Polar

A pen stroke

can only mimic so much truth.

At dawn the calvary rides.

A mantra sang in bravado

and courage

to never settle

and to always fight

the good fight.

The piercing of the veil

is as a steadfast arrow

through a rushing waterfall

rued by the broken

but forever

perfect

endless rocks of love

below

that it will soon flow over

to find its inevitable home.

Hither and thither

the truth finds its way.

No matter how many words we write —

no matter how deeply we soak them

into matted,

tattered pulply paper.

The true poetry are the strokes

of our hearts

as we touch

and see into the eyes

of another soul.

This fluttering

tacit acquiescence

is the birth

Don't deny it

Don't deny the feelings

that drown you

before it's too late

This could be real

in unfathomable ways

where the soul can bend

endlessly through time

and space

Into the everlasting glow

of love

that this life has given

Those same feelings

that burn in your chest

grappled and strangled

by betrayal

and loss

They are the same

in the ones you share

with final

easy words of promise

that you betray

Your love —

You say

Think twice before you eat up

all that time

and feeling

of another soul

Think twice

Make yourself feel

three times as more if need be

Don't deny how real it can be felt

in another souls epitome

A total center of feeling exists

in the soul you sought to share

all of this feeling

Don't deny them a fair trial

in the vast long halls

of your troubled souls court

Where your mind can play judge,

jury and executioner

And the gavel that you swing

may clammer without a response

for only so long

A empty world you've fabricated

drenched in denial

Where you can leave a soul

in denial

as you flail out these motions

And without second thought

can leave a beautiful soul

wandering endlessly in the fog

of an unpromising

endless array of tall pine

on the mountainsides

feverish

and wheening on thin air

Don't deny the simple justice

the one in which you hold their life

in your hands

because that is what you have

every time you run astray

and put their love up like a pawn in chess

You gamble with the life

no matter how exciting

the thrill

be it as pleasant as ice

dazzling and melting into a warm gush

of exhilarating bliss

You will win your measly reward

of thrill

Judge,

jury and executioner

You may not feel your karma

as it bounds from the back of the courtroom

of your sheltered soul

But in the cell

you've casted the innocent

The hunger will feed

for a jury

to find its own way

out of your life gambling game

The one in which you carelessly sacrifice

each pawn

until one day you meet your match

and there is no checkmate

to this King

A soul that you can't lock away

and pound out their value

flesh by flesh

person by person

One that won't let you gamble their life away

where the rent to be paid

will be remembered in each tiny fragment

you tried to take

Rejecting you like the virus

that you are

And on that day

The gavel will be swong

by a jury

that does not wear masks

of a cabal of vile filth

But one that hangs the crooked

by tall nooses

woven together by the fragments of disloyalty

your virus

you

siphoned from your victims

There you will hang

unfortunately crossed

by a deep

vile place you chose

The evil of your gambles and games

will find its day

in the halls of justice

that burn beyond the ground

of a simple place like our world

And in an eternal fire of beautiful good

the souls of the good

will rid this world

take me to a place

of the past and brandish your weapons

open up an arsenal of love

disorderly falling from above

heart rain drops

to soothe a dry throat

your mouth must be open

on a love boat

paddling by the groupings of lovely lanterns

we can row our life some place

take me

take me to space

clasped in a formation of brutish

yet cupped like water in your nimble hands

so gentle

yet so strike worthy

as a nail through a hand

take me

take me to the place where

I've said and I've tried

sculpting your masterpieces

you take all the credit for

but I will break these bindings

no matter where you take me

take me

and I will show you a life

that can take you

it will ride shotgun with you

for the rest of your life

and that's okay

nothing of our reality

is definite

but one thing

and escape persecution

Winds gusts

of mother nature

caress in a careless violent lust

across a vicariously weathered

but troubling to age framework.

Its orifices

beading as

sprinkles of a fine mist

dress the undecided beard

of a man with balled fists.

His eyes are tense

as he looks upon this mockery

of foe

and uncautious life

vowing to obtain the truth

often found in his roots.

A tribal —

Untamable ancestry

that forms from the most

sacred of roots.

He is a warrior

and can never deny his nature.

Made of clay,

fire and loose dirt

that he rubs between his hands

and feels ease as he curls his toes

in anticipation.

On this hill he will die

but in the afterlife

and in this life

the doubts will bode unwell

as his image

will always truly exist

in the physical realm

to haunt you.

Be it in his vessel

or his offspring

that is taught

each step

and each strike

to make do with a fine work

of the art of man.

The enemies that march will forlorn

this image,

finding great costs in Gods ying

that will strike with an endless yang.

On this hill

you approach

so carelessly —

You will find a warrior;

you will find him.

In the most sense of ones nature —

He will enact this promise,

reminding you

In my arms

you are such a big boy now

Like the night sky

you break away from the chains

of light

and darkness

Over the loud

unkempt

way of mankind on Earth

You nestle yourself

like the stars of vibrant totals

Burning

brighter

Unrelenting in your vastness

as you grace the torn

full and selfish world

A completely alternate plan

an architecture

methodically created

by an architect of the most powerful

The energy of love

swept and draped across

above and beyond

all that matters and doesn't

You are the moments promised

through unpredictable odds

You are a vibrant cascade of endless lights

in the night sky

that grace us all

in the endless callings of love

and purpose

You are the future

and why it's made

from the endless parts

vulnerable

hostile

lost

honest

strong

it is ok to feel

when the world shuts you out

and the sensations fail at being real

sometimes we often forget what it meant

what it meant to love

no matter how far our soulmate was heaven sent

it is ok to feel

and today I do

I know we will love eachother

Cinema playwright gives his all.

By his fingertips he will sow you a life,

a world,

a love.

Next scene;

action —

the crosswalk

downtown somewhere

cold

and void of demanding time.

A place where the city meets us

in our dreams.

If it was recorded on the walkway,

you would perhaps see me,

lost in the world

as I look for you.

A script meant to be lived,

gouging at the inseparable

draw and need

to let the play go on.

This stage

is made solid

with intent to take your confidence

and force you

to accept your audience.

Under the spotlights of mediocrity

you open your eyes

and part your lips

before pouring it all on the line

from the vulnerable ends of the soul.

Into the act,

he holds his hands up

and in this moment he sees it all apart

from the simple jokes.

Cinema playwright laughs; the healing is done.

Yet the walk home

after the contagious laughter

of his patients bounds

against the metal wall

of his lost love.

A story he is thankful

he could never sow

out of the concepts

of his own.