Time

An object so steady, can give such a rush
when I think I’m ready, to give life a hush
by closing my eyes and drifting to find
I am in a dream, where thoughts are so free.

The sound from a toy, that was made for more
will chime to remind, I am meant to find
the want to achieve, the goals I have seen
that keep me investing, until I am resting.

As I will live, this object will age
without ever showing a sign of decay.

Only the change, that comes with a season
will ever give reason, this object exists.

The way life will form, until it’s deceased
is the only way, I think it finds peace.

It’s always so busy, being so steady
we are never ready to say it will stop
from doing it’s norm of flowing unseen
until there’s a day, the normal is dead.

It is never sad, it is never mad
it is never happy, or even too sappy
it is only constant with doing its chore
of passing the time; it is such a trait, I truly admire.

Overcome

A lesson that lessens the joy one can feel
is trouble that bubbles until it is real.

Anger should always be only a stranger,
yet sometimes the mind can be caught in this danger.

Finding a way to stay happy and play
will always remain the one best way to stay.

Not the false smile that tastes like its bile,
only the twinkle that comes the wrinkle
of happiness’ face that will never give waste
is the way to remain if one wants to be sane.

Once the fun gift of controlling the shift
that can happen when piles of steamy brown stuff
have been tamed by the brain that remains in the game,
life is the reason joy’s always in season.

I used to think…

I used to think insects were mindless creatures,
until I saw one go to sleep.

I used to think women were impossible to understand,
until I spoke with a woman; not a girl.

I used to think age determined maturity,
until a child taught me a lesson.

I used to think there was a such thing as common sense,
until I went into the world.

I used to think being gay was a choice,
until I met a gay man.

There isn’t any reason to kill someone,
until life is threatened by that person.

Life is unfair,
until I saw others going through the same things in their own way.

Love is a term that everyone knows,
until someone showed me there are different interpretations.

Sex is only to be shared between two lovers,
until my heart was broken.

Death is something that we can move on from quickly,
until death showed me its presence.

Meditation is only for hippies and is a waste of time,
until I found myself.

Utopia’s are only a distant dream,
until a wealthy man talked with me.

Racism is a distant problem,
until an officer showed me otherwise.

Nature is a defenseless creature that only loves,
until natural disasters wipe out multitudes of people.

Music doesn’t mean too much,
until I heard music.

I used to think that I’m just a weird person,
that one may be true.

 

 

Beauty Within Music

There’s a certain musical artists that grabs the heart within my ears with every one of their songs.  I’ve always loved this artist’s music since the first time it’s heavenly embrace wrapped around my soul’s desire for something uplifting to listen to a couple of years ago.  So as a tribute, or a thank you, for this artist continuing to strive for their dreams, I write this poem.  It shouldn’t be hard to know who I’m talking about if you know their music.  Let’s see if you can figure it out before it’s revealed in the poem. 🙂

Stars align within my soul
as I indulge upon the gold
from every string that gives the sing
to let me know how beauty rings.

Such precision in each stroke
helps keep the chords from painful cries
because this art compounds its rise
until my heart is crystallized
within the shards of floating snow
that never has the sting of cold
instead it has the warmth of know
by showing how the seasons glow.

Spinning me within her web
is how she keeps me from the death
that comes when ears no longer wish
to let the world kiss on their hairs
and give the sound of all their cares
instead of being cursed with itch
that makes me want to do a heist
by giving life a tainted spice.

The cosmic light of every show
will dance and prance within the trance
that spins me up and gives the glow
of radiating peace to know
that such a flow of all her soul
within the instrument she throws
gives every wish that I could free
and has me praying shatter me.

All the skill she does possess
has let me know she is so blessed;
I’m a wreck since I can’t rest
without me feeling so depressed
by knowing that she has me beat
but I’m so glad she gave defeat
to do her shows and let me know
I have so much to learn and grow.

So my heart is in a slump
as tears of blood will stream to gut
with hopeful cries that I will trump
this tarnished image of my love
for all the writing I do share
so one day they may once compare
to all the beauty I still hear
whenever she is in speaker.

Her hair of fire’s such a treat
that it’s in blaze like her spirit
and moves with all the grace that’s she;
and could have only come from Thee.
For only love of truest form
could give the gift of all she is,
she helps subside whatever storm
has stricken me from any bliss.

My thanks for your creation lives
in every breath this life can bring.
I just thank God you have the name
of the perfect, Lindsey Stirling.

Thank you for your music and the avenue to your beauty through the perfected art of your skills.  I look forward to every new song you choose to share with us Ms. Stirling.

