The journey

These clouds of pillows
rest burdens and  pains.
The silence of nights
Again and a gain.

The cells of my memory
Ignite into flames.
The soothing begins
After storms pass with rains.

The under of weather...
The death of a stork.
This wine colored celebration
Will not have a cork.

The sound of an audience
Rings far beyond cheer.
The taste of humility
Does not taste like beer.

The triggers are fired!
They watch for the news.
Look! It's Southern sounding...
That there is the blues.

To keep it together

It all falls apart.
The images flash
After bangs, first a spark...

I lay on these pillows
And feel the still air
The busses and cars
Pass by far and near.

The time to awaken
Has come to my care.
The burden is lifted
And Pain says a prayer.

"Take Judgment, and Anger,
This house is of glass.
Please use me for your will,
And guide me the path."

For those without blemish
Are pure as the night.
And surely they're angels,
And in all ways right.

Their painted faces lie
In the clouds of my sky.
Where were they before
With all things awry?

But now....
Now they gather
Like pillows and psalms...
The feasting of crabs.

This flesh is now gone.

The spirit remains
The spirit uplifts
The greatest of spirits

Has come with a gift.

The judgments and angers
Are merely a rock.
They throw at their mirrors
With Fear and with Doubt.

They shiver and hide
When Love is about.
The Sun is at high
No purest of night.