The grail

Old bones

ancient thrones

no where to sit

I write thrift shop poetry

so I can be with you

forgive you

for writing graffiti all over my wall

some beggars stand tall

amidst the rubble

some people like power, I admit it’s trouble

I want to set sail

find the holy grail

but she’s already found

I want to sing songs make sounds

I want to kiss her pursed lips

but mad quips make me a fool

I just drool

but pennies fall down wishing wells

I yearn for her voice it’s all I hear

but in the door way to other worlds

I may find her

or a kinder version

it’s the waters the cup of immersion.

My little Empire

My dreams,my schemes,my silence, my words

scattered about

My legacy doesn’t speak doubt

You will see gold glinting in the corner of your eye

diamond tears wept

that kept you alive

because you drank from their cup

I am

You

You

are

me

This life is better

this life is enough

when you acknowledge we all have empires

we are enough…