Each month, write a new collection.
When the sun goes downAnd my son goes down.It is when I lay next to him,Heavy breathing and stillness,That I witness my child's peace.I am reminded of our creator.I am calmed by his serenity.Breathing in his innocence As another day becomes night...
i like the repetition of "goes down." that works great.
"breathing in his innocence" beautiful. I like the internal rhyme (if that's the right term)
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I actually like themYellow — the color of danger —(My friend Sabine wrote a whole bookAbout that) telling you to watch yourStep and/or to slow down your vehicleOr you’ll hit your head on the ceilingOf your car and that of your passengerIf she’s not paying attention. The visible obstacles are fine. It’s the ones I carry insideThat worry me.
Nice. I like your work. "it's the ones I carry inside"
Here i am againOn my kneesMy eyes are closedMy hands are lockedI resist the urgeTo check the clock The moments passOn my kneesMy heart is openMy cheeks have streaksI wait with patienceTill my God speaksThe silence is calmingOn my kneesMy problem is persistentBut my soul is sublimeFor all miracles happenIn His perfect time.
Speed Bump on the Road to BlissIt’s been five years since I saw their eyes: one set green, one set blue. It’s been five years since I saw them smile or heard them laugh. For 60 months I’ve held my breath. For four years and seven months I haven’t picked up a glass of wine, I haven’t taken a puff of weed.Their silence invades my sleep, it invades my wake. Their silence is a virus I can’t shake, I feel the wrinkles deepen around my eyes. All this “holding my breath,” and sleep invasion is one big wheel that grinds me down.A wolf inside me howls.And yet, something ancient in me understands until I learn that the bump is the bliss, I will not have awakened. I will not have loved. I will not have lived.
Wow this really speaks to meA wolf inside me howlsLove the way you break down passing time
Breathing sweet. Dates in line. List checked off.Check the checkbook.Beguiling bills.Grovel to a stop.
Grovel to a stop. Nice.
Bump in the RoadResponsible for myselfAway from radical behaviorI was a young manNever doing what was rightAlways a rebelFollowing no adviceI had a thirst for dangerBut it was more seen as an adventureWithout the consequencesIn the back of my mindWanting attentionBut never quite getting the loveFrom my parentsThough they meant wellThey were on a trip of their ownTo find their own happinessI found mineIn my drug of choiceA false sense of securityBeing on the edge of oblivionTo find I came through the gauntletAshamed and rewarded by my survivalI took that first bong load and loved The smoke swirling into the airAs I exhaledThe inebriated insultAt the worldI was aloneYet I found myself with friendsOf the same congregationThe steps to freedom existing onlyIn the unrealThe fallacy of what reality was Suppose to bringA responsibilityFor myselfAs a sense of confusion tugged at meHaving my dad pull for meAnd my mom on the other sideThe dark rebellious nature Of the wonton lifestyleI took my dreams and dashed themHead long into a wall of the addictiveRelationship I had with drugsNow I seeThe world around meSwelling with the sameAbsolute neglectFor the seriousness of the deviceThe drugNot a sober lifeBut a freedom with Defect for the drugAs a friend with its benefitsNot outweighing the risksBeing the attitude towards carelessnessPulling the strings like a childWanting the parent to see me and loveOnly to find the drug escaping realityShaping a form into a fantasyOf the mindWhat is bliss?WithoutHappiness It is addicted to a false friendA wayward nomad to nowhereA wind which has no stillnessAnd a mind without a brainWhat of the world Does caring about lifeCalling the friend reality Matter any more?Responsible for myself That is my blissThe road bumpIs my mindWanting to controlWanting to loveWhen I have not looked Into the mirrorI have everythingMy heartMy mindThe love for myselfAnd the world So let the bleeding take Charge of their own growthAnd let mine Be in peaceTo love while I am alive and waiting For a better timeIn a land where the fruitCan only be pickedWith the Clean spirit