What brings the soul of a man
Deep within the palm of his hand?
For I have seen two men astray
Neither I tried to save.
In the grace of our Gods
We stand before each war we fought
Did we strike the hammer strong
Or lose out before our lungs
Belted loud our souls devout.
Have I faced the pain inside?
Did I let my body cry?
Was it I who charged ahead
Though each wind spoke up in dread?
Tell me sweetly in my good ear
Was I faithful to each your dream
Can I be the trusted man
Of your every step?
For I hold my palms open
To feel the warmth of every day
I have spoken out your name
In hopes it leads my heart so true
And if it shall bring my life astray
May I be the man to say
My palms are wet.
Tag: lung
My Fire (day 2725)
I’m not singing for my lungs
Though they burn with desire,
No, the sweetness has left me hoarse
That burns like whipping dirt
Blowing about this barren desert.
It used to come in fits
Where I’d collapse in imagined euphoria
I had never before experienced.
My dreams lay me still here,
Though I cry out
With the neighbours howling hound,
As singing awaits
Within the embers of my soul
My fire remain unconvinced
That this landscape
Deserves such escape.
I Really Want To (day 2155)
I really want to
I really feel like finding the motivation inside,
To reach out and scream,
To run until my lungs are burning
And life’s pain ceases to hinder me.
I want to jump and swing
And yell like a charging elephant
With my eyes glaring down
Doers of injustice.
I want to slam my fists in to walls
And flip over tables that seem impossibly immobile
Tearing down pictures
Smashing plates and pottery.
I really feel like seeing red,
But then I remember how delicately precious
Life’s wings are
As I watch a bird fly by,
As I catch the sun setting
Leaving behind a gentle golden gradient
Filling my eyes and heart
Until my inhale matches my exhale
And my toes tingle happily at peace.
Asked to be An Angel Again (day 1813)
I was asked to become a guardian
Down low, down low, in a bottom of mud.
Too late, I said,
Coughing and excusing myself;
Toxicity had taken control
Of my asthma, uncontrollably
Letting my lungs flank
Sides of this yellow pole.
I smiled nicely
At the man who said something,
But to him, I wasn’t listening,
I was to busy snoring.
Excuse me, I said,
Under my breath
And a fly came and landed
Above my head,
So I moved on again, up high, up high.
Awake Art (day 1583)
This is my awake art.
This is breath and stretching loudly
While pouring everything strong
Into a collapsed set of lungs
To be prepared for an avalanche
Of oncoming strategies
And cross-hooks
Set to dazzle
Even the most magnificent of
Gentleman preachers
Standing atop
Wooden keg soapboxes.
The Back Of the Book (day 896)
Why does the world have to die like this
An endless jaunt through crowded parks
Heartaches that climb up through the heart
Passed by breath from lung to lung
Lumping into salivial glands
Memories that remind innocence
How far time that’s yet to come
Has left them remembering why
An arrow has never remained straight
Lapping at the oceans edge
Each star, remaining a soul
Holding onto an unforgotten memory
Never understood, never accepted
Never wanted and hoped against
Battling with unending tests
I cry for this moment
For this death that whispers to all of us
Screeching to a halt in accidental disarray
I am not a cause for understanding
Victimless and harmless and misunderstood
So remind me of an arching smile
Radiating eyes and hugs that last too long
Leave me remembering what will never again be
Again, a lost answer in the back of the book
A scribbled name in hasty mischief
Tears running below my chin
Death so close I can touch it
A hurt longing for the tips of my toes
The soul hovering
As a chance of love and heartache and an unending story