Where did all the good men go? Standing as a pedestal for his sons and daughters to reach higher. Noble is so bold, so old, so forgotten. Selfish seeps in like a snake in the night. The venom runs deep now in the blood line of our children. Grey grandfather knew hard work and honest life. His hands tough and weathered, signs of genuine love.
My blood is bold. My forefathers, I thank. My hands will callus for love. My heart will bleed for the hearts of my sons.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Kerosene, gasoline, the fire starts here. Light the match that burns hotter than the anger from the year. These are the days when stones are placed for walking and walls are made for blocking. Say the words that we take to the grave when it's too late for our souls to save. The bridge creaks and groans as it bellows its last goodbye. The winds from the heat whisper a sweet sigh. It's over and done and terrifying to see. I only wish in the end it was me. These flames, vicious, your acts, malicious. Not fire with fire just sick of this mire. No need to come back, the crossing is gone. With my head up high, I look toward the dawn.