A Lost Mans Worries

A lost mans worries 

What happens when the moon goes behind the clouds

Does it rest 

A days work deserves a nights chore 

The suspense of disbelief 

Reflecting only what shares its light 

The sun or the son

Basic dialogue that gasp at the beast I refuse to believe exist 

A cannon of thoughts haphazardly tilted in the direction of my imagination 

Eyes that refuse to squint 

An obscured destination of progress 

Elements I refuse to accept

Resist 

The texture of the situation

Course 

The River Speaks

On my way home I stopped by the river
Thought I'd catch some wisdom floating down stream
A peace of mind
Its direction of flow was understood and not up for discussion
I spoke loud and clear to its murky complexion
Wondering if my words penetrated its unstable surface
Curiously judging its depths
Then it dawned on me
This rush of high quality H2O was a sign of hope
Making its way around bends and turns
Highs and lows
In search of its final destination

I likened it to life
A psychological journal of entries based with emotion
Seasonded with experiences
Watered down with excuses
Night then day
Just as sure as morning comes
I'm reminded that the future is inevitable
Delicate, fragile, and should be handled with care
My destiny awaits
No favorites
It's fair
As it's rebellious currents influenced by climate crash into the banks which stand on guard
The river spoke loud in clear
Swift and sincere
Keep on living
Your direction is not up for discussion.

Just Words

What's pain without a story
Half moons help track the days
Sunshine
Head on collisions with the shore
The waves
Emotions that pursue thoughts
Coast line to coast line
Blind folded races toward the horizon
Back in forth motion
Ash from burnt logs
Journal entries
Lyrical lotion for dehydrated responses to this lost art
Just words they say
Feelings that call sleeves home
Fingers that speak without talking
Pointing out fault
Ideas with passports
No legs
But walking
Pen ink attacking the lines on paper
Battery
Words you refuse to hear
Poetic assault on your ear drum
I lust in its harmony
The mind is it's own place
If these are just words I'll continue to take them with me.

Whatcha Call It?

A drug that help is unfamiliar with
Dangerous if used with the wrong intention in mind
Loose lips that recklessly rewrite the origin of its meaning
It hibernates in my heart
I use the verbal form of it from time to time
The decision is mine
I speak it with my chest
Proud to call it mine
The utterance of it in the form of a whisper send chills up and down ones spine
It matures like  immature  wine over the years
Travels in and out of season like trees
It's color varies like the warm and soft earth tones of leaves
A postal stamp on a relationship
It's public perception creates a buzz that rivals bees
It begs for attention
Please please please

It has no desire to be minimized to narrow comparison
It's that determination to carry on with a cycle
No hesitation
Mocking the track record of the Moon faithfully following the Suns lead
That stone that holds the stoop
That seed planted on the banks is only as strong as it's roots
Shall not be moved
If used properly
Last will be first, perhaps running a race alone
Filled with random taste
You would swear you heard it in a song
Neither right or wrong like life it carries on
Love!