Inside this crazy acid denim destiny
I painted all my dreams on pavement
And skinned up both my knees
Threads hanging from skies of gold
Tangled up like ornamental knots
Weave brows to bone I cannot tweeze
And I weep into liturgical vessels
Wondering how I will ever keep
Those who have become my trestle
The foundation made of gems
Blinking their multicolored glow
Those who hold me in their hymns
Falling fast from these eyes upon me
Iβm breaking the chains confining me
Screaming past who I used to be
And climbing to where I should be
No more of these fantasy poured roads
No more glittery braille speaking codes
Just more of you and a place we can roam
Just more of you to guide my heart home
Beautiful! Love it!
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Thank you. I am so glad you did! xoxo
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i n c r e d i b l e writing
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Thank you!!!
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Excellent! I’m going to have to raise my bar. π π
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Are you kidding? I can’t even come close to your bar π
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I must see you differently than you see you and you must see me differently than I see me. β€ π
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Yet with thy erstwhile missal set aside
The bindings to your life slow but sure untied
A nagging doubt – what if those dreams have lied?
Narrow is the road which leads to Home.
O shout for joy, that poured road now forsaken
Your mind clear and your certainty unshaken
Yet this cruel world is not to be mistaken
Stony is the road which leads to Home.
Decide if to your yoke you remain tethered
Eyes wide – what chance that you’ll be tarred and feathered
Peace may be there, after storms are weathered
Winding is the path which leads to Home.
Blank out confused emotions on your face
Some will sanction, others seek to praise
You choose what kind of future you’ll embrace
Rocky is the path which leads to Home.
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I always love when you comment with poetry!
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Reblogged this on georgeforfun.
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Win one for sincerity!
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A win is a win and I like to win sometimes π
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You nailed this to pieces. It’s amazing.
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Wow… I have never had that compliment before… Thank you!
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Poems, like “Just More of You”, are… A place to roam without roads, within that big country, your heart. Something like… Thoughts spinning, weaving across a spring’s tallgrass prairie, as you wander amongst its wild prairie flowers; to sing, waltz, write, all the while, while waiting on a summer’s late evening breezes to arrive. Just like those last four lines, the breezes will soon be sure to come alive; to roam without roads.
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Awww yes who needs roads when you have wings to fly!
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