Things Not Better Left Unsaid
Monday, October 5, 2020
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Stepping Up
Big steps.
Big shoes.
Big shoes to fill.
I slip and slide as I walk up hill.
Step in, slide out, step in again.
I rise and fall until I win.
My feet will grow with every step.
Every mistake I will intercept,
noted in a book for time to pass
so that new success will have longer last.
My time has come,
old shoes, new fit:
comfortable feel, with brand new wit.
I now shall rise above the bar
to greet the twinkle of my star,
and see the things that I shall do
to taste the journey I will pursue.
Intolerance
I am the center of all knots,
packed tightly,
packed tightly,
to keep myself together.
I am vulnerable to the constant force applied upon my
ends.
I am the liquid that exceeds the rim,
without overflowing.
Like a rubber band,
I am pulled from all sides,
stretched to my maximum capacity
only to condense again.
Eventually the knot will fall flat,
the liquid will spill,
and the rubber band will snap,
like the rage of crying skies
after the clouds have exploded.
Spiritual Disorder
I wake up each day and fail
to take in my Daily Bread.
Then, when I’m at my lowest
I gorge in Your grace.
I’m a free loader, I know.
I’m sick, but that’s no excuse. We all are
frames of dust
to take in my Daily Bread.
Then, when I’m at my lowest
I gorge in Your grace.
I’m a free loader, I know.
I’m sick, but that’s no excuse. We all are
frames of dust
looking for the next best thing
that will keep us
from crumbling.
that will keep us
from crumbling.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Hemophilia
Deep sighs pour a puddle of
dissatisfaction.
Frozen-
thoughts that never move.
My cerebral cortex has made a
permanent association
with you
and this shower of pain.
Silent sobs form a river free of
waterfalls
(the mouth cannot be found).
My heart is leaking,
the throb of my pen consumes me.
My dripping crimson invades the
ink that marks the page.
Stains-
are what you will see when you
read my wounded words.
Brown letters
cracking between horizontal lines
reveal bruises from falling,
for you,
and completely missing your arms.
Sunday Sermon
I enjoy being black
because
I cannot blush
in uncomfortable situations,
like when I’m present in a pew
and the word gay
echoes
from the microphone.
It feels as if all stares
are centered
around me.
I try not to move.
Like an expression withholder,
my face becomes stone.
I clench my teeth and
Pace each
breath
unsure
of how the rest of
the speakers words
will land.
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