The Waging
Revelry, Like a steady cavalry And in the waging, We mold ourselves In the rituals of forgiveness And slain memories Shed our battered elements Like old helmets rusting
___________________
In guarding freedom, Slain is the heart of personal gain.
_________________
Like blues and greens And the shaded dark between them Assembling our sight with the reason of distinction But it’s all a part of the landscape Penetrating our lenses With the horizon of desire We piece together smiles, And the finer things That christen our memory And make love a blistering cold Averting the madness of pain Of the blinded life.
______________
If friends were only in plain sight, I might swallow the shaded darkness For the dread of never again remembering The love of a friend Or a kindred heart
_______________
And where do our tears go? Do they crush the banks of heaven? Or the shores, Or the swells of the ocean?
_______________________
Immerse me in the wound of rebirth That are the valves of my heart My pumping fists and fingers And the oceans hold emotion So how could they feel so far?
______________
How could their salt forget to flavor my lips? And coat my striding limbs with sand Of not marching towards the same burning breast, Melting towards the same gilded core.
__________________
A tragedy would it be That the sword’s blade blind our view Of the open ocean, The ocean-it holds hope in our hands Lost between the mind And the sliver cutting edge. Heavy are the shoulders of delusion.
________________
We mold ourselves In the ritual of forgiveness- What shame has buried in our bones Deep beyond the wounds of shaded darkness Or the blisters of trampled generations Escaping, Rebuilding pores.
_________________
It is the tip of the blade, It is the point That measures the weight of the world. The oceans and our hopes, Blooded hands, It is the point From which the sum of everything Is pierced and bleeds the sun.
___________________
It is the point that blades the heart to form And copes the vivacious core Like the heavens were behind its force And the hells hidden deep beneath our bones, Under shaky hands and slain memories Beneath Athena and her lustful whispers, But I a cloud guarding forgiveness As if it were shared in the taste of bitter wine.
















