without your eyes in my darkness,
i am gone blind.
without your tongue on my desire,
my heart stops beating….
without your wetness on my prayers,
my god is dead!
without your moan in my stillness,
even the tomb is harsh and cold.
without your kiss upon my freedom,
everywhere i look…
bars, and more bars!
Similar Posts
it is embarrassing to me
or any country, whereacts of prejudice andracial hatred are still committedon a regular basis…where people can run for office,and win, backed by the dollarsof prejudice….where minorities, children,and women are treatedwith disrespect….where the elite 10% are filthy rich,and are not taxed! …while many of us go without food,housing, or medical care…where our children are shippedoff to…
the most beautiful
the bringer of life,the cup of the sensual.the wings of the spiritual…the earth wrapped in flesh.gentleness in mortal rain.the body of the heart.the mystical, the enchanted,the song of all being….to be honored, respected…to walk beside!
god is the moment you stop to listen,
the time you spend walking beside,the last bite, the last dollar, you share.the day you take the time to care,every small act of kindness.the tears you weep with,the lonliness you fill…the cup of water, the gentle caress.the hands on your neighbor’s shovel,the stand you take though ridiculed.the honesty that wears your failures,and embraces the failures…
the body lowered in the grave,
and the list of things to do,falls from the dresser to the floor.yesterdays, all that remain,tomorrow never came.both the candle,and the book of matches,turn away!the lips set firm and cold,never to kiss again.eyes closed and locked like doorsthat no one has the key to.the heart wrapped in brown paper,put away in a forgotten closet.and the…
this body has to die,
for this spirit to step free,and remember who it ‘is’…we borrow urns for the journey,but urns are not the journey.and pots made of clay,cannot hold oceans forever.the dance of death,smells of womb, and depth…the hidden name,sets paper walls ablaze.the kiss of death’s lips,turns great trees toward winter.leaving stains in the snow…ah, but more snow will…
sexual whispers
the dirt and the failures,and the phone not answered.the fireplace gone cold,the trees stripped bare….the blare of the news,cutting deep to the quick.the anger, and the lostness,without direction or virtue.dust on the Bible,a box of shells by the bed.sexual whispers,or just memories, and need!