0 - Unfinished poetry 8

Ink


I write in ink, it can’t be changed.
Love it or hate it, you can take it away,
But it can’t be erased, once done never ended.
I have no pretended, only God’s honest truth.

I wrote a thousand, don’t recall a change.
Just page after page of peace, love and rage.
The struggle continues and still I rise...
Thank you Maya, again and a pain,
Is just another reason to write in blood.

Do only good, but do it well.
Oh what the Hell, do it good, bad or ugly.
Just do it til you can’t, your words are free.
They come at no cost and are never a loss.
If you write poetry, then you have the key.

Set yourself free of eternal suffering.
One day you will get the Golden Ring.
The Golden Touch, The Golden Heart.
The lasting love and then you won’t write,
Because your words will be spoken.
Not written down, no spasm, no choking,
Just me and her having a conversation.
Set yourself free on your Honeymoon vacation.

One day you will return and the pages will once more burn,
With fire from your soul, until you are grey and old,
And people will ask when you think you will be done?
When I can’t raise my hand,
See,
Or use my tongue.


(C)2024 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.