UNGUARDED

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POEM – UNGUARDED

Fears abound forcing the need to hide behind broken glass.

Counting the shards delicately to perfect the morass.

Admitting being wrong and guarded for too long.

Sharing this fragile tank would have been wrong.

The wolfs howl can no longer be heard.

The moon smiles on the white hummingbird.

Beckoning that it colours her any colour that it wants.

In all shades of the Casablanca lily plant.

Open from ground and above.

She is unguarded in love.

My poem for Art by @fayhelfer

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MY TURN

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POEM – MY TURN

Watching watching they be watching waiting.

Still scratching feenin they be wanting needing.

That rose that made it through the rough they wonder.

Asking asking how the dirt stayed perfectly under.

Why did the Lord make it rain with silent thunder.

But I made it through the dirt mans rope.

Showed the world that a broken man can still have hope.

But the black raven got me, my card was marked to be forgotten.

No regard for life I was shut down by the evil omen.

I’m high up now looking down on them.

They now have their cards marked I’m comin.

It’s my turn now to X backs and return what’s taken.

None of them are forgiven, so now who’s laughing.

My poem with art by @london_artist

EMPTY RICH

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POEM – EMPTY RICH

Gold gates bolted onto sand pillars.

Mahogany trees sprouting from concrete mirrors.

Crystal pathway leading up to a 6 story diamond covered tin house.

Platinum front door handle glimmering of plenty.

Marbled floors hosting the a cardboard dinner table ineptly.

Cold tin of beans roasting in the golden aga.

Dead roses line the windows of this psychodrama.

Passers by admire the riches they can see.

The oohs and aaahs transpire into ungrounded jealousy.

They think they know, they think they know the truth.

They want that life, they also want a diamond roof.

What they don’t know is the sadness behind the glitz.

It’s an empty rich house with the biggest of all pits.

A hole in the foundation, where the heart should be.

They would choose mud huts if only they could really see.

For those simple huts are made with bare hands and love for a family.

Poem by me
Art by @ilovehash