The Tour in Duty

Join the hands of time as the tides roll and shores float against the horizon.  A simple passing of hearts, I remember the times when the legend didn’t die.  I recall the history of the passing and how the light of the Heavens shineth down upon us.

The sweet sliver of the crescent moon smiles from the darkest terrain of outer space.  The night light of the times brings forth a new era of discoveries within the mind as we fight to live and live to fight another day. 

The Earth is just and eloquent against the eve of destitution as men gain riches and women make fertile homes.  While the children run in the freedom of the lands that holdest their young souls.

Hath honor in the simplicity of wonder and beseech the gentile hearts of those we have met along the way.  Their grace builds upon the gratitude of others and the chain meets unbroken in the winds. 

They amongst us who have moved mountains just so the birds’ song could float above us in the notes of yesterday for tomorrow will not be lost in remembrance.  However, the clocks will not asunder or give back time and thus the future waits for flight once more. 

They proclaim upon the innocent as the wickedness attempts to grab at their very bones.  In the yard of contemplation, a longing for the health of sweet, natural and effervescent youth will not die in the hearts of those who live by the words of the wise. 

For the ones who have departed, may the spirits gather them once more and recycle them back to guide us in our touristic yearning.  As we seek to return to the urns of our tomorrow, live in riches of the present. 

The road upon Heaven’s highway is but negligible in our present states of a preoccupied way.  For the notion of physical wealth undermines the pure disciple within our beliefs and ethics.   

Sometimes it can elevate or round in circles, dependent on the times of the past, present and future.  We are three stones away from our perfect forms as the trinity of life protects and messages our mortal selves before the Gates of Heavens.  While the hearts of the humane gives us the peace and rest of now and perhaps long before we have reached death. 

Is this not legend or have we forgotten all with the clutter of the world’s dilemmas in the minds of the wanderer?  Haveth the wounds of our beings become the demise of our inner spaces in the continuum of living? 

So against the grain, we are and always been told to rise above it and seek the enrichment of enlightenment of today, tomorrow and yesteryears.  They are the purpose of the guide and the tour of our dutiful lives on this planet.  

I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty;
I woke, and found that life was Duty.
Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?
Toil on, sad heart, courageously,
And thou shalt find thy dream to be
A noonday light and truth to thee.
-Ellen Sturgis Hooper (February  17, 1812 - November 3, 1848)

Simple

I am just a simple poet as the rhythm, rhymes and rhetoric rings in restitution.  

Sweetly clear like a crystal bell chiming against silent minds.  

In standing a prism, angular and astute with residual anguish but the transparency is obscura, like a photographer's still life in framed works, preserved in time.  

Perhaps an upside down picture in-between the convergence of pixels laying in the x of con-vexed purpose of mind.  

In the split second of imagery, the innocent are free and the guilty are privy to consignment of space and time.  Yet, the instant that light resonates like a halcyonic symphony when the sounds of indubitable composure becomes repose of an honorable condigned conscientiousness that convenes on the soul at that specific moment shines brightest in sight.  

For multiple eyes bear witness to the simplicity of life in movement of still lives.  

Eminent light effervescent in graceful giving to insight, the bright night merits the banishment of dark cracks in measure.

The polished glint of some preservation of shimmer, subsequent to the sparkle of invisible radiance, like the feet forgetting to dance, or the the voice to speak, the mind to wander, so that the heart can dream to remember a song or small step turned two step.  

The rest lies in the rise of light and images.

http://www.abelardomorell.net/photography/cameraobsc_01/cameraobsc_01.html

Ten to Morrow

10 years ago there was a sliver of what you saw.

Perhaps it was the light of the moon, sliding through the cracks.

A decade of time flushed by space and divides resting in

the separation of forces, flexed beyond cardinal speechless ties

a voice box subsequently drowned in sound, gasping between sonance.

The droll darkness succumbed reluctantly to a lone single drifting note.

Yet nor was it, hearing fear that abated the freedom of night.

A lull of a subtle song set a youth ling floating softly in sheer silence,

thus unspoken in utterance, slow seconds waited without whimper.

