Friday, September 20, 2019

Quiet for the Morning
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It’s quiet these days, awaiting the other shoe’s blues to ring true
Me, I sing em too, but softly, like a voice subdued
Im glued to the notion that the ripple from the fall will undo
The cause and effect, defects, infecting the decisions I always choose
But you see right through, a cascade of bruises that are there but don’t show
You know how to strike, like a flint skips to lighter fluid, ignites with a hollow glow
Feel it deep below my skin, beginning to spread, like flame to fuel, and I know
That this quiet is pervasive, contagious, elegiac and abrasive, like rust on the soul
I bring nothing to the morning, it’s sun shining brighter in some inside joke
The latch on this door, cracked frame, holds nothing in or out, even if its not broke
Watch the intense point of the suns rays trigger kindling to simmer and smoke
And through these doors, unhinged, I chew heavy on words so as not to choke


Wednesday, September 18, 2019

Recollection

I remember the steady flow
rabble rouser battling from head to toe
saying set me free but dont let me go
hoping the break is clean as the ax is thrown
I spark like flint when the pressures on
a diamond in the rough, yeah those heads'll nod
they know i dont shimmer but im worth bettin on
so lay your money down, watch me ramble on
a snake in the bush dont have much to say
just lie in wait so patiently for his prey
hoping a wayward soul will simply lose his way
cause when it does man there is no need to pray
knelt in the pew, in an empty church
my back is bent like a winter birch
frozen cold components that i need to nurse
but sheltered in the warmth, man it could be worse
i could be somewhere lying in a shallow grave
so criminal that even the lord won't save
the western wind whips striking me like a wave
trying to stand, you watch as my body cave
the crest of the ridge asks the sun what are you hiding from
but soon those shafts of light beaming from the rising sun
splinter the sky, belie it's hidden nature as it climbs each wrung
and soon the ridge disappears in its shadow look what its become
I remember my steady flow
calm as the morning before the wind would blow
saying don't tell me but begging that you need to know
knowing the seed is sewn and hoping that it'll grow