The way I see things...

The truth is out
and though I speak not in tongues
I know its identity.

My conscience bleeds; I'm not saved.

I look above and I see the heavens open
I look below and I see the damp black soil.

I look from the outside into my own life and I see death.
I look at the anointed dead and I see a new life.

Truth is, like knittings we have much we share in common; same patterns.
Sadly, like knittings we fall apart so easily.

The world desensitized by lies...

I witness a moment's suicide to end its past but create a future history for those who witness...

Learn from the mistakes of others...

He who is in need beholds the rubric of judgment, like a human scavenger extending his empty hand wide open.

And you feed him not, your heart be judged by his need.

A scare crow stands at mid-field..
Like black crows we fill the skies but no one sees the good in us.

You expect me to fall but like a black cat I fall and manage to land on my feet.

No more hate...

Put to exile, like a marching army it uniformly marches out of my life...

Though sometimes hate manages to coma fledge deep within the density of my mind...


Hate speaks and says an eye for an eye.
Love says we'll all go blind.

Its as if everything that we don't like brings us closer to the truth of whom we really are...

Murder of Rose...

The church's bell must ring
and the conscious of sin must enter for soul cleansing.

For thy innocent and beautiful pay the price of death for love and grace.
Be it to commemorate a significant event.

For this lead to the murder of rose.

Filled with beauty and an endless perception of love and romance
A stranger's dagger brought end of life with bare hand.

lived a life a bit too short
had a life but ended at start.

she lived a life whereby beauty and death brought love or close
an image of an identical reflection of all same features.

Lived in a please where colors meant nothing to compliment the dead.

No sunlight...
No pain...

No Sentiment...

She grew for someone so heartless to take away her innocence.
Something so pure and delicate...
Not feathers of angels could be softer that her very petals...

She was deflowered...

She was murdered...

Murder of rose...

A moment whereby time betrayed what was meant to be
and an untamed reality off leash brought to eyes something I was not to see.

Once again like a wild horse stampede, my thoughts race to the endless dirt road.

where angels fly high and pain hurts no more...

Death Of Rose.

Like Amber

The sun shines,the sea swallows the sun.

The Moon is out...

The wind blows,the palms sway from side to side.

The sun stings and the salt water burns my eyes.

The clouds float like you and like me...

They are going somewhere but yet no where or at least we don't know...

No tears but the burn inside.

I am at home, but not in town.

Like Amber

But only this one is a trapped memory;not fossils.

No matter where I go; I'll always take you with me,like Amber.

The mind is like amber with in you and with in me...