While within a split second of nature’s solace, sound once again became murmurs of rhythm.

May such a constraint land on my own broken bones and injured brain

perhaps to be cushioned by the remaining layers of skin

and maybe softened before breaking any other’s spirit.

Anguish shouldered by angels behind the stump of inexperience.

They hold the anchor on their backs, not to be dropped onto some other’s footing.

Tenuous years have passed but also divided in half by loss.

The sound of crying in dark hallways waits for familiar echoes.

Reaching out to ghosts, knowing her voyage was passage,

into the distant nights, the glow of fellow lights began to show.

On one and two, a young child let go and the others watched her go.

The dark slithers asundered to the swallow of night.  In turn, her head speaks.

Often the angelic lights ask how one can let go of graces in evening’s bow.

Silent suns arise into celestial creatures struggling to send home

the cessation of Earthy beasts in crucifixions of sorrow against might. 

The ends of the Earth often meet in deliberation and interlude to master the stars.

Today, a sound off into time, no longer the echo of past lies and surrender,

a heart beats in breasts of masculine and feminine ticks as one.

A bittersweet adieu to the young lady in the cast of blackness

as the garment of gentility rests peacefully against a renewal in

the longing for the half mark of life to make amends among friends.

Evening on ten’s tomorrow, we shall rise like the Dead has risen.

We shall not fear, but exchange the sovereignty of lives past

and challenge the cherished about the sanctity of mortals and eternity.

Her sweet song will rise in the voices of inamoratas and heartthrobs

as the meeting of bodies and animus mix blood of past, present and future alike.

Relief and Release

To envy those with water eyes,

I befell to such a demise.

Gentle tears that flows through empathy

I succumbed, disgraced by sympathy.

The ducts of salutations runs deep underneath.

I am closer to tin hats and automobiles

which wheel towards motels and hotels.

The adjacent water works of utility

comfortably sits in human dignity.

The monopoly of emotions fell inside a soul.

Indignant, resilient, there was no rest for wickedness

crimes upon a chest gave no allowance for frivolousness.

Shaken by a world realized by deliverance,

I sat under trees in remittance.

The Buddha slivers in the austere moon ascetic. 

Two fold or three fold, the envelope unfolds

in time sequenced to golden scrolls untold.

The words reveal revolutions and restitution

for the sins of man lie in Confucian devolution. 

The teacher arises from battle in shadows realms of wisdom.

Time and honor responds to despondent voice and choices.

A man’s vocal constraint tied against the massive noises.

I live in a slumbering nation against a grain of salt

my silence reiterates against request of who’s at fault. 

The truth and reliance begins within three conscious states.

Feelings of commiseration and clemency,

first responders to condolences and mercy

the spiritual alliance alleviates the shameful pain.

Springs of tears storms the fissure of a soul reopening,

assaulting prior damages towards the reign of hearts living. 

My eyes weary of a world water shed and ripping at the seams. 

The heart gives no privy to the privatization of feelings.

I journey through the anguish and belittlement

of a world forced to work towards entitlement.

No longer live in envy but fight to become One once again.

The Cup of Tears 

Movie Info: 

http://www.comingsoon.net/news/movienews.php?id=66197

A Reinvited Mind

Ye can love me or hate me

because I know that he hath createdth I.

If you saw my discolor or squalor

and placed me beneath those taller in size,

know no begging for tawdry forgiveness

for I foundation comes heaven sent.

If you come sit next to thee to see

that in my life I have sat quietly.

Waiting for the salvation of silence

as another shares their solemnest secret

of oppression, depression or emancipation.

I rest in peace looking for sounds of reclamation.

Deep in my bones rests the marrow of tomorrow.

I have weakened in past remembrances

of wellness in the well of wealth that rises

from the riches in the psalms of Holy words.

The memories of generational wisdom delivers

I a fate turned over to triumph from death.

In the untouchable notes floating in rhythm

I remember the times of treasures

as humbleness weathers the scorning storm

of egos against elegance, while the hands of time

are tied against a current bashing on the shores

for the moon keeps us closer to the sun.

