Devil of a Shout

 

 

 

Title art by Ellen von Unwerth

 

Listen to Live Reading

 

 

 

Thank you doesn’t even begin to cut the mustard. To every single last one of you reading this now, just wanted to let you know the luster you empower in a mane once dull, annulled from all things tried and trusted. Thus, I plan to shower you in blessings on this day. Remind of how your words of kindness chase storm clouds away; replace with warmest front and merry multitude of luminescent rays. May not be ever present but then maybe I never ever went away. Simply needed time to find the reason to my rhyme again. Face the demons leading me astray before they infiltrated smile which had no right to leave my face. Twist it into gnarly shapes and season with the grapes of wrath, lead it down the primrose path and steal its season pass away.

 

Had to be another way than forfeit wicked game which played to scorned audience day after bleeding day. And if I may be quite so bold as to grab you in a choke hold; then rest assured you’ll feel adored enough to steal your breath away. Any less than that and this big cat would have to face the fact that tracks of tears have led my fears a dance of soon departed and dragooned the inner artist true with much ado and nothing new to touch upon when reeling out of sense and feeling blue. You see me. And sincerely, I see you. We both do. Two dark artists fighting for our right to start anew. Leave the past behind us, open blinds and marvel at a view no longer quite so bleak, uncompromising.

 

Speak of the devil, it is all about fine detail and this is where your kindness gives tired eyes a timely boost. Not about ruling the roost and anyone suggesting such is out of touch with something nothing less than dressed in truth. Only wish to convalesce within the company of those composed to symphony of finite synchronicity. Find our own divinity, do so arm in bloody arm and march on to this brave new world with well-earned sense of calm. Not everything is written in the stars. The soul within is precinct to the essence we impress upon when sat upon the precipice of ever-blessed charm. First do no harm, trust the gut and we depart our ruts with blood and guts to glorify the healing balm denied by wayward stride towards the river blind.

 

Seeing is believing and believing means retrieving that deprived us by the sighs of reading needless deeds between the lines. Should we trust said guts or jut our lips out like suspicious trout and grout the wall of wisdom with the filler of the ignorant? Much rather make provisions for the vision of the sightless, contradictive¬†as that may well sound, it does lead to the higher ground. For whence we leap with faith and blind, we redesign the playing field and yield a harvest rich in the aroma of the inner-sighted. Where everyone’s invited to get dreadfully excited at the prospect of a better dressed tomorrow. Sorrow’s left no place to go upon such time as bliss enlists a kiss and tell approach to giving down low heightened sense of where to go.

 

Following the soul, we then parole the essence underspent by ventures trending misadventure, pending end of days. We’re slowly dying day by day, or so they say, but who they are is neither here nor there for they declare unfair dismissal. Thanks to gestures paving way to breaking waves that crash and dash our hopes to snatch our dreams away, these lovely bones ain’t brittle. Committed to the cause akin to rebels missing pauses, dissing clauses we abhor for they make faces unadoringly. Our story tells itself when inked within such wealth of kindred spirit, suddenly the game it changes. And glancing cross a sea of such infinitely kindly faces places us back in it.

 

This is love. Make no mistake. Can really be no other way. For every single leap of faith we take stakes claim to better place. Not about the validation, no blueprints for global domination. Just footprints in the sand. And a low tide which can spirit us away, providing pride of place to timeless grace transcendent of both time and outer space. With your support and love in constant spray, we bloom together. All bones are then exhumed, providing elbow room to zoom beyond the stars in passing, evermore advancing. Thank you, one and all, for acts of calling out the cynical; depression may be clinical but happiness is pivotal to leaping over divots in our slipstream. Onward christian soldiers, only kidding, something far less unforgiving as we’re living in a brave new world you see. If in doubt, remain devout. All else will figure itself out as, when surrounded by belief, we are all in before the river with a devil of a shout.

 

 

GREY KEEPER FRAME

1 Comment

  1. “Seeing is believing and believing means retrieving that deprived us by the sighs of reading needless deeds between the lines” you could be describing my twitter life.
    Happy Valentine’s Day and many more to come.

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