Pale

“The pale of life hold the most color.”

Not all wars are visible

the paled battles are the most vicious.

Not all tears reach the ground

some turn into rain drops

watering the earth.

Hunger is gray begins in overfeeding

turns the stomach into poverty.

Most voices are poor,

turned into paintings

sold as art to the highest bidder.

Faith can be empty and full of self righteousness ignorant to the capabilities of a lower nature,

Oh blind of heart

bleached of sight

do you not know?

every leaf falls to the ground and must wither that the tree continue to grow.

The pale of life hold the most color,

unaffected by the rising tides

never to wither

finds growth in the storm

changing her seasons.

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The mirror always looks back

The mirror always looks back..

There are some things you never forget, the mirror always looks back.

The sound of empty rain drops hitting a tin roof.

The wild flower that had died the moment she was touched.

The sound of the old mans empty breath as he stands at the bus stop.

The stance of the young who have life figured out and the eyes of the old, grasping to still understand what life and humanity have become.

The youth will speak of humanities warmth and the old will show you the coldness.

Realizing everyone is as loyal as they are disloyal and you are no different.

The music to a song that no longer has lyrics.

That moment you look in the mirror and see yourself staring back.

The warmth of the moon and the coldness of the sun.

Being attracted to the storm.

Waking up to sleep again.

The unspeakable peace when all is chaos around you.

The unspeakable chaos when all is peaceful around you.

Being lost to yourself.

People make love and relationships meaningless, love and relationships cannot corrupt themselves.

When heartache saved you and love destroyed you.

When the night shone as the day and the day resembled the night.

Envying the freedom of a bird.

You wake on day and understand, you have placed more chains on yourself more then anyone else has.

Real poetry is graffiti.

You will beg to remember while forgetting.

The mirror always looks back…

Spartacus wannabes

Bull*** I am Spartacus wannabes…

This is supposed to be about we the people

not we the ruling classes.

This isn’t about doing what’s right but has become about taking any issue trending and using that to sway for votes and power.

This is about regaining power, gaining the majority in the house so one party can rule over the other.

Both political parties are looking for their “I am Spartacus” moments, using the accused and the accuser.

Gropers speaking out against the accused…really?!

All the sudden everyone gives a crap about corruption, corruption both parties have lived off of for years and both have created.

All the sudden everyone gives a crap about sexual assault/abuse within powerful circles and yet every single one of them have swept years of abuse under the rug but now everyone wants to be Spartacus and speak out against abuse.

All of the sudden everyone gives a crap about the corruption and injustice that has destroyed the lives of many Americans and created a new class of working poor, any injustices committed towards ppl of color and how all these politicians are sick of it?!

They only care now because it is affecting their power.

They are now speaking out against tribalism, a tribalism they created.

You will

You will….

You will be made and remade a thousands times over.

You will die a thousand deaths before being turned to ash.

You will fall more times then you rise but you will rise.

You will be placed in the darkest of places and question every belief you’ve ever had and wonder if they truly are your own.

You will fear every belief you have,

seeing the truth of what believing really means and the consequences of that reality.

You will grow to understand the world knows less today than yesterday. We’ve learned more but lack the knowledge needed to move forward.

You will hear the utopian world and soon begin to understand, it is more about control and less about doing what’s right for humanity. How can this utopia exist when it has been the human nature of men/women that have corrupted every system meant for good will.

You will grow older not younger,

“50 years young” dose not change the color of grey or thinning of skin. You will realize most who say this fear aging. The greatest gift you could give yourself, make peace with age and age will make peace with you.

I have spent many years dealing with the dying and have witnessed every single belief in God shattered by reality, with their dying breath they search for the true living god not a god made by the minds of men/women. I have seen the atheists shiver. I have seen the rich turned into poverty and wail. I have seen the most influential lay gasping in a hospital gown unrecognizable.

I have walked into the dreariest hospital rooms and have understood, we spend are whole lives avoiding the end and by stripping death of her existence we miss our lives.