When you reach the cross roads in a stage of your life,
The stress of a decision can seem to cut you like a knife,
Oh my how do I know what to do; do I trust my feelings inside,
Do I take control and do what has to be done for the ride,
Sometimes it hurts to do what feels so right,
It is worth it; are my feelings worth the fight,
A worthy question to answer with a damn straight,
That's not being selfish so don't take the devils bait,
Take the path you feel has the most love; love's not always seen,
Trust in yourself and your spirit for your spirit is the divines go between.
This land was to remain whole and not meant to divide,
We've created nations for evil to dwell in and hide,
Now is the time we see the mistakes made in the past,
The irony of our Christian beliefs no longer can last,
Open your mind so that you may feel loves connection,
To see the error to have loves kids divided into sections,
It is never too late to right a wrong,
Just that it's been wrong for so long.
Ask the right questions and you can crack your mind,
A treasure chest full of wonder is what you will find,
And an Angel full of anger for being kept in a bind,
The Angels energy shatters the Ego that's been unkind,
Your eyes finally see, you are no longer blind,
Your life energy soars, as it is no longer confined,
You feel my truth as our lives are forever entwined.
RjB is a garbageman by day and a poet by night. He has three children that are his life. RjB resides in a small Canadian town. He writes to provoke thought and intends no more, as the heart beats within, the words freely pour.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Trees Breathe
for me in the silence of the sky . . .
As I claw my way about this jungled past, I land
too rooted to freely believe the light[‘s life] can reach me.
I am my own camouflage – bleeding streams of [ever]green
denial to cover my tracks. I desire the stagnant
steam of this other dawn. It clings to my lungs –
a muffling glove – but does not dare to trip my mind. Up
is blind: a f[l]ightless border I dare not crowd. I gather
weeds (possibly) to seed wings, but my arms
are ti[r]ed. To the wind
I scream: Nothing is balanced! Backward,
I stumble over [star?]crossed beams. Of blight
or sight . . . whichever is able to keep me
solid[ly nailed to the floor].
A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida. She has previously published four collections of poetry: The Difference Between Shadows and Stars, Carrying Yesterday, Cognitive Distortion, and . . . And Other Such Nonsense. She has also published her work in national and international literary journals such as Avon Literary Intelligencer, Writer's Gazette, and The Penwood Review. Find more about A.J. Huffman, including additional information and links to her work at http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000191382454 and https://twitter.com/#!/poetess222.