'free verse'
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One Friday the unthinkable happened. The Son of God died. Not peacefully, in old age surrounded by family and friends, but violently, at age 33, betrayed, abandoned, and denied by His friends, surrounded by enemies like bulls, like ravening, ro
His blood stains your face.
Red streaking down in beautiful, elegant drops.
It feels as if time slows and the world has stopped,
assign me a causeand make me a martyrburn me at the stakeand ascribe some meaning to the flamestake me down in a rain of bulletsand tell the world I died for change
The failures! The consumed! The good-for-nothings! The irresponsible! The immature! The insane!
We are called by so many names that it's hard to keep track of them all,
I find it hard to indulge in the foreign practices that appear before me, especially when
I see them all laughing canonically and seldom sighing in defeat, and when
Her roots run so deep holes look down to glare.
Organic drums placed on her hips cause them to fear.
But it attracts a friend called rhythm, who is smooth.
The god of tricking people, they say he is.
sulking alone in a basket of lies;
however, Loki no longer wants to be under that disguise.
Alone, he sat, watching himself on the screen
i have never really felt enough of anything,
just mere bombardments in the
pit of my stomach
relinquishing all things glorious
Learning to do laundry
Watching the world change
Helping with watching siblings
Going into a new grade
Teaching others how to do certain tasks
Paying bills
You grow a little bit number every year. You grow a little bit more tired every year (are you alright?).
Noticing
Every time I come to the book shop
I see her
mysterious, quiet
the girl with smokey green almond eyes
her hair a deep brown, falling smooth and straight, ends brushing her shoulders
