Propounding

Great writers pay a tragic price

For relatable words, they’ll utter

Transcendental storms of truths

Come full circle every other decade

Beset in priori and posterior battles

Where the writer clings to what was

As life drags them along to what is

Broken, scarred but still ever faithful

To their heart, bleeding or otherwise

Their tormented mind cries silently

Only their soul keeps them together

Time passes: they eventually recover

Being one of life’s humanistic muses

To express renewed tragical…truths

Accentuation

It was a Saturday evening

Cooler summer breeze blew

Clouds intervened the sun

You wore a new gold dress

And in one glace- stole me

I was in the near shadows

Beneath cottonwood trees

You were across the street

Your smile and the laughter

Overwhelmed my heartbeats

Oblivious to my surrounds

I crossed without- looking

Horns honked; people balked

All that mattered… was you

Substance

I know not of such greatness

Of writing like others praised

Or those known great speakers

So many of the learned bestow

I’m of but meek talent and heart

Oft conveying my mission work

Relating what I do comprehend

From an observing kind of mind

Of keen eyes for subject matter

Even if it matters not to others

I toil in multi-states of existence

The way a painter does a canvas

Striving for unattainable perfect

By an imperfect subject… accepted

Be causal

Maturity- is not time fixed

But my ego never knew this

Required changes took place

Cause I once needed to be seen

Or needed to be heard aloud

Craved to be believed or loved

I’ve reached my summit- of self

Humbled by silence observantly

Where I then understood greater

All that I was not– ignorantly

Realizing my home was the valley

Where lush lives live by necessity

Where I’ve become in authenticity

To thrive in my own… genuineness

Droughts

I returned to our beach

And the sun broke early

I sat, recalling you, and us

I found an abandoned pail

I began making sandcastles

And I was trying to recapture

Life in motion from memories

But I was having little luck

They crumbled over an over

How I empathized with them

Struggling to remain strong

To at least appear- alright

The lake water had dried up

All I had left fell… from my eyes

Pride, prejudice, and pettiness

The only real passion you held

Was your own self-admiration

Seeing success in materialism

Gaines off other’s misfortunes

You despised anyone- different

Who offered commoners help

Or gave away valuable advise

Entirely secured in themselves

It made you colder and cunning

Relationships were but punitive

Praise was your drug of choice

You loved the taste of revenge

Yet, you go to bed humiliated

Incapable of being …charitable

Undoubtedly

I spent so much time in darkness

That one day it befriended me

It was as if a new door opened

I felt absorbed into its essence

Finally, the fear I carried left too

I heard vesper whisper of prayers

Yet, there were no bodily presence

Understanding each of their words

Interpreted through my emotions

A zephyr caused chills, then peace

Then came an orb of buoyant light

Suddenly the space was lit alive

As I calmly looked over to my left

There stood Christ… holding my hand

Inspired by my love for my siblings.

May you never feel alone in darkness.

I love you all dearly, Rick

Thomas: 77b

Simulationship

My life has never been perfect

And I’ve reconciled to that fact

I’m not sure I’d know perfection

If it stood before me personally

At least in context often misused

I’ve known a gauntlet of darkness

Well enough I could trek it blind

As I do in my reality- instinctively

Weaving across constructs of life

In and out of greys and shadows

Or relationships ups and downs

More so when friends become foes

My best comes- when familyships

Treat me more like…a human stain

Cogency

I seem to be living in a time

Doubt rises with the dawn

Long before I open my eyes

I got a whole lot going on

Winds of change circle me

Like a cloud of confusion

Nothing is gained or freed

I’m left with no one to talk to

Lord knows- this ain’t easy

But I wish it could be with you

Knowing you were listening

Made all the difference for me

When I felt like I was being heard

And my words mattered… too

Profundity

Nearly all we do is transitory

Much like many aspects of life

Happiness itself- is oft fleeting

In its very authentical fashion

From one moment to moments

Chaos only reins in its absence

We are so sensitive to change

To those often-missed nuances

Noticing more the empty voids

Attributing something outside

Of our own self for love and joy

Oft correlated it to other people

Forgetting we are centrical to it

As both may seek refuge… in us

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