it's a holiday carrying only incinerated dreams,
childhood memories gather on aged pine floor boards
falling one-bye-one from
the crowing corners of eyes,
at the switch of the lights
this year I'll tell you thanks,
for the seed of thought
in me that bloomed into independence
and stubbornness,
a valiant passion
coarsing in each la-dub
of my heart's chambers,
years of youth were dicated by youth and madness,
it's ill-fating the words
constant in their attack to the present,
were slipped precariously from foreign lips
and tongues with no soul,
broken down the middle,
let go and release the weight,
take the poker and stoke
the burning embers,
walking the zig zagged line
of a stone walled heart,
the only gray haze emotion left
is the one of survival,
gray haze of survival,
it's a love not supported by deed,
a facade to the green
in the veins and arteries
with yellow crossing the eyes,
it's always a battle
to effectively manage
both sides of the game and referee,
even after the regs. changed
and people came and went
the old habits are forbidden
from passing away into a
former time,
all the whimpering soul
wants is love to become pure,
given in respect,
it sets out in its image
each passing moment of life
demonstrate fading hopes.