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These broken wings aloft fail to bring
instead a grounded waste of angelic grace
bringer of laughter was once fortunes offering
now in soils cracked parchment is my name written
none remembering blessings from my heart
Once a voice of glory to sing
Rasp now in tortured studder filled distaste
only the messenger of pain salted suffering
leaving infection and rot where I've bitten
assemblage around me of lives torn apart
These demons inside me proclaim my soul king
dwell in the refuse of kindness I waste
infesting the whole of what I'm becoming
removing loves residue now its forbidden
A farewell to feelings in bitter repart
far from me better are those who are smart
There is seldom a place of reflection in time
River of thought flowing unimpeeded by the rooted stones of life
No sanctuary clothed in Falls painted death
But when these moments take a soul into embrace, then do poems form
Such silent revolution does the mind breath in
Inhale the scent of creation before winds icy fingers crush
Break the hold of the missing sirens song in my head
Only to find.....no Love in this Muse
These debris strewn halls of play
Childrens footprints marking paths of joy
Puppys stuffed in China to hug someones baby
Frowning child of labor sewing this toy
Unaware of smiles on the face of my boy
A thousand pieces of my shattered soul
spread upon this bloodied ground
anothers mind to make this puzzle whole
and pray the missing shards are found
__________________
Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha
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