Writing in Whyte
Monday, October 4, 2010
Barefoot Freedom
Friday, July 30, 2010
Riverbed Cheeks
Blinded by the riverbeds mapped so neatly across my face;
I pier through cracks of tear-stained sediment to the rose-filled, mahogany vase.
Trimmed thorny stems… tied with a ribbon made of lace.
Defiance is their defense and to prick is their intent, with their bristly embrace.
Needle sharp noses held so high without a care.
An internal vessel broken by their painful glance and snub, detached glare.
Too distressing to remember, with their causes of despair;
Yet too beautiful to forget, for their prized red pedal affair.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Prison Skin
Quiet somber metronome,
Daunting and haunting the tunnels beneath my skin
Consistently keeping record of the drum beats
That I unnoticeably walk to the rhythm of.
The beat above… below.
Within and without the membrane coating.
The covering so claustrophobically weaved
Perceived as a house for this soul of mine,
A prison house that undermines.
I chisel from the inside,
Like and insect.
Chiseling at the core, so the crown will fall.
But why?
I should then simply crumble upon myself
Upon the hand that chisels.
Should I then relieve such tools from my firm grip
And meander amongst the fools with duller tools?
Who is the part of me to place my self on a pedestal above such fools?
For I am such by different means.
But maybe I’m mistaken,
I chisel at the core so the crown would live no more.
The crown of superiority, so hypocritically disguised
By my blind demise.
Fill the cracks of my chisel axe.
Roam through the tunnels, weaved and claustrophobic.
Like an insect, replenishing myself
Proudly placing myself on a higher pedestal,
Amongst the other powerful fools.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Prayers Once Ash
Feet have turned to miles,
I'm resisting the resistance,
but today my love's reluctant.
Words barley come, run blood run.
Run through my veins and through my thumb.
Let my thumb never push, never press, never force.
Prayers can coerce;
they're ash in my mouth as repetition i utter...
i stutter.
Their love as window shutters,
conditional and seasonal.
Is it reasonable?
The epidemic of ignorance and fear,
spread through blind eyes...
blind hands...
blind hearts.
Hard-boiled eyes cry and cry
as they're denied sight.
Cry, with hanging heads, yet spirits bright.
spirits bound by those hard-boiled eyes,
denied their public cries.
I close those eyes and open my heart
seeing clearly for the first time.
Following that source of sight.
...of life
...of light
It shines on me, on you,
on today. It shines onto tomorrow,
Let It Be.
There will be an answer.
Let It Be.
That hour of darkness, hour of ignorance,
yet more of light and truth,
shone through rays.
Let my hands raise, let my head raise...
Praise, Praise!
No five minutes of fame or glory to only one name!
Glory is mine, is yours.
Is his, is hers
Be heard... Be love
Run love run, through my veins and through my thumb,