Lost

“If you feel lost, disappointed, hesitant, or weak, return to yourself, to who you are, here and now and when you get there, you will discover yourself, like a lotus flower in full bloom, even in a muddy pond, beautiful and strong.”
Masaru Emoto, Secret Life of Water   

 

Lost
                                Ships wreck

Walking through the question marks
Where will I go in this dark?
With the light dimming behind
How will I go being blind?
Screaming in my head, holding the candle near
Where will I go from here?
The path is crooked with cliffs along the way
Fear says never to go but only to stay

When there’s no sight from lack of light there remains no assurance in the steps. My soul’s being torn between ravenous beasts manifested by my torment. Faith, will you save me now? Will you come on the white horse of sanity and redeem my soul? These wasps follow me, stinging me where ever I go. I can hear the buzz of their wings while I sleep. There’s no healing from the swelling injections filled with the puss of their rape. What parts of me have died or are dying? Why can’t I tell? I know that bricks are missing in my wall and deleterious eyes stare at me from the holes. With all of this hell raging in and around me, I call out, as we all do in the foxholes of life, “GOD HELP ME”! He will, but how, it escapes me, but when, it eludes me, and in this moment I hang to what I know from His dealings with me in the past. I know He’ll help me, I know He’ll come, I know I’ll survive and be stronger yet for the next wave of human devils and demon thoughts.

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You Are Not – A poet’s revenge against the Cliché –

“My life as well as my writing are guided by creed in lieu of clichés” ― Carl Henegan

 

progguy1

 

You’re not like every cliché
repeated often till meaning dies
You’re like brilliant truth, 
revealing my weakness for your body
You’re not like a rose whose fragrance and beauty
are but an honorable mention
You’re like the smell of a thousand pines 
calling and seducing me to lay in your arms
You’re not like an angel whose wings
carried you to me from afar
You’re like mischievous devils 
whose temptations take me from reality to fantasy
You’re not like a song,
sung endlessly while children clap their hands
You’re like the sound of waves, 
crashing your sexuality over my beaches
You’re not like a gentle swan,
perfect beauty so many times compared
You’re like violent lightning, 
striking the lies of men and melting my soul to yours
You’re not like the ordinary,
the common seen on every poet’s page
You’re like the grandeur of space, 
possessing the beginning and ending of my life
Also published in Broowaha Magazine

Also published in Life As A Human Magazine

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

02142012