#partsofmorgan

[partsofmorgan-blog1]

An Ode to Being Over-Worked and Under-Paid

Just because something is and has been and will be,

does not mean that I have, do and ever will accept that this is all there is.

I deserve more.

Spit in my face will not make me a martyr to the cause.

I'd rather lie in wait, trip the giant and plunge a steak through the thick skull of a tyrant.

I would rather remove each finger, joint by joint and silently feed it back to my slave master.

I'd rather rip out the bowels of Cerberous with my teeth than accept that I only deserve the minimum you have to offer.

Warriors deal in blood.

Not negotiation.

- @partsofMorgan

[partsofmorgan-blog1]

Some Kind of Wonderful

I don't know her anymore.

How did she get her shit together and run so fast.

Bullet from the barrel, dragonfly wings and heart beats had not passed and she went from girl to Mistress of the Gods.

Propped atop the sun, legs crossed and singing she has fucked the earth.

Turned the universe on it's head she lay with God, filled with the fire of stars.

She roars and mother nature bows down, the moon weeps and tide stops dancing. Father time and I join hands.

In time, I am preserved, in whipped sand, top of the game and still climbing bare foot, no ropes.

Gritted teeth and guts spill from my eyes but I can no longer tumble in to dark.

[partsofmorgan-blog1]

Bald Eagle

Your ivy arms hold no thorns, your endless eyes do not hypnotise.

I am no captive Eagle.

I only dream of locked talons and tumbling through the sky.

[partsofmorgan-blog1]

A Double Edged Sword

Guys! It's #NationalPoetryDay2018! Can't miss the opportunity. Anybody wish to give feedback, I'm open. I knowwwwwww this isn't perfect. XX love ya XX

[partsofmorgan-blog1]

L'appel du Vide

Parachutes can only get you so far. There comes a time when we must shrug off what's safe and commit to free fall in order to grasp the very essence of ourselves. To keep ourselves soaring above amongst the clouds. And as we look around, safely drifting around with a pack carefully prepared for us by someone else, we see that this is not the reason for living. The view is beautiful, but not yet ours. The time has come. Fight or flight that will make or break. Elevate or depreciate. The void calls us, L'appel du Vide, as the skies turn pink and the Sun sinks below the horizon. Because soon the rushing darkness will arrive and the parachute can not guide us past the trees that lie between here and the ground. Having lost sight, must only trust ourselves. Nothing has changed. By shrugging off what's safe and committing to free fall, we will grasp the very essence of ourselves. We are our own guides. So lead the way.