Tee2emm

Pick your battered self up and lick your wounds Let the bereaved find tears to ease their grieve Let the burden of bearing corpse be grave's May means of living find solace in flames Let our broken souls pour out fractured words Let's trade blames if it will undo the guilt. Flame of many tongues burns on many fronts And lo, its scars, by far, outlive its burns

Humanity, are you feeling cozy and warm? Are you too blind to see the wild fire's spreading embrace? Does your myopia still say this as a race? Do you not see our beautiful gate way to harm? Beds brandished by broken bones and bottles Friends flee and fiends fan flames that form our fall

Nature's orchestra plays loud The two little winged guys grow into a crowd All seeking attention Each asking to go first That long night of apprehension Angels, demons, muse each with a huge thirst Darkness about, bright light bulbs inside Who'll be crushed when darkness and light collide Sun fades away, quieting the city Everything nosedives into clarity

Long tea aided chats Even longer late night calls The many burnt nights Then the preceding sleepy days. The hellos and heys The I miss yous The conversations that run out of words Then the reluctant goodnights The "Just-calling-to-check-on-yous" Done a few times A routine evolved The carefully thought out poems Bedeviled by grammatical flaws and typos Slowly words grew inept Then the quest to dive deeper depths The many hours of movie watching Still not knowing what is on Attention strayed from the movie To the electricity building from held hands Then late "walk-me-homes" The welcome prolonged goodnight hugs The heaving of our closely pressed chest This time the haunting goodnights. Words grew fewer Then the realization of her glossed lips; The little stars in her paralyzing eyes; Then a seed of her lips sown on mine The wishes that wishes were more than wishes . Words touched Words kissed They soon will solve the odd maths?

A diamond-like family A detoxing crop of friends The sickening ones down the drain My lost rib Time sunk into nothingness A few lost unwritten thoughts The neglected spark of 'almost friends' A brother dangling on string like a puppet

Crude and coarse cradle Unprepared for this dance Sweet ugly song of chance Pack of dark light Breakfasts in a hurry Dinners under moon light Future seemed out of sight Close scan couldn't find Green fields watered with sweat The harvest by new hands Few from the tillers bands Time's crowned coarse hands

Standing where only I have been Where thoughts bloom green Where brisk giant strides lead backwards And slow gentle strides firmly planted lead forward I am in this place where no one has ever been Where I seem the only real being seen Where my thoughts yell scoldingly in my head And my tongue is drained of saliva for the many deprived breads I am standing on this plain where no one has stood Where actions brew, both bad and good The same carpenter making caskets and beds Both with a cushion to lay wearied heads I am standing where I stand alone A vast space that is raped of a horizon As far out as I look I see only my own self Like staring into a mirror too large and heavy for a hook Admiring the wealth and vanity of my pelf. I am standing where I stand beside no one Enclosed in a cocoon-like cone With a reaped out tongue A grilling soul on a fork with one prong. I am standing where no one has stood Where new breeds are a-brood Where only dreams are real Wher

When great trees fall, rocks on distant hills shudder, lions hunker down in tall grasses, and even elephants lumber after safety. When great trees fall in forests, small things recoil into silence, their senses eroded beyond fear. When great souls die, the air around us becomes light, rare, sterile. We breathe, briefly. Our eyes, briefly, see with a hurtful clarity. Our memory, suddenly sharpened, examines, gnaws on kind words unsaid, promised walks never taken. Great souls die and our reality, bound to them, takes leave of us. Our souls, dependent upon their nurture, now shrink, wizened. Our minds, formed and informed by their radiance, fall away. We are not so much maddened as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of dark, cold caves. And when great souls die, after a period peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly. Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration. Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. They e