The Prisons

The ice cold steel bars 

are inside my own head.

The guards are not.

Oh, to be anywhere instead!

I can't make a move

I can't appear to think.

The One outside

keeps me and holds me in this clink

I don't know what's worse,

the jail that's inside,

the one in my soul,

or the prison I'm in outside.

Final Freedom

Freedom:
You don't care
what I say or do
as long as it
doesn't impact you.


My life 
means nothing
if I stay clear
of you at all;
don't increase your fear.


Freedom,
Worthlessness
means that I can
do what I must
to make my last stand.


Best part:
No one cares
except for one;
she's better off
after I am gone.


Dark? Yes.
But it's true,
the way I feel.

Now, it may pass, 
right now it is real.

The End of The Tunnel

At the end of the tunnel
there should be a light
or so I've been told.


It could be a train you know
or it could be hope;
how will it unfold?


So I walk towards the light
outcome uncertain;
my fate uncontrolled.


The path becomes constricted
too tight to turn back;
what's to be unfolds.


The light now becomes larger
and brighter I see;
to the path I hold.


Too late I see what it is
I hear it now too.
The train I behold.


"Oh well, "I say to myself.
"It's over now, Me."
Why is it so cold?


Now I see another light
and tunnel ahead
calling to my soul.


So, it's been foretold.

The One

Who is the One?
Is it you?
Is it a friend?


Who is the One?
Is it he,
one who offends?


Who is the One?
Is it she
who does contend?


Who is the One?
it is all;
who walls ascend.


Who is the One?
It is God
Who transcends.

Vertigo

Vertigo


If the psyche has an inner ear
mine must be infected
The unsteady whirling 
of my soul leaves me off balance.
Emotional dizziness, spinning,
always uncertain where the
merry go round will stop.
Never sure on my feet,
uncertain at best, and falling
headfirst into the blackness 
below me. Catch me, I'm falling...

The Tragic Soul

The tragic soul yearns for better things: 
it looks beyond the cross 
and reaches past the tomb 
to seek for life unbound by age, it sings. 

The tragic soul yearns for lovers' sighs: 
it soars beyond itself 
and reaches past body 
to seek for love unbound by lust, it cries.
 
The tragic soul yearns for bluer skies: 
it leaps beyond itself 
and reaches past the clouds 
to seek freedom unbound by Earth, it flies. 

The tragic soul yearns for some answers: 
it looks inside itself 
and reaches past questions 
to seek faith unbound by death, it dances. 

The tragic soul yearns for better things: 
it looks beyond the cross 
and reaches past the tomb 
to seek for life unbound by age, it sings.