Incapable of Structure

You may read these things but no one is able to write them
For the future holds no grudges, and offers no solace
To win we must go out and loose
Experience the cold to be warm
Individuals can relate, but we are not connected at the hip
As to why, no one knows
Only that some smile even when no hope is left
Bitter, concrete, immobile and inevitable
Wrinkles offer wisdom
There is so much to learn from the imperfect, that-
I have traded my chalice for:
The comfort of bear hands in a pungent stream,
The warmth of bark on an unreachable back
The peace in running rocks
And the reflection of god in my eyes
For all of these things can do no less
But to point me in one immovable direction

A new feeling

I want my eyes to listen while my ears search
My fingers to think while my brain grasps
My tongue to slice odor as my sent grinds iron
It is the tip of every mountain that pierces my veins
These blades of grass prod in torture
But I am safe because I know I have done no wrong
I am not the one who poisoned our mother
But there is always a catch, one more than twenty one
I am alone in feeling the soft touches of morbid vegetation
Rasping my little hairs that stand in attention
For death is near, as the poison still lingers in the air
This does not stop my drive for recantation
Repetition until the last is gone….look up
There is a hand in the darkness waiting to pull you up
And until I go I will frame this picture
So that every eye can feed upon it, hope my friend, hope.
This very picture tells me
I am employed for eternity
And if the light don’t disappear
I’ll be here
Reviving the faith obtained from the compost pile