FLAME OF PASSION

A thought is like a match’s flame

It burns the tired mind to life

And yet the fire has no care

Its passion moves it evermore

To seek more kindling for its throat

It hungers, drives the body mad

In haste, desiring it to act

Upon its ancient urges set ablaze

A splash of water of the flame

Will temper madness once unchecked

Refining passion’s blurring speed

It turns precise within the cold

Just like a blade, once hellish hot

Is cooled and dried. And only then,

Once honed, it does its proper work.

– theresurreccionofkevin

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A DROP OF COFFEE

Just like a drop of coffee in a pot

It spends its birth with form outstretched

A yearning, longing to be free

From home. With weight and gravity

It learns and leans and wrenches free

Alive at last, it plummets to its end.

Perfected in a moment’s time

And living in a moment’s time

But in a moment’s time, is gone

NUMBNESS AND COLDNESS

I’ve wandered far from home. I hear

The gentle sound of splashing waves

Entice me like a mother’s song

A lonely river lies between the trees

I dip my aching feet into the waves

The cold stings needlepoints

Into my skin. And yet, the fire cools

And numbness grows. I welcome this,

This comfort from the aches and pains

I dragged with me all day. And yet,

Another ache emerges from the cold

Not from the body, from the heart

The morning breeze sends chills through me

And memories of warmth, of home,

Of hope. A pang of hunger shakes my bones

I stand, I lace my boots and go

The world is cold and warmth is gold

And all the gold is nothing next to home.

– theresurreccionofkevin

PUT DOWN

Put down your worries and your cares

Put down your anger and your rage

That eats your heart and tears the page

You wrote, of fondest memories and hopes

Put down the book, put down the pen

There’s no time left to think,

And when the final hour strikes its echoed song

It’s time to leave. This time it ends.

– theresurreccionofkevin

CROSSWALK

This road divides us, you and I

The lights that flicker green to red

A signal, like a lighthouse rock

Upon the distant shore. I swore

I saw you calling, drawing light

Into my eyes, so tired of the bright

And glaring sight. Ignoring you,

I wanted only rest and sleep.

Your thankless duty did you keep

Until the signal dimmed at last

And tiny stars did cross my sight

Along with night. And I embrace

My cold and bitter cross. My loss,

Because I did not cross.

PAPER OR PLASTIC

And every day I’m called to choose

The paper or the plastic bag

To carry with me all my blues

Beliefs, convictions, waving flags

Of plastic. Sturdy, simple, strong

Yet thrown, discarded, left to die

Like plastic party masks, a face

Now frozen, gapes with hollow eyes

A never-rotting peace in space

Eternal laughter etched in place

I choose the paper trail. Again

And always. Soft and crumpled down

With gentle touch from mice and men

Yet gentle in embrace, its frown

Gives way to smiles and hearty mirth

So fragile, tears apart with tears

I fear it cannot last. Away

It folds and burns, and yet it feels

As I do, crumpled as I am

By other hands. Yet carry on

The carrying and caring