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Bloodied Skies

Bloodied Skies

Bloodied Skies:
We all know what lies beneath our wooden beds, the sun dims as skies turn violent red.

Whisper in my ear, follow child for it’s a task of dread, can’t you see I listen but disobey upon what you said.

Close your eyes.
Follow my quiet sighs.
Is it truth or religious lies?

Don’t close your eyes as we walk on water, this ocean wave listens to the man called King and Father.

But under sea level I stare for the angst delivers, don’t call to me, I am bow, useless without the quiver.

Can you dear man see our skies turn bloodied red?

The walkable sea drowns those who sleep in anxious beds.

I thirst for acceptance as you offer calming peace, the one beneath wishes we all step down, violently cease.

Here me speak upon how you once gave lambs spiritual hope, now their uncertain ideology hangs from where we hung our ropes.

I am but a human.
Men and the bones of Women.
Red skies and changing seas.
Truths or Lies, Love or Sin.
I’ll step on water my dear friend.

 

Winter’s Fall

Winter’s Fall

31 Days

Talk is simply not there for my uncertain body language, hard shouts recollect days of home as I contemplate the carnage, past memoirs speak like the tones of future cloudy weeks, they’re in ruins as I lay down the arms and pressure the leaks.

Nothing has given up such shocking views as I pass the river, armor and blood mix with the water which swirls into metallic silver, raise up your hands for you and I, cracks echo as frost gently falls from the sky.

Thunder stretches to the north as fires escape from the lighters, to and from the sun as cries of public applause thank the fighters, swirls of darkness bring me back to the snowy fall months, the mind weakens as bodies are packed into the trunks.

Did I see the gun which resembled you at last, counting of bones crushed between wheels powered by gas, something’s worth dying for as the eyes turn to the air, the snow melts as the ground becomes flooded with scares.

Boots damp as the dead stream sadly by infused with gears, I stand alone as bystanders wish a bullet would pass before my tears, employ yourself to accompany the haunting souls, whispers rush through the camps as my eyes reflect the coals.

Winter has come to bury the actions of my hardening deeds, You and I feel death as blood drips from my knees, the trail seems never ending as I stumble on, shadows of guns kiss trees as clouds forsake the dawn.

Living on as we crash down a slope of snow, distant tongues seem the same as footprints lead on the foe, within my heart I feel something calm and certain, I know the trees shall cover the view as I draw the last curtain.

You place the gun as I press upon the cold metal, snow is crushed as a bullet drops to be settled, I can’t get anymore sighs as memories relax inner frays, the winds are chilly as time seems longer than that thirty one days.

Nostalgic Poetry

Nostalgic Poetry

SLEEP

I seem so out of societal loving surmise, crows scavenge with the beak of deathly suffice, nostalgia whispers crude images of hurtful chances, my impression broken and crippled from the modernity stances.

There I lay visiting scenes of hopeful acception, but to you windows spin of ones mindful perception, complex gazes swoon loving hearts, but doubt can arise from our broken parts.

We were the guided few so intangible like sunrise’s sky, now my future collapses as in the bed I lie, nervous for the dark like a child who’s mother turns off the lights, bewilderment sighs as time rocks me to smiling brighter sights.

Only things of happy accord sharpen the realistic pain, but forget the past as like reverie I stay forgotten sane, sleep is fantasy for my approving desires, to me there are no towering binding wires.

I know the style of when to paint a recollection, in a blurry perplexing talk of hopeful connection, underneath the white cloudy deceiving charm, is a restive mind of multiplying harm.

Voices go according to my sensible disclose, skipping now I panic as the weeping man tearfully sews, keep me here is the pleading cry of showering doubt, but nothingness vanishes as has my immanent shout.

Keep me tied to this momentary idea of place, holding hands temporally through continual space, black hands seize the grasp of false bliss, to awake from love with a weighing kiss.

Looking to the clock I sigh as you stay in the dream, but to wait another day is the  forever recurring theme, time sails past the deterioating aspirational leap, I enter oblivion with you as I gently voluntarily sleep.

First Poetry Post

First Poetry Post

CIGARETTE

Do you see my loving hunch dear Mary Anne, English winds blow kisses as the wheels collide against the land, seeking peace and serenity is such a hopeful yearn, eyes flash smiles as the engine takes yet another turn.

Hair blown back as the hills crumble and vanish from our view, considerate inner awakening begins as the eye sees something anew, collect all your troubling thoughts into a bag, the backseat widens as I jokingly smile and lovingly nag.

Tell the angst and frustration to mellow my dear, remember that night we planned out to stop our controlling fear, enjoy this breeze as I look back to contemplate, the rush of my heart steals air as I hope for our searching fate.

Looks of trust are what many couples lose behind the bar, drinks a many as one less couple travels by the spontaneous car, pebbles and grassy fields roam endless here at England’s garden, meeting of locals as chivalry continues with a hello and pardon.

We’ve passed many storms as we continue to drive longingly on, the front seat seems real compared to life’s recurring con, memories do stick with me as the end seems wanted, I look to you as those memories fade which were once haunted.

Stopping between intersections and crossings, the animals roam as a sign says beware of goslings, villages race past the windows as you stare back into the mirror, visions of the future bring you back as you hope for when we’ll be nearer.

Pressing of the brake smoothly ends the cycling rim, you hug me as you teasingly ask the beard to be trimmed, just keep telling yourself the world never ceases on hopeful loving care, unsure you are as I kiss and brush away that colorful indifferent hair.

It’s not the same as I relax against the sun basking car, I hold you in my arms as sea stretches from the rocks to afar, lighter in your hand as we kiss and laugh within the sunset, bring forth the fire Mary Anne as I yet again light another cigarette.