"What To Give"

And of course along with the seven deadly sins I HAD to be inspired to write about the seven heavenly virtues as well....

A nun praising her holy lord,

The light that she,

long adored.

Lies beneath the apple tree

And smiles with loving purity.

Procrastinate, and nothings done

And soon weekend’s,

no longer fun.

Living in a world of stand-stilled

Silence,

Never aids a small act of diligence.

Darkened days in a cardboard home

Sleeping still with a pillow of foam.

A warming cover,

what rarity?

To wake,

coated in curious charity.

Bottle empty, no final drop

Curving lips

that seem to flop.

An addict; six months of soberness

Swells with courageous

temperance.

A violent whipping of whistling blows, as

A fire soaring high, where

mountains once rose. To lay down your arms,

let our wars be ceased

And let this world be encumbered with a gracing peace.

So much to live for, but what to give?

A deepening cut force one

to only relive.

A feel, a gentle yet curious caress

From warming eyes of blissful kindness.

A fiery taste; the fire more savory

Inhaled through lungs

with gallant bravery.

A piercing conscious is never free

Until it floods itself with alluring modesty. 

I've Only Just Begun!

In order to achieve anything, we have start somewhere. Everyone that has become successful in life started as what many of us are; entrepeneurs and dreamers. The hardest part is the beginning....Do what you love, love what you do....

It's more than just a game you see

So many rare, delicious possibilities.

Scramble, soar, eagles flying

But amusements only far as this earth is dying.

You never know what days your last

But hope you regret, nothings last.

All the friends and all the memories

Fill all the moments of sadden melodies.

Now go on and listen to all those tales

Without even trying until you’ve failed.

Holding onto what may never be seeming

Stays alone in your head if you don’t go achieving.

Have you ever made love to a screaming banshee

Or how you’d fill this hole that slowly devours me?

This game we play is our story, our ending it seems

If you never admit to the destroying of things,

The living of thoughts you hand over to me, to one

Another you see, this passion slowly,

It’s tiding tears, devouring thee.