IX

Those who love will gain love in return.
Those who possess will own nothing they earned.
Where the line stops, I step on over,
And feel the world fall from my shoulders.

I’ve taken my sorrows and turned them to stone,
And built out of them a home, I call my own.
I’ve now made a deal to let the ceiling fall.
I held it up until I couldn’t bear the weight of it all.

Those who wait along the line, will wait through their many lives,
Those who are bold to cross and bear the pain are given a surprise.
Where the courage birthed from, a thousand woes,
And the story begins, a growth from the shadows.

I plan to leave a trail behind,
I plant my seeds to give back to this life,
I will not wait with the others, I will now follow,
And let another life go by that’s hard to swallow.

Through the rubble, a house that once was,
I find my greatest moment, a feeling,
A key to fill the hole in my heart,
I unlock the greatest purpose, to love
Without expecting anything in return,
Even to be loved.

 

A Lullaby For Our Concerns

A Lullaby For Our Concerns

We defy the malignant fears,
And we see the miracle like a meteor bedazzlement.
Inside those terrors, those morbid feelings,
That paint over skies at night in specter & awe,

The Homeland you once belonged to darkened.
The callous grip on your peoples’ voices to escape,
Those dilapidated houses, and reveal their song

Withheld them all.

We all have a dream,
To scour the land of life anew and lush,
To cleanse the oceans to their origins,
To regain a proper balance of acceptance and gratitude.
We see the outcome as a key to a destiny,

Enlightenment, answers, and more merrily accepted questions.
But still, truth remains absent, somewhere beyond the malignant fears.

This is a Journey, This is a Test

This is a Journey, This is a Test

Comrades, marauders, vagabonds,
This is a Journey!
We’re all welcome to join,
But I must confess-
The mind can mimic a field of crickets,
Chirping in unison.
The mind can mimic a field of mines,
Combusting all at once.

Nomads, wanderlust-ed, and all who are curious,
This is a test!
We’re all destined somewhere,
Whether we like it or not;
Alas-
The soul in good hands finds a home with company to rest anew.
The soul in bad hands finds no home, no rest, and tries again from learned mistakes.

The Man Alone and His Cobblestone Road

Many times, I’ve lost a friend, and many nights I’ve cried,

Pulling petals from daisies just to let myself know I tried.

I’ve burned a lot of flower stems to bring flame to a candle,

So I can see the past’s picture, though it’s one that’s hard to handle.

And still I can’t sleep until, the slow, heavy rain,

Has hit the rooftop, and carried sounds, that help me drift away.

I’ve walked on many cobbled roads, and maybe hitched a ride,

But still and will I walk along until I’ve aged and died,

All my life I’ve been alone, with hopes of friends to share,

And some have joined, temporarily, now they travel roads of theirs.

And still I can’t sleep until, the slow, heavy rain,

Has hit the rooftop, and carried sounds that help me drift away.

I think about the things I’ve done, and wonder if I’ve tried,

If there was something I could have done, to stop the teared goodbyes.

But the golden rule I’ve learned from life, is people come and go,

I can only hope our paths cross again,

Someday, while I walk with flowers in my hands along the cobbled roads.

Still I can’t sleep until, that solemn, heavy rain,

Has hit the rooftop, and carried sounds that help me drift away.

– Jasper 9uince

Nine Sided, One Dimensional

I am nine-sided,

But One dimensional.

 

Moldy like residual buildup in vegetation,

I birth with tiny, drunken, ballerina flies,

Looking to get stone sober,

But end up stone cold.

 

Scum sucking plastic pebbles of a fish tank,

Scrubbing with tongue,

And with tongue & cheek,

I hold a wish that someday I would grow legs and arms,

With hands! So I could peel my face off the bottom’s surface,

And maybe touch the light I only ever see.

 

I am one-sided,

But Nine dimensional.

 

My thoughts cannot convey themselves,

So they approbate inside my brain, and wait to be released like a bull pen

Into the wild pitching eve.