Outcast and away from shore,
to the center of still waters,
where rest my tears.
A float, the setting sun
beats its dying light
against my coffin.
Where within lies
my mind in darkness,
afloat amongst the still
waters of my tears.
Confined to a rotting cage of wood,
Time is my mortician,
at the edge of my thought.
The haunting consistency overtakes me,
compromising the process of my existence.
God help me, as the wood
is surely rotting all around me
I shall hold my breath
Just this once and final time.
I have found the haunted wake
past the lens of my sight.
I am the mad man,
within the shell of me
fighting that battle
which I reluctantly wage.
I will wait with my patience,
which with me drowns...
I will await the oak of my coffin to rot,
so that I may break free,
and swim away from my demise beneath,
To the above of my fallen tears
to whatever light remains & awaits me,
in the new world that I will call my own.
A Shade in the FogA Shade in the Fog in Free Verse More Like This
Gazing onward with the wanting eyes,
in search of nostalgia and reminiscence
is the shell of me.
Repression of thus, my depression,
I recall little to nothing at all.
Find me within the fog of my thought,
Shade of my Lord,
for lost am I,
drowning in the murky waters
of my ever fleeting psyche.
The Book of Excerpts: Re-ReformationThe Book of Excerpts: Re-Reformation in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
What is this delusion before me?
This dreadful illusion that I do now see?
I fear such terror from the powers that be...
Those angels above, those demons below.
The Horsemen to come reap and to sew.
I see the once powerful flock, now come so low.
God how I pray this to be but a phase,
To leave this to past and within a haze.
Bring us out of this horrid maze!
Your people stand divided, stumbling forward
To a future cloudy and grim, blinded yet onward.
Power drunken fools,ignorant to your true word.
Give me this life's chance to make due change,
To adjust and assist in this time so strange...
This time in which we must to our ways estrange.
Father, I swear to you, that with my power,
Until my last breath and final hour,
I will restore you and never once cower.
With so many that believe not,
Who never found the proof they ever sought,
I will do what I may, as if never have I fought.
It's Not Delivery, It's Damnation.It's Not Delivery, It's Damnation. in Free Verse More Like This
So long ago began
the ever growing free for all,
The all you can eat,
dog eat dog world,
are the simplistic struggles.
So out of hand,
that solutions become
straight out and down
from the kitchen above,
down the slip n' slide
through the caverns
of mishaps and mistakes,
I bet it tastes like regret,
and the buyer's remorse,
Reap what you sew say
the teeth of the demon,
With every bite sinks
in a shame filled saliva.
"Maybe we'll slow them down!"
Say the so called thinkers...
I can't help but think against them,
but what do I know?
I'm just a common crumb in the trough.
Above Heaven watches,
restricted by the local law
to keep the peace...
nothing is ever done,
but to keep the balance.
The Changing TideThe Changing Tide in Free Verse More Like This
The era is now passed through which I lived and favored,
and my patience then packs its bags for hiatus,
with which to remind me that perhaps
brighter days lie in sunny hammocks ahead.
Here and alas lays the road to that sunny setting,
upon which I walk and tread the changing tide.
The next item on the list of Fates agenda and her passionate affair with time...
the seconds will carry on like the beats of my undying heart.
The fire that burns in my eyes, through which I see is only assuaged
by the tears they produce...
the tears I produce in my longing for some peace of some sort.
Yet those tears shall only accompany the sweat of my efforts.
Once upon a time, in the dream come true through which I slept,
did a fairy tale once existů
that tale of my tale through endless times of a dream come true
and gone by in the era that I once lived and favored.
Only Time Will TellOnly Time Will Tell in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Only time will tell the stories which believe.
The marks of the bottom line are where fate deceive.
The script written as a preemptive strike,
Never read over, improve prevents the rewrite.
Where is she with her smile t light the way through this maze?
Back home, going through her own, counting the days.
With Him above and he below,
My fear to every stepping stone I do bestow.
