You are the Feast

It can be your own mind that makes you trip
Cower and wince in pain
As if there’s a burning oil on your skin, you try to whip it off but you can’t

because it’s inside your head.

Something else poured that oil in
Spreading through inside your arms- not outside, it’s on the other side of your skin

Nobody can see the blisters forming on that side
Except the tears and dark circles of exhaustion around your eyes
You wonder why you can’t make it go away
Its 2018- you should be on top of this, but this toxic burning sensation is an age old poison

Where the only cure is that you survive it through before it kills you

You wanna scream and go wild
There’s a wildfire burning the forest of tranquility in your eyes
But its on the other side.  It’s inside of you. It’s in the world. of you.
Not the world you live in.

Why don’t your tears extinguish the flames
you hold your breath, for as long as it takes- yet the flames continue searing with dark shades of blue

something else poured the oil in, something- or someone, some how

fed the snakes slithering beneath your skin

and now there’s hell dancing in excitement, ready to devour what it has prepared with delicacy.

you are the feast. roasted and rattled.

all inside of your mind.

but something brought it in.  something real, something actual

and part of the world outside.

Advertisements

my nose is caught high on a hook

The pain of thought would have diminished as the excess scent of incense blows away,   leaving the gentle aroma behind.
Instead, I have now tainted my feet and must allow it to heal, as well as to let my hardened tongue to soften and stop oozing the puss of angst and pride.
my nose is caught high on a hook, I’m a display of arrogance and humiliation.
I’ve exhausted my soul of proper recompense, I can only move on to tell myself the tall tale of my belligerence.
Complaining leads to further damnation

It’s when the thorns outgrow and envelope the rose of patience and light.
Taking away the sweet fragrance of forbearance and experience, further expelling the ungrown seeds of wisdom.
Had I been patient and silent, I wouldnt have burned my feet on a road of hot black asphalt, only to find a thorny dead end.
Sometimes, we take our privilege to such an extent that it destroys us.

Apocalyptic Mind

 

 

Courage, Kindness, Forgiveness
These precious gifts to humanity

Faith, Love, Sacrifice
Have we given these up for vanity?

Humility, Respect, Justice
Has greed contaminated our sanity?

Our eyes see none but ourselves
as giving is really a question of receiving

Bounties and blessings fermented into a toxic wine
searing our hearts into the ash of swine
tongues longer than the serpent’s life
devouring all in it’s dark midnight slither
lest the prey wither away

Now as innocence is the fading wisp of sweet incense
Its a fortune to guard and protect against the
suffocating bellows of tornadoes ablaze
on the land of the free

or so you thought

locked under industrial slave-ships of captain Greed-
these plains which we birth our future unto-
waned,
depleted of their right to reign
with forestry and mothering shelter, freedom,
abundance-
no its been traded
no it’s been stolen for relish
too hyper, too eager to wait to
dance on the throne of one only parish

To Be in a Barren Meadow

 when all  at stake seems dreary and steep
and  asks you to take a daring blind  Leap
promising you to be free before the shadows scavenge and creep

It’s at times like these when one wishes to sleep,
to simply drift away, beyond the begotten deep

and have no meek thoughts to eerily keep

nor a shaken heart to grimly weep

except remain lost and unmoving,

in a bleak meadow with nothing
to spitefully reap