Poetry-Thing Thursday: For Me, For You

Nicotine stains my fingers,
while they beat a rhythm over keys.
Color flickers beneath them,
from multicolored LEDs.

What do I say?
To Whom do I say it?
Hope and love and peace,
things I used to preach.

But now things have changed.
My mind’s estranged–
not from reality,
but sheer morality;

the is and the was,
the what and the how,
even the where,
is not the now.

Slaving each day,
for no monetary pay.
I’m crazy some say–
or stupid, in a way.

But I do what I do,
for the hope of all,
to read and to listen,
let reason befall.

Whether for its own benefit,
or the mere fun of it.
I give you words.
Let them be heard,

and perhaps felt,
by one and by all,
whether big or small,
I give them to you,
so we might never fall.

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Poetry-Thing Thursday: Entertain The Dead

Breathe fire.
Light my pyre.
Beat the funeral drum,
feel the rhythm.

Entertain the dead,
no matter your dread,
for their station is long,
and they’re in need of song.

Bring them together,
and incite with a feather,
that tickles their minds and hearts,
ensures they play their parts.

For the passed,
will always outlast,
those of us whom on the Earth live,
ever-subject to death’s sieve.

Embrace the lovers,
fight the fighters,
enchain those that wish to be,
and chase those that wish to flee.

Whatever their poison,
choose it with poise ‘n,
embrace them eternally.
Only then can we be free–

Free to see,
What life’s passing eternity,
has for the liberated,
only then might hunger be sated,
And only then might life thus be rated,
and only then might the risks go un-stated,
and only then might the created,
find peace and entertain the dead.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis is a change,
one of greater range,
than shifted perspective or minor amendment.

It is the growth of one,
whom once graced by the sun,
finds peace in themselves and their surroundings.

It is the molting,
of a deep inner soul-thing,
and not to be taken without its grains of salt.

Ne’er to be avoided,
but reaped and rewarded,
is one with patience and agility.

When at last,
no longer the past,
plots and paths the future’s course,

Then Metamorphosis,
hath formed unbeatable forces,
of mind and heart and body.

Once cocooned,
those that it’s roomed,
fear reprisal and grace.

But on the other side,
flows a great tide,
that welcomes all with willing arms.

Fear not,
the change that you’ve got,
for it is nothing more,
than a metamorphosis,
soul-fire, that’s sore,
from long being hidden.

Find peace,
in release,
of burdens and fears,
then metamorphose,
all whom oppose those,
and return to life appeased.