Only time will tell the stories that I believe!
Only within this fallacy does faith in me not leave.
I beg, I beseech, I plead, I pray for my endless prayer to be heard.
Lest apathy overtakes me without a care...without a word.
The marks on the bottom line are where fate deceive...
So only time will tell me the stories which I believe.
The Journey of a Thousand MilesThe Journey of a Thousand Miles in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
"Lead us on to insomnia's end, Where solitude awaits our weary hearts.
The sustenance required to our souls lies
there in the arms of patience.
Assist us in our wake as prayer affects not our tired limbs upon this journey. These two of your flock die not, as time heals, yet the end of this is welcome. We beg of thee, calling out to the silence into
to which our faith is placed.
The path is dark with black fog of this nocturnal threat. Bring to us, light. As it is now that our dreams are what wither with time, even as they heal. Our exhaustion is only diverted for a short time
by the bond between us.
Pray we that our cries are heard, echoing through the confines to Heaven.
Let not a limit come from malicious source,
to this our angelic breed of passion."
"Right is my love as he suffers my pain by connection, yet where we go, we go together.
Though distance dwindles the pleasure,
the connection has only become longer.
Much I have to say before our Lord in regards to these two hea
Creed of the PatronsCreed of the Patrons in Free Verse More Like This
Meet me where the Gates of Hell should one day fall,
In inspirational vengeance taken upon the dark past of man.
For we are the Left Hand of God,
and we shall fear no evil.
I, a mortal soul, take risk by my very faith,
until seen worthy by the Angelic Host.
For them, I do so adore, that through Grace does my mortal heart,
beat, and my panting lungs breathe.
My faith goes with glory in The Messengers arms to
He upon the Throne of the Trinity.
What I endure grasps attention, yet what I seek out discovers curiosity
within even the Voice of God.
May my every action be a thorn in the side of the enemy's throat,
for he wears a collar of them...
choking tighter with the passing time
as my Savior draws ever closer.
I sacrifice what my sins in three may be in order
to restore a piece of worth to my soul,
for though Grace has found me,
humility is the essence of my being.
My body, mind, and soul are of course my own,
yet are a temple that for the Heavenly Host I protect,
condition, and use in Hi
Made of What We Are.Made of What We Are. in Free Verse More Like This
Endlessly in the end,
shall I let flow the passion.
Our own, the love undying
to the very cadence of Heaven's joy.
This paradise discovered,
that when my heart speaks of you,
with a burning passion,
that right away I write away.
Thank you God, for Anael's gift...
This now love from afar,
to this portrait of perfection
That to I shall return....
To this, my angelic fire,
I am bound forevermore,
by unbreakable vows
to that true sense of belonging...
For this living gift,
Shall I be home in a heartbeat,
to fulfill that elated kiss,
To glorify her in full.
AutobiographyAutobiography in Free Verse More Like This
By Death and a prayer,
Through my tongue
A burning blade into
The hearts of many.
You know me not
But a name and a rumor.
Yes, to the will and way
By which I attempt to live.
Human am I, yet ever so strange.
Far gone, and close to madness
But still am I sane
By Death and a prayer.
Dreams on a BattlefieldDreams on a Battlefield in Free Verse More Like This
Oh sweet sleep, take me away...
Away to the restless worlds
Of my subconscious wonderland.
Unhand me, reality...
let go and set me free.
From soul to psyche,
the visitation of my thoughts
To my warped imagination.
Where both angel and daemon,
Do visit me in my nightly coma
My memory fades from my grasp
with the cold sweat and opening of my eyes,
but I do know better as to the cause by effect.
my visitors wage war
within those restless lands.
As they are and have always been,
By dream or nightmare regardless am I
without doubt in the slightest,
intrigued by such evidence
and presence of the transcendent ones.
I know not the faces but the marks are left.
feathers in air, and hooves in earth.
Found in my perception,
blurred but far from blind,
They have long since fooled me...