Wednesday, January 23, 2008

I am the World Where Darkness Revolves

This is no pen,
but with it, I write on flesh.
On paper, it drips
the emptiness that is me--
filled only by a rhythm.
I am alone,
yet where I stand
I am the world
where darkness revolves.

Sins of an Erratic Heart

Again, I write
on crumpled paper-skin.
Darker inks are deeper scars.

I'm fading
in and out of words,
fading, in
and out
like the sunsets
and a ceiling fan
and an empty bottle spinning.
So before these memories
swirl and fade,
let me write all
on crumpled paper-skin.

Three lines, with my name on it.
Three lines, with my hate on it.
Three lines, with all my tears,
and the last lines bearing love.

Heaven's Gates

Erase the memories of a saint,
let him live a life
knowing only the coldness of turmoil.
If he murders people,
in this new life,
will the gates of heaven open?

But, erase the memories of a killer,
let him live a life in kindness and love,
if here, he saves lives
will the gates of heaven open?

Our Love

We are the sky
and beyond,
the earth,
and beneath,
the waters
ever deep,
that if there was a way to measure love
then our love would be unmeasurable.