The internal flame of the undivided rides

to collide with the salvation of man

to conquer or unite the request of dying heroes

to predate the predators of selfishness

the wish is to conglomerate and enumerate

the alignment of Heaven for a unity in kindness.

The subconscious identity released to the conscious mind

the hearts of the solid sanctify the fight of God’s right hand.

Everlasting joy and grace to place and settle on the Earth

the atmosphere of the rich have depleted breathing rooms

in exchange the mentally able remain stable in numbers.

A slumbering nation awakes to identify the blunders of plunder.

I am far from depleted to leave it alone.

They reiterated from their semi-precious thrones.

I don’t seek approvals of men other than nods of heads,

remenants in suspension like a bridge within consciousness

while the heart and soul speaks for the first time, the mind

reinstates the dignified in a battle cry for a opined mankind. 

The Sum of Sons

In growth, some evolve getting older, others get bolder

the boys of the hoods become rebels in the midst

the dis is irrelevant for those solid, soldiers of essence

redefined and refined, the strength of one becomes sums

the relevance of extinguished sons in flight for diligence

Revive to survive the rectitude of attitude

growing eyes never lie the spoken terse of verse

they remain the same song, the unwritten words are undone

get back, step forward, work to the side but push to ride higher

the juke of a player, dominion of those who run to be number one

Catch the star, shooting across the playing field

they never yield in being the toughest to leave the rest of us

breathing dust of their fight to brightness, incognito to everyone

within joint endeavors, the shuffle moves a planet by axis

shifting latitude, the world revolves around a richer sun

The brotherhood and fatherhood of unitary context

the contest of sisters revealed for a later endless concept

bring forth them who revitalize the strength of man

the Holyland requested their presence for those Earthbound

Street thug eloquence brought forth deliverance’s hand

A generalization of generations, the boys regained again,

the men of days protested from rights stripped naked

the skin within transpired bravery to emerge once more

at a time when the Earth stood still from stolen looted toils

the dignification of reiteration is once again reborn

Shot like cupid’s narrow arrow, in the state of mind of crime

another gains momentum in the climb to open mindedness

resolute in historical maintenance, once again the eyes reveal

Revelations, as ties to lineal DNA finds past pupils instilled

for and by all man kindreds looking to usher in a new deal

Reinstate the greats, the men who stood up in spite

the wretch and wrecked walk against the Eight

the beginning of nights rests solely wiith O.V. Wright

for the motherless child rests while the nucleus of soul

gives a nickel and a nail because that’s how strong my love is

Imperceptible Holy Day

http://www.jonathanlockwoodhuie.com/

The slow day of a holiday, restful

but stressful for the responsible.

Dire gathering in days prior of presence

and presents are required.

The gift of plates full of feasts,

often a finale sitting at the end table.

The babies and ladies of tradition

swoon as men swagger in swath.

In a family of rendition, members

know to clean their plates.

The written tablet of customs,

joint in characteristics for God.

Adult fellowship in reserved remarks

of the Cross, as babies crawl across

the floor of the converted by

revolutionary revelations acquired from loss.

Shifting votes in transient silence

as the Lord and world quilters off balance.

The complexity of dexterity,

in regards to the nationals for today,

sits at a dinner with the familiar,

for family is what they made and gave.

The rising cups’ ovation, high above in praise

for the safe return for a better way.

Civility supposes if a neighbor, is a stranger

the hand reaches out to shake them.

If the corner is an owner of the children’s

propensity for order, then circumvent

and circumspect to give them what they think,

fairness plus equality in level distribution.

A person in fashion returns to compound

the passion of early youthful beginnings.

Praise, grace and gratitude creates

and challenges attitudes for traditions,

in alias as holidays reveal nooks in hearts

of origin, all sit still for quick momentum.

For now, for this day is restful to peaceful

while we speak of humane space and humanity.

Give thanks for the highest and the mighty

for devoted spirits to greet in solidarity.

Gratitude for the good in mankind as

the hands reach to touch cultivated dualities.

Photo courtesy:
http://www.severnaparkumc.org/Worship/prayer_praise.htm