A warrior spends their living being
attacked by the enemy
do not suppose their enemy possesses
for they belong to the King.
The Quick and the Dead
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Escape – by Passion through Poetry
If all the doors are closed And curtains drawn If there is no light And all is dark There must be A way out, Surely?
Source: Escape
#1870
The skeletons
in my closet
rattle most loudly
when I beg to
shut them out.
#1866
Discover
companionship
within yourself
before knocking on
the locked doors
of vacant homes.
A Poignant Tale
“What a lovely animal,” some say
Others laugh in jest, some pray
A purple ribbon round my neck
Or a heavy burden, gait in check
For so long so many pin
A tall tail, a facile trick
These blinded people laugh and prick
Me time and again to win
The humblest of creatures
Dearly loved or reviled
Bone weary I could not carry
My Saviour to his death
But surely he’ll carry me to mine
Penny Lane
Image
Reporting life
In distorted
Staccato
Sentences
One word in front
Of another
Why bother?
Well, it’s just
A long journey
I intend to take
In order that
My journey and I
Will make
A natural end.
A Penny for your thoughts..
Pilgrim’s Pass
Image
Tried, true, black & blue
So close to fine
To have your back
While roasting mine
Move the body
Do not desire
Still the mind
Do not dwell in the mire
The cooking pit
Half filled with smoke
They prepare the spit
Urge us to revoke
Body in a cage
No chance for a dance?
When the river rages
Don’t take the chance
Watch your footing
Past pilgrims plummet
Can’t see from here
We’re near the summit
Companions of the journey
No critique, compete, comparing
Everlasting prize is ours
His compass for our bearing
In the Box
Image
I picked them all at random
Not noticing the package
I did not want the wrapping
To prevent me from partaking
The first one burst into my mouth
A liquid sweet liquor
The remnants of the cherry
Relished for a moment more
Next was slightly square and hard
But sweet all the same
The longest chew did skew my jaw
Relieved the end it came
Several more of various shapes
Tasted much the same
A smooth blend of flavour unknown
Coloured in different ways
Then the most shocking ones
A sour batch of bites
Some so nasty I spat them out
Hastily cleaned my mouth
For a box labelled favourites
I found so very few
The hard ones tiresome and long
The good ones gone too soon
Mob mentality
It needn’t come as a surprise
The number of people who engage
In some illicit trade
At some point in their lives
Consider the timeless predicament
Of those who choose between
The lucrative path well-travelled
Or some nobler yet modest means
The expense to such persons
Is profound in due course
Decline of mere dignity
Whether or not remorse
Inevitable hostility to
Sheer corrective force
Which leads to an eventual
Incarceration or demise
Or so they say..
For Michael
Snapshot
So I stole one photo that you took and claimed it as mine
I thought you wouldn’t mind but it’s a small token
To repay me for the one of us she never sent
The only one, it’s printed on my mind
Us with our siamese smiles and beer glasses on
Framing us with cider pints, backed by porch lights
The spa filled with artists just out of view
Embracing the awkwardness
Even when scars heal they keep a memory that sometimes
Has a phantom ache to scratch a long lost limb
Forgive me for stealing but if I asked for copyright
To all your contributions it would go on forever
Like a colourful child’s painting smeared endlessly, carefree
All over my mind. So of course if I seek to make an imprint
There will be evidence of your fingerprints everywhere
You are there
As the road trips to reunite become few and far between
A letter to a lost limb and their children unseen
We shared a womb of birth and rebirth, love to self-destruct
I’m still the same as you used to be
Little girl image:
http://consciousnessandthebrain.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/man_in_the_mirror.jpg
Count the stars of heaven 
