Sunday Poetry: On Blank Spaces

let it flow
those words you got
chained to your soul
let em go

the universe is waiting on you
you’re the one
so its told
you’re the one that can set us free
the mold of the king
so mighty is your roar
let us hear it

penetrate our spirits
and enflame our hearts
desolation in the dark
how we need your spark
we’ve been lost for centuries
and its only getting harder
to see where we’re going

so buckle your bootstraps
and sharpen your tongue
when your ink begins to spill
let it  let it run
everywhere
through the broken homes
and the broken souls that litter
our world like lost stars

through every pew
and every backyard backwood back then
high school party
that our parents don’t know about

through the world
and the girl and the lost boys
and all that is unknown
let it run
leave fountains for us

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Sunday Poetry: After The Storm

you were a hurricane
and I was a tornado
wreaking havoc at the same time
ripping through the earth

in different directions
we were never meant
to be together
but the calm breeze fooled us

concealing the storm inside
that was always going to escape
tearing through hearts
with reckless abandon

torn edges and ripped tissue
in the wake
we are what happens
when the love runs out

Sunday Poetry: Ricochet

I can smell the destruction loomimg
it smell like the wrong words
at the wrong time
why the pigs sniffed the slugs
in the stop sign

you see it was a drive by
semi through the brains
left a few stains on the sidewalk
now we can’t walk on the sidewalk

ooh destruction I can smell it
like watermelon
laying in the grass
though days have passed
ain’t nobody picked it up
a few days have passed
but ain’t nobody picked it up

you see a few days ago
a laser show hit the park
with a suprise for the birthday boy
the one that liked watermelon

hot chrome bust lead
knock the seeds out your fruit
I scream ain’t no need to shoot
but those beats be bumpin
so they don’t hear a thing

BANG! BANG!
sharp pain
ears begin to ring
can’t feel a thing
but I can smell something though
its familiar                and fading

Sunday Poetry: Divine Casualty

Don’t be afraid

of the tingling sensations

those are your human parts

letting you know

that they’re still here

 

and that they still have fight left

if you’re willing

even with your heart bleeding

filling puddles so deep

your feet could become memories

 

stand with me

under the tears of the sky

and the pain may wash away

in a tsunami from the heavens

that stutter in your step may be a weapon

 

so pull the trigger

and don’t fear tomorrow

for tonight

the world is in our hands

let’s get to work