It said in its beginning,
. . . “In the image of us”.
Then let all those,
Who keeps to contradict,
Who keeps all hypocrisy,
Wait. . .
He did said it best,
Which one is it.
One or two?
Wait . . .
If there is good
There has to be evil.
Ok. . .
There has to be two.
For if it were only one,
Then reproduction of life was asexual,
Not intersections of life.
Let the words paint a picture,
Let the sky bleed its auburn horizon.
As the sun sees you in your room,
Hiding. . .
Crying. . .
Tries all the tears of your skies.
Fears all of men’s spies.
Paint me my pain.
Please. . .
Don’t let all my wounds heal again.
It will be the colors
Which will be my gallery
To see my selfish gain that which can be attained,
All of it can start again when I leave the day to sleep,
And mourn at night and let them see,
How their mouths affect. . .
How all of it infect,
When they keep my pain intact.
Knowingly it starts again and again.
Sorry out of images, illustrations, drawings on this one.
Set the stage, set me up
Set my mind, list all the characters
Let the snake loose,
Let all birds fly,
Make my minds eye see without sight.
All altitude of others attitudes come forth.
My stance will shift from left to my right,
As I will fight, love, laugh and keep them within my sight.
Then in time with all of my being
I will end it all with pen maybe a pencil too,
An end to all beginning
Will be my downfall,
Yet in any end,
It marks a start of a new stain,
There He will put me in a garden,
Where Eve was kissing Lillith,
And they welcomed me upon where all life
Came beside me,
Withers and deny everything of my wants
Yet the needs of everyone starts to unfold.
As i wake up with no one beside me.
Only a cold summer’s dawning telling me,
Wake up my love.
I drink in this cup,
A love of words
Maybe sometime in the future
Could be read,
And arguing with Plath, Dickinson,Poe
Yes Twain too.
See you around in a day or two.
Look the into the light of the night.
What sleep does bring me into my reality.
Where is my love?
In my horizon I see none but that destination.
In a single step I know I can be there,
Not with these feet,
Not with my eyes,
Little or no motivation to keep me accompanied along the way.
If I am against my heart,
If my mind is away from the heart,
When and then that now understands,
What for are things against for
but never gives in
Yet it gives way in a clearing of a blue skies,
Here in my rainy misty mind’s eye.