lusting real love

I try not to get too caught up in appearances, but how could I not lust for lips that speak truth… How could I, not get lost in eyes, that have seen love in everything. How could I not marvel at a selfless smile… And how could I, not long to hold, a body that is home to such a beautiful soul?

I am 

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I am

I am

I am

I am as empty as the meaning of my opening line,

Yet as full as an avocado;

Ripe with potential to be sweet and smooth.

I don’t want to be vain,

I don’t mean to be as bold as the cock…

Of a gun,

Or to cock back my head and dictate this space,

Or dictate your pace,

But dictate my pace

And not waste…

My words, because you are going to listen to me.
even if I seem as empty as the meaning of my opening line…

Because my words are weapons, and my tongue is cocked back ready to shoot my soul at you…

I changed from a chicken into a rooster, so now I come across as cocky, when I crow at you … I just sat on my potential till it hatched.

I don’t want to be arrogant, but you are going to listen to every last word of my written rant.

Because until I find someone who can relate, at the pace I dictate

to what, I am;

Where, I am;

Who, I am;

and all. the emptyness I’ve faced.

My world and my words would have gone to waste

And I am… Just not going to let that happen.

(Co written by harmony farrell)

why she hid

she hid her face, though she was niether timid nor ashamed…

niether was she meek,  nor tame…

she felt there was a lot more to her picture than just the frame…

there was nothing to hide, but so much more to see inside…

so she hid the face she had, beacasue…

she felt she was making it easier to see the soul she was…

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Half heartedly in love 

IMG_7289They met in a dream, so real to him, she had made a lasting impression, but never hung around to be recalled at his discretion…
One half of his heart she would fill with love, the other with tension. He knew she would either be a life partner or another life lesson

Despite his many insecurities, he would strive towards making her a priority…He searched;

endlessly, to find the time,

relentlessly, for new ways to prove he loved her.

His charm, his smile, they did their bit to help, they pleaded a case to her, but they never proved what he needed to, to himself.
He begged her to stay, as he pushed her away. She was a beautiful mistake , one he was dying to make… The girl from his dream, that had him sat up all night, awake…

Peice of my mind 

The mind;

a battle field, for the worrier warrior, who draws the will he wields from his soul sheath, while hiding behind his ego shield.

Fighting for a sense of security, defending a feeling of purity, descending and transcending maturity. An odyssey not for the eyes to see, just time zones redefined by a mind blown, as the worrier fights to align the crown.
The brain;

a vast network of ever growing chains , the worriers bane,as he approaches insane…

Fighting to figure out how to eat love, somewhere in-between the stomach and the heart, torn apart, by hard fought thoughts of heaven and hell, hard thoughts sought out where his conscience may dwell. He may well, free all the great warriors, trapped in his grey cells…

A thought;

The pen and the sword that are equally mighty, that colour and carve the warrior worriers reality…

Fighting for a glimpse of clarity, while fighting reality. A missile from a mile away, a beacon beaming through the darkest day, that of which , could guide the blind , and on its way, destroy every last remaining peace …of mind

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false profit

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With the aim to gain from pain, we were told to shun the sun to make hay,

No control over the games were made to play.

With salt soaked wounds from imaginary shark attacks,

We freshen our breath to bite back.

Love placed under cardiac arrest, all hearts under attack, broken dreams piled in a stack…

 

A Divine unity that was cracked, into finer fractals.

Looking back into pitch black, dimmer lights lead us astray.

Our voice was drowned in quiet waters, our choice buried in the greener pasture,

Leading roles that were played by actors, who sought pleasure pushing bruised buttons.

 

Nothing more than a shrinking statistic that rounds up to nothing,

Both lost and forgotten, for we existed, in a state of something rotten.

 

Lost at sea 

Lost at sea, where I can find myself;  

Soaking, in hope; tired, from riding the tides of life’s ocean. Floating, from coast to coast with nothing to boast of; bar the treasures of truth. Navigating my thoughts through, future mist, towards something new. Blue, when I look back on ships that sailed past. Lost, for all that’s here to see is my eerie reflection, drifting. I find myself sifting through ship wrecks left behind. Diving too deep, yet somehow washed up on freedoms shoreline… Im tired, and I’m lost, but I’m doing just fine… 

Sinai 

    The preacher begins to speak of peace, as the quire grows quiet. The sermon was yearning to learn, the demons were burning in the urns of those earning. 

The spirit however, did not desert the undeserving. Every soul within the temple could feel a tide turning, in a baptism of realism. Manifested true, through a catalogue of material cataclysms. Each eye saw the same Visions of the Schism.
The walls began to burn, unconcerned by who was what, or who wasn’t  with sin. The temple began combusting, like a furnace, yet not even a single Scream scratched the surface; 

The preacher was now looking increasingly nervous. Pushing his faith desperate to see the purpose, of the torture that he had used to torch the tortious…

Wealth had now become worthless; to all the snowy Saints in their burning churches. That now claimed to know of holy verses, yet could not recall their saviours birthplace; 
The quire so inspired that they sang through the fire, until the entire procession sought out a new professions. 
Like the holy smoke that filled their lungs and stained the air. They where there, yet everywhere. A heavy cross to bare, till they were near, their last breath…

A church full of New desciples that wrote divergent bibles, as they stifled, walking through the fiery shadow of death…

Hunter 

  

They came like ants swarming the school,

Guns blazing, voices raised to decibels I could only assume

My time was up.

Lined against the wall, everyday tasks now twisted

Teachers pinned against the black board 

Red chalk newly scripted

Self fulfilling prophecy eyes now at the back of the head.

Some, could no longer see a head.
Another dead lesson, everyday tasks now twisted…

Mathematics, as I panicked, trying to sum up the time I existed 

History lessons, my life flashed before my eyes. 
Terror from fellow pupils followed the flashes across my pupils. reflecting, thinking, life is but a lesson… over the hellish harmony of scared screams still singing, I could just about make out the sounds of the school bells ringing… 

Co written by: https://soromtbte.wordpress.com