When the Soul Cried Out for Meaning
Like the addict there's a craving, appetite for the need. Fantasies thriving, irritation for greed. Summon a resistant, so stunning too weak. Redolence, sweet, oh to taste the red apple treat. Call on divinity, interrogate the same faith, inside demand, so unsafe. Whirlwinds, wisp a whisper, of a needing inducing sin, ferocious, the conflict within.
Feels like I've been here so long. So I strain to think back, to when things weren't so wrong. But all I see is my hands cuffed in a sweatbox. So I strive even harder, trying to forget about locks. No! I'm in a cold court cell and like a scared snail, I retreat alone into my shell. Still thinking. endeavouring to remember. All I can see is a man in a wig, dictating my future, how I am going to live. 'Stand up! Sit down!' Fixed on thinking It's causing me to frown. And then, I remember! the girls! the beach! the sun! back in the days when it was fun. Attempting to stay in this memory, until this time has past. Getting there, can't come too fast.
She was tequila rose, he the Lynchburg oak. She said more with one look, than any word she spoke. Warmth, emancipated by her soul, melts away at the snow. Revealing a taste of what all want to know.
She asked if anyone was sitting there, gladly and invitingly I said 'no'. Her look was beautiful, a bedazzling smile, advancing something inside of me. There was dialog but I forgot her elegance I did not.
A deep herd of uncontrollable wild, galloping white-maned monsters. Stampeding ruthlessly through smashing, damaging and consuming structures of man. Ragefully and merclesley crashing with great might. Frizzling paled threight boulders not slowing but speeding installing fear, into the heart of mankind. Powerful pearly mountain waves gracefully destroying. Destroying the illusion we are greater than Him?
There used to be this gorilla, in Southport zoo! And what a grumpy gorilla, he was too. Sit all day behind that dirty rotten screen. All the kids would bang, pull faces, quite frankly, be mean. How I used to wind that poor gorilla up, eating, sleeping, shitting in that hut. It was 1991 or maybe two. It's now many years later, an I'm the gorilla in the zoo! Eating, sleeping, shitting in this cell. But it's screws not kids giving me the hell. A squandered life that should be blessed. I knew why, that poor gorilla, couldn't even have guessed.
The enemy came raging, waging war on us all. with no defence, for us they did not stall. Destroying from inside, our cells as it's host, in their bravery we heard no boast. Angels of mercy we are grateful for your grit, the nations indebted, you make each proud to be a Brit. In this conflict you are our frontline, the countries very best at this critical time. We were hit with force , so stay in, so they can stay on course. Do your bit whilst they go the extra yard, they will soon be doted but for now they strike hard. Please equip them properly with every piece, so they can smash us to victory like Stokes is at the crease.
I am unsure why, when I'm alone in this cell,
I start to dwell, on heaven and hell.
Much I have lost within these four walls,
lost, gone, insignificant to all.
Wanting right now, as my mind is dense.
In this hole, this hole of belligerence.
Salvation from above can it really rescue me?
before my soul drowns, in this adversity.
The ringing of despair cannons of every wall.
with night after night of solitude
I get so dazed, and confused with it all.
However, my heart knows there is more,
So I turn to the cross.
And the mercy of God I do pray for.
So on this perilous path, however unsafe.
I will drip away this stone, I will always keep faith.
We lent my old mans truck filled that monster up,
and headed southwest across the border.
In wellington wet walks your face shone a smile.
With red wine and firelight
I know a part of heaven my eyes have seen.
Raindrops on the ifor ping, in Swallow falls
I am aware love is strong.
I am here whether right or wrong.
In a poem, in a kiss,
right now there isn't anything I miss.
I could hold you here forever
but for now that will do.
Best thing about me here is you.
These waters constrain our memories of Lapa
and the way their ancient falls
sparkled from your eyes.
We were lost in those mountains
but we found ourselves dancing
in the garden of angels
with just grape vine for shelter.
I whispered a prayer into the warm night air,
you laughed, I dropped to my knees
I smiled at how beautiful you looked
in the candle light.
I will sleep peacefully with these thoughts
in my old mans truck.
Through the window and next to me graciously landing a flawless white feather. Like on the morning of her funeral with the same strength forcing me to pause, calmly, needing no applause. Reassurance those armies he built are falling. Pirouettes in the breeze there all along even when I was crawling. Alas a resistance of a campaign of struggle spoken was the truth, verity, an end. Brings a platitude of power, like poems for a friend. I was close to death but those closer. A messenger of God even Michael much more than a carer. Remembering prayers of trust not tainted with why. Nazareth be nigh! High into the mystic I soar. Attend and hear observe and behold, digest the trumpets and wait for Gabriel, pronouncing durability into the unstable. I drop, arms stretched into the smoke that thunders, soaked in love I resurface with the skulls of kings. I have faith in the one He sent and I accept what this feather of paradise brings.
Smith Shine Poetry