MY POETRY

LET YOUR WORDS

Let your words flow like a river, from your lips to the ears of those to whom you speak

Let your words not be corrosive, eating away at whoever they touch as water often does over time however, let them serve to nourish as sustain your life and the lives of others.

Let your words act like water to help cleanse you and others, washing away the muck life throws at you to reveal the true beauty beneath.

Let your words be imbibed into the consciousness of others to quench their thirst for knowledge, as water quenches the thirst of dehydration.

Let your words be pure and clear like the water from a natural spring.

Let your words not be a flood drowning out the woes of others, but rather a cascade which washes away the pain and hurt and cleanses the wounds the world has inflicted upon them.

Let your words be precious and carefully chosen, so that once they’re spoken they won’t stain or damage your friendships like water can do when left to puddle.

Let your words allow others  to float upon them like bodies in a sea.

Let your words teem with love like the water John anointed Jesus with in the river Jordan.

Let your words serve as a comfort and source of relaxation like the warm water of a spa filled with bath salts.

Let your words be forever remembered as instruments of change and not tools of stagnation.

Let your words be like a vast armada on an endless ocean, and serve to protect the shores of humanity.

Let your word be like water and those you speak, never be one of regret; as water spilled cannot be undone.

MONDAY NIGHT MISTRESS

I’m a precious gem set upon an emerald sea

The mere sight of me has many men hooked at first sight

I’m fought over constantly by many lovers

I’m a shining example of strength and determination

All of the men I lay down with are in love with me,

And they’re all both wealthy and strong

I can only spend two nights a week with them,

But Monday is our special night, it’s always climactic

Their wives are often neglected,

Although some like to watch

My shapely curves are made for a man’s touch

My chocolate skin glistens with the sweat from their hands

I’m tossed with finesse back and forth; I have no fear of flying

I’m good on top, but usually end up on the bottom

Their passion sends me soaring

I vacation from February to September,

My lovers try to fill the void but yearn for my return

America’s Favorite Pastime

I have been battered.

My pale leathered skin,

beaten into submission.

Stitched together,

by crimson thread.

Traveling about,

from land to land.

Tossed about,

from hand to hand,

in a year-long war,

so that others like me

can make it home.

THE DEEP PURPLE MOOD

The Deep Purple Mood and strange attitude,

Make spring feel like a close friend’s funeral.

My heartbeat is an echo,

To the emptiness of my soul.

The royal hue flows freely,

Escaping its tract, to puddle beneath me.

A river of tears I weep,

As I take my final sleep.

And though I fear,

My time is near,

I still can’t help but wonder.

Had I stuck around,

And held my ground,

Would my vein still be intact?

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