Poet Introduction What a great way to show how creative you can be. Me being a poet is like being in a different world an escape. It's healthy really one of my many outlets. †I look forward to expressing more how I feel through my work. To relate & share also.
Woke up to the spray of guns in the streets. Angry over false accusations peoples actions were unjustified. Buildings built for a dream. Woke up to a real life nightmare. Stir crazy in the mist of the unclaimed violence people cried because things were not fair. Sweats in their sleep . Eyes peeled to make sure they survive the night. Flames lit upon the town.
Goodbye. Iíll definitely be meeting you again. Trouble could be in your name. From what I know and how youíve acted itís not usually for me. But somehow can we meet again? Through mutual friends we could be properly introduced. True. What is true is how I end up where you are. Tell me what you hear from my voice. Leaving. You stopped to make sure it was me. Didnít you? I saw you stop. Frozen to vent or get somewhere. Not really into those dramas so I ignore that and just focus on your beauty.
In this mystical arena there will be no mask just truths .Ē (- The Quest) Test beyond all test the face of fear is here. This could be your end. How long can you hold the expectations of victory? Pure this is the purest. For a few moments you are not yourself. How hard you trained will mark the success of your expression. This is how we feed the animal. Or allow our demons to swim. This is release. This is why Iím forever married to the arena.
Thought about this. Writing makes more since to explain. Lived in a small town it seemed there would be nobody else. Comfortable itís all we knew. Anyone who would come in to threaten this Iíd save us from it. Isolated there seemed to be no other way with us. Bored of the safety sometimes she strayed away to find danger. That danger is not in me. Youíd come back from time to time but never remaining the same. A piece of you was taken each time you disappeared. I never thought Iíd move on. She remains †engraved in my mind. Memories...
Couldnít hardly sleep. Anticipating the warm orange skies Florida has. Left for you in the dark of night. Only to appear in front of you just steps off the plane. Palm trees blind my views. No such regrets are going to exist. Luggage burns and make our arms tired. This is the type of pain I live and work for. Standing eternity has passed me. Never will I forget such a time. Music soaks in the moments in this new place. Iíll be there again.
Pushed off the edge in a way that involves no falling. Sitting or standing focused on releasing all trained. Discipline holds on tight to the rage. Patience remains a thin line. A line forever raging as long as the heart beats. Like the string of a candle it burns only to melt inside. Pressured to fame this is far beyond fame. Those long ago died at our living cost. We move disrespectfully playing. Morals become toys. Grounds we walk were once the heat of battle. For the freedom we now have. As our feet walk and run invisible smoke...
Woke up with such an undeserving anger towards those whoíve wronged me again. Discipline has forced me to feel all the mistakes they make. Effortless Iím no good punisher. Karma comes to the one whoever wronged you. What they do to you they will do to whoever is close to them in time. Theyíll burn everyone eventually. I wait only to see action now. Justice reacts a bit slower. To pray upon the worse you only hurt yourself. Sit back and force focus.
Questions arise that you wonít like the answers. The truth of how some of us are. Born from trials some wouldnít think to dream. Storms set inside waiting to erupt. The lion has to hunt to survive and feed his skillful desire. Contained the lion only reacts to violent chaos. Not your ordinary cat .
Only to begin again. Request for more then the time before. Thatís just the mind thinking out loud. Satisfied with the reasoning. Soothing evening and night for two. Like many two souls not knowing if their wants are true. Moments so critical are bigger then us. The sky will never fall the same again. Tomorrow already erased it.
Older some fade backwards to the younger times. Chaotic not knowing what the present holds. Was that ever important? What made its way into our heads before. What caused anger now and before? Is it how people treat you? Is it that youíre paying attention to what others do? What lesson will someone get from your best revenge? What are you giving up? Tired cause youíre forced to stand while youíre sitting.
One mood hangs over him like a cloud of rain. The prolific hollow stoic gaze. In the mist of seasons in a crowd he walks. Evidence shows there are people present but Michael stares alone. Years pass and the motive burns the same never to become grown. Aging his colors turn grey but the motive keeps him active. Is it such a false tone to chase this history like it can be written?
I see a lot of people weak. Weak about little things. Worried about what others think. Worried about what others have said. Deep down would you really allow anyone to get you down? If you ask me if you do youíre a fool. This life we live is free but our short time makes our worth so expensive. Spend your efforts and energy wisely. The end could be costly.