Words sail on air
landing upon ears shoreline
evil ghost ship.
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Organize paper.
Organize words of story.
Reader’s Reward.
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Love is a magnet
lodged within another.
Invisible pulling.
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A snake is a snake.
Lie of feathers and of feet…
A snake is a snake.
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Waterfall of words
splashing loose on the page
upstream masterpiece.
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Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert
Hallowed void creates a vacuum, and in that desperate pull, one chooses do meddle.
Tell me, scholar of my life…
Enlighten me, one who has intimacy with my circumstance…
When did I in fact hire you, as my handyman of my life?…
When in history, has one chose to meddle, by request.
Dear lost soul, perhaps it is time, to meddle within your own void.
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Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert
To survive life, guilt must be pulled from thought,
like a festering rotten tooth. Negative self image
poisons the brain.
The twisted notion of forgiveness, is often lost,
upon ones own self.
Inside the sparking flesh of the entombed brain,
thoughts dance with dark lightning.
Violations carried out upon humanity
swirl in memories, like a growling tornado.
Guilt of transgression, becomes the script
on the stage of life,
yelling again the wrongs,
that are already carved in bone,
behind the eyes of the accuser.
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Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert
Unmoored heart, steals light from the shore of humanity.
Ropes are burned, while compass is shattered.
Storms over ocean, rage. The abyss drinks lost souls.
Darkness consumes people, who are all that really mattered.
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Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert
What is that notorious place, in the caved hearts of the weary, the bones of yesterday lie? Not lay, LIE. They lie to those who would hold them, study them, and define themselves by them. Life, and biology are systems that demonstrate renewal. A cut heals, rain replenishes rivers, and everyday, the Earth spins into a fresh morning. From days ago, from years ago, from lifetimes ago, yesterday rots in the hearts of the weary. Sculptures made of rotten bone, are erected as memorials to hurt and failure. When someone lets their mine remain captive in the grasp of yesterday, others join into the the lie. Others will take the lead of the one who gives value to the bones. Lost love, bad grades, failed employment, heavy words, all litter the hearts of the weary. Unfortunately, the land of yesterday is dead. Let yesterday be a book on the desk of today, to be used a reference, and not a guide.
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Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert
Zachary W Gilbert, Author 