The Car

My heart is fading from my eyes,
as thoughts examine what to feel.
The time that adds to here and now,
does not equate to gleeful traits.

That look that once had me in stare,
is now annoying with that glare,
I do not care to pay the fare,
that let’s this vessel anywhere.

It once was all I’d ever want,
when desperation was my friend,
but now it seems I’ve found an end
to wanting something all can get.

Examined features yell at me
to say I’ve stayed too long in play
with such a car that’s never far
from any hand that has a grand.

Love once poured from me so much
that every pedal gave the rush
to keep me in it’s little game
where I was drowning in insane.

I’d do my all to fix a part
as hope would cry within my heart
for any chance to keep the prance
that lifts my feet in happy beat.

Yet the parts were not the death
of all my love for such a trick,
it was the fact that I had known
this car will never be my own.

For I desire something great
that only wants what I can make,
even since a kid was me,
I’ve known a car is wanting thee.

So the testing of the rest
has come to me in my true quest,
to find which make I choose to take
and drive until there is no break.

There was a time I bought repairs
to mend the parts that were in need,
but now I see my needs are great,
and this old car just cannot make.

Remembered past will still be shown
from time to time as I see you;
but memory has ways to say,
I’m better off without that make.

Ode to the Winter Tiger

From all of the troubles that sift in the wild
a beauty met beast and birthed a child
that kills with the grace and its pure elegance
to go hunt and reign king from it’s intelligence.

Testing it’s meal by the piercing of eyes
and then feeding the fear as it grows with cries
that signal the nature of such a great creature
to show that in hunting it is the best teacher.

Feeling remorse is not within its course
as it teaches it’s young that some weakness is dumb
when fighting is lighting the way to their day;
since the life they share is not one to compare.

Seeing another great beast on their land
is a battle that makes all their hairs want to stand
as they test out which one is still worth all their breath
when the other is shown that it only gets death.

As well as the ones that are daughters and sons;
their leader is gone so their lives are now done;
yet as for the woman that are now so free,
their lives are now led by the king that’s not dead.

Ruling a kingdom that’s made of it’s blood
is the only way that this beauty is good;
it has not a rule that it has to obey
and it does what it pleases on any new day.

Blending with nature is only a skill
that hones it’s desires to go out and kill
when the trigger is set for the fire to action
and leaves it now resting in true satisfaction.

Even the feel of this beast in beauty,
can give such a rush with the softest of touch
where a growl that would kill is not giving that thrill
since no blood needs the thud from a trickling spill.

Yet some may spill from it’s natural known fate
that it will destroy even if it creates
a life from the gush that had come from the rush
to ensure that a kingdom is still in it’s clutch.

I admire this beast that is only beauty
with the eyes and the soul that now belong to me
for it is such a creature that marries the night;
and I am the one that embraces that light.

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Words

With the marriage of my silence of lips,
I found a new trick has accompanied this.

For it is true that my thoughts have come through
in the form of the words that this world can observe
in the spaces of mind that are in yours and mine
to now see that the things that I say are in play.

Some questions were posed when I came to know this,
like do now my words control what I live like?
And now it’s a yes since I see that I’m blessed
with the power of life that ignites when I talk.

I can give light to the dreams and the wishes
that any could want like some health and some riches;
or even the want of some food or a drink
that could keep up the life that is wanted in sight.

Any old thing or now any new thing
could be given the spring that is meant to give ring
to the marriage of wants that are in our hearts
because now all my words can keep us from apart.

But none of this power would ever see hue,
if all that I said was so far from what’s true
and I lied when I knew what I said was not truth
but I now cannot say any less than the truth.

I love that control is now such an old goal
since it is in my words and whatever I blurb;
but caution is taken with such a great gift,
since this power can go either way that it shifts.

So I’ll enjoy this new gift in my life,
for maybe it will be the end of much strife.

Words are all that I am.

Talking

Since my age is a number
too small to compare
to the ones that now slumber
with decayed old grey hair,
I will not expect
to accept more than reject
from ones that hear me
show words through my lips.

For since there’s an art
to hold voice sounds in brain,
I do not seem smart
when I talk without your say.

Pain held to peace
when thoughts replayed voice,
since words do not please
and are rejected at choice.
But now I choose to turn
my anger into silence,
so you will not feel burn
when hell erupts my violence.

So when some ask why
I choose silence over words,
It’s because no one ever remembers
things exactly as I said.

No reason to fuel a flame
that never has a spark
to start the inferno within
and blur my thoughts from sharp,
when action is not there
to show that people care
about what others say
on any given day
since views are always skew
to prove a point from false
no matter what they do
to truth; that should be boss.