Roses

What are roses without their thorns
except that of their petals so soft
awaiting to blossom so bright
a token for a smile
plucked as to be sacrificed for love
they fight and scratch the battle
they are tools of messengers
Your fingers drip red with blood
a vase to place this creature
it crawls inside its outer petals
Scared in anticipation it sits
you pour water like mercy
it rains down along its vein
you take it to your love
with the gentle brush of her
fingers along its face
it turns to stone and brakes
she cries you comfort her
the rose turns to ash and thickens
she smiles, what for though?
she pours the mixture into her hands
and molds you a rose
A rose without thorns
A rose of opportunity
A rose of chance
A smile is born, strong it stands

The Pitt

To be dragged face down trying to grasp the floor, reaching out for any leverage hoping to find your chance. Sliding quickly towards a deep black hole. Sucked into gaping mouth and made thirsty by its quenching need. Falling fast lost in the feel of empty sky. Scared anticipating the crash of your body upon the hard surface of the ground. deep into the bottom of this Pitt waiting to splatter your blood and pool out your soul in this dark hall. Blinded you lose concept of up and down, lost you sleep. And he waits. With his heart beating louder than air in guilt his eyes lay sweat upon his face. With a smirk like non other he stands there out of breath. His hands straight down the sides of his rugged body clinched in fists of weary, such an act so uncannily manipulated all but for his fury. Nerves of lightning strike through his veins in up most terror. so much to say a crime of passion. And as he stands red it rains in such a loud fashion. he hears nothing but the echo of his dripping fingers. and although it drips thick from his hands, remorse and regret are absent, and all alone he stands. For he has done no wrong but put a beast to sleep. Forever it will stay and yet never will it weep. For he knows hes done no wrong but release the beast in me.

The Maui Beaches

Like the leaves of a healthy palm clashing in the wind, the waves of azure beaches crash on golden shores. Like the breath of fresh air from somewhere never been. Like the calm crisp clouds against the deep blue sky, the breaking waves crash right on by. Just as the sun comes up with every waking breath the sun goes down to set before we rest. Its the way our fists relax from the tension and stress how hibiscus blossoms clean an angry mess. Like a thousand angels diving into the steepest lives, the water falls gracefully and never asks why. Like nothing ever known before we look back and could never ask for more.

The Blue Jay

Sitting under an autumn tree with the wind in my hair and the leaves in the cold breeze. Looking out at life and watching as the birds pass me by. There is a sweet warm sensation of hope for one day someone will sit by me under this old autumn tree. If only I could reach out to them like the leaves or fly out to them like the birds. So gentle and quiet it is, so strong and yet so alone like me. For I am a blue jay and they are all sparrows.

Lost but we don't know

What are the pieces of inspiration that configure Resilience. So desperate for help we conjure such imaginative things. Lost but we don't know. Deserted we beg for hope. Resistant to the hostile. Hungry for the strong. But lost still in the needless inquiry that one day things will change. Oh such imaginative things. Naive we act like we know of nothing else, so much to be revised. So little left for time. We forget to recognize our personal surroundings and allow worry to overcome and encase our very bodies as if to be condemned into dragging the weight of another. So forgetful we are, but we mean not to hurt. Our intentions are a wander, as heavy as the pounds we so ignorantly drag. And we are quiet but we are sorry, we just cant find the words, we are lost. Lost but we don't know. We are wrong but we haven't learned for we are not to be taught. But we are sorry. We mistake and confuse love for warmth like dogs that beg for food. Upset by hunger confused by the masters greed. Jealous by instinct but we mean no harm. How do we cope when those we love are so blind and lost. But to learn and be taught to find hope in the darkest crevices of passion. Everything happens for a reason, you just have to find the why. And know its meant to happen. Some way or another this “why” will become a because and it will be required to find your way.