Dark Clouds

Dark clouds bring with them a heaviness;
Stifling humidity that chokes rays of sunlight
Threatening to burst into waterworks without warning.
You shelter when the storms beckon,
Enduring diligently for rain’s reprieve
bucketing the leaks to cover your bases
lest all your precious things get ruined.
Dark skies cloud your judgement.
Silver tongued plumes that birth unease.
Sieving the optimism of the day to leave glum residue,
and chiseling the edges of a smooth, polished constitution.
They burst
and fall
and pour
and pour
flooding streets, filling banks, washing all away
poking holes in the security of your home.
But eventually
They come to an end.
Grey skies, weighty but waning,
The sun will shine again.

Photo Credit by https://www.flickr.com/photos/dbroberg


Wrap me in your roses love,

For your embrace is ever dear.

An aroma of home in a bed of beauty

For butterflies to dance evermore,

Like the ones inside my bosom.

Wrap me in your roses love,

For you warm my world with them.

On coldest days they are a fireplace,

Where passion burns ever brightly,

Glistening in your eyes.

Wrap me in your roses love,

Even when they sting.

They may hurt at times,

But together we look so beautiful,

And blossom beyond our pain.

Wrap me in your roses love,

For I want none other but yours.

You were made uniquely and wonderfully,

Arrayed like none other.

You are a garden I cherish.

My Spirit is attractive

My spirit is attractive
and no, I don’t mean it’s pretty.
It attracts energy; kleptomaniac for subtle meanings behind words and actions
of my life’s almanac, all to subtly distract my mind from the intent of it all.
An unseen attack, the bandit of my 26 year old adventure,
The anchor in my grand caper that weighs down the paper of my self esteem because
While I remain unbothered, my spirit bothers me.
Since infancy, it has weaved insecurities based on evidences
of perhaps and maybes
All inclusive to the inconclusive notions of my worthiness.
A fete of regrets, revelrous distress that says I am repulsive
Cooler filled with intoxicating beverages that dull my judgement
And leave me dancing to the music of my maladies.
My spirit is attractive
And unless I address the conflict between my truth and what’s true
It will forever digress to the former.
A divisive demeanor that says that my happiness
Will always have a denominator of stress that leads me
To become only a fraction of the man I’m meant to be
Until I learn to stand up for myself,
The mess of of negativity will always overwhelm my kind, gentle heart.
Quite frankly,
I’m still working on it. I’m still learning.

Swan dive

I make a swan dive off the cliff

Ever plummeting

Winds trumpeting over my ears,

Clapping my eyelids,

Buffeting as gravity spurs me on.

I brace for impact,

But never seem to hit the water.


Seven is a number of completion;
And I get that.
Not that it is finished,
But simply the fact
That the summation of my desires have been found.
It’s exact.
The gem of who you are in contact with my needs.
Without hesitation I sold the treasure of my insecurities
And expectations,
Just to buy the plot to get to you.
A gem so precious;
Hardened by pressures beyond my imagination.
Miraculously compressed and condensed Carbon clusters
That radiate Christ’s love uniquely.
A gem blindingly beautiful, beyond anything I’ve beheld,
Eyes locked in at the heart’s behest.
I could hardly believe them, but they speak no lies;
They have seen none superior.
A gem so pristine and pure; perforated by the light of the sun;
Incandescent as you shine for His glory;
Crystalline as you open up to me,
And clear about the way you feel.
A gem that’s here to stay
Beyond flashy words and frivolous airs
that has been tested and found to be innately true.
A gem that I value
More than earthly powers and possessions,
Because they have all proven to be less than adequate.
A gem to call my own,
And in due time to claim for myself.
Seven times, this gem has beckoned to me.

Cistern; Part Two

Quite frankly, a vessel’s useless if it’s in pieces.
Honestly, it can’t hold a thing cause fluids pour out
It’s admittedly foolish to even try.
The artistry is lost; at best its host to memories
But the imagery of it all is pretty much ruined.
So imagine me
Trying to hold it all together like bags of groceries
Saving trips but bearing a burden I can’t really handle.
It’s silly.
Being jury to a crime I didn’t commit but finding myself guilty
Locking feelings away because fragments aren’t pretty
Or maybe I just loved the mess
Unfortunately I really just cannot say.
But I see what it has done to me.
Though it’s ugly, I begin the journey
To piece back together the broken parts of me.
Friends who’ve seen the beauty in me
And God the Master Potter and greatest attorney
Assist in shaping this broken piece of pottery
That’s nothing like it used to be,
But can be so much better.

Cistern; Part One

I never thought much of myself, just kept taking life as it goes
Poured it all out for my friends and sipped on dregs
But when I was thirsty, nobody ever offered me a drink
I never stopped to think
Hey, maybe I should save me some for later.
I blindly let my subconscious be dictator and attribute their demeanour
To mean
Maybe I don’t deserve to drink at all.
I bore holes in my flask just to eek a little bit more out
And when people poured compliments they’d seep through with
“They don’t mean that”s and “that’s not that special anyway”s.
For all the love I’ve poured out, I’ve never taken into account the value of the vessel.
Years later it’s a shallow mess.
Still functional, but it works. Always used to pouring,
Never to be filled.
So when I asked to fill a glass and she said no,
I shattered to splinters instead.
Without pouring, what else do I have?

[Photo credit to www.jointheunstoppables.com]