KetchUp With Myk'l

KetchUp With Myk'l

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Thanks & Peace!

March Later

All he knows is this

Time passed is time sufficed

A deep dive into the avenue taken out of prize

and for spoils do they return...

Later for lovers

Nows the time for conversation, legislation, congregation patience

Later for lovers

Nows the time for education, revocation, reconciliation nation

Lay ya lady lazy crazy baby babay

Until we’re coming out of the sky

Rivers of dreams that never will be

Flowing in circles never into the sea

Love&Apocalypse

You washed

upon a dazzling beach at noon

with diamonds in your eyebrows

and glittering coral

hanging from your hair

sweeping the sands of time from your waist

Your hands and breast alike

are as cups filled

with a nurturing ambrosious of wisdom

that founts forth

from within your loins

Your voice is the hushed sound

of cosmic knowledge

wearied from its travel

through your channel

Your presence is an awesome

and ever startling event

even to the eyes of the souls

of strangers and laymen

A Vision

as the Rainbow

chaining Canyons

adjacented between the River

hidden beneath a fog

Beautiful as Love

and Apocalypse

Native to my spirit

Fascination in flowering form

Who Will Hear

The rivers and the ocean will claim his skin clean as their own.

The mountain will whisper the story of his broken heart to the clouds,

And the sun will pity the sky, and she will cry tears for him.

And, in the morning the dandelions and lilacs will awaken with the dew pure of his youth sweeping their brow into the soil.

The dirt will smile for each footprint it keeps, and each footprint it counts until lift off and he's flew from it.

The wind will whistle his song as it did into his ear even before he’d heard it first.

The animals will gossip of his courage, and edify him as a beautiful fool with whom they've with, and learned from, and each star his eye’s met will witness to the animals testimony.

The moon will keep his secrets, and soften pale the path of his lurking lusts, lest his fellowmen follow.

And of these, none will have spared his soul to burn with love.

For with man there is non to share as he would with his woman.

The Price of Freedom

Fresh Out

From desk to desk, top bunk and cot to low bed under new fan.

I return no less, yet only that much more a man, I am.

I love and loved, my heart a public pulley.

I’ve pushed and shoved, been victim, perhaps. Been bully.

I cringed and cried in silence, and aloud I sang “Forgiveness please!”

Bled, punctured from the ethers trident. Bowed, and counted my sinless deeds.

I questioned “Why now!? So close, so far! Can I not reach out to call?”

Yet for no answer, I clenched my open scars, as pain rendered me to my knees to crawl.

The message that I have received, would seem on time if t’were not late.

She sings to me, and sad I grieve, to see her beauty strong, and soft, and slate.

My affection, and my service I gave her time and time on end.

I pity me then. How worthless, I bade her mine, and pined and primed.

And though my Ruby has returned, her sorrow grips me still.

Yet for my duty, pray I earn tomorrow’s lips be frill.

Yes, from my Ruby, nay I’ll turn. Tomorrow’s lips be frill.