The CURSE of VERSE (for better...worse) - VI

The first stanza of this poem was posted on September 23, 2008. I'm not sure where it's headed or even where it's been. As always - stay tuned.

2

Then I fled, the Mark of Cain upon my head. Which was oddly God's protection since my Brother now lay Dead.

I denied that I was Guilty and I lied yet the One who knew my Truth had Loved me more than I could fathom.

Then the Sinless Self-Professors told their Lies to their Confessors and as One pointed fingers at my Guilt. Shouting DAMNED!

Laughing they said that I'd left my Brother Dead and for me there was no Heaven. It was Hell that I should Dread.

I cried until I bled. I beat my chest. "My Life Instead!"

Once again the Chorus sounded while my beating fists still pounded but the words they said resounded through the Torment in my Soul.

Peace instead. So many years you have ahead to follow forward as a thread to bring you to My side.

... to be continued

The Story I Wish I Could Tell You

The story I wish I could tell you would be filled with a bright light that knew my name. 

The story I wish I could tell you would have familiar faces, gone before. 

The story I wish I could tell you would be a misty vision of my body below as I floated above. 

The story I wish I could tell you would recall my mother's sweet voice reading to me through a fog. 

The story I wish I could tell you would be a galaxy of stars where I weightlessly wandered. 

The story I wish I could tell you would have Him reaching for me and calling me Beloved. 

The story I wish I could tell you might be a frightful place filled with the screams of the Lost. The story I wish I could tell you might crackle and spit with unquenchable fire. 

The story I wish I could tell you would be a dark room forever alone. 

The story I wish I could tell you would be a place, any place at all for me. 

The story I wish I could tell you would have me being...

The story I am left with held no dreams, no torment, no fear. 

Nothing experienced with no one there. 

That's even wrong. 

There was no "there" to hold anyone, anything, any feeling, any darkness.

Peace? Perhaps. But who would know?

She's Just Not Qualified To Be Vice President

I do like her hair down though. Particularly on her arms...

He's A Pickens...

... and I'm a Grinnin'! 

Live Wrong and Prosper, y'all!