or when I get bruised

Tookie behind bars, instead of singing the blues

Bloody hands barb together bars

Words to expose the next gen to the stars

From Z to alpha, they often leave no clues

But the cross upon my back allows me to choose life

While suffering the other thing

People like: how many mixed tidings can one brother bring

He be othered so much, how his fruit not othering

And caught such smoke that his scent should be smothering

Simply stuck the ruler’s hem

Yet somehow he’s governing

How this loveless motherfucker

Create these loverlings

Vulnerably, no covering 

Waiting for the move of power

As the Spirit stays hovering

Crushed eyes and a bruised ego

He stares at the end

Understanding his path

Is where others begin