stir the spirit's mists then call
it is callously you announce yourself
tender of spirit I tune you out
breathing down my back thinking I won't bite
civility is for those civil
hunted grace, I am guarded
mortal grin then spit
you're at war with yourself not me
halted growth, only got you so far
now you're contemplating
dropped where you step
a snare awaiting your foot
it is no miracle I made it to this age
it was grace and my Father's guarding
sinister need appease yourself
be a slave to your own monsters
my thoughts do not speak to you
so walk southbound and pretend you never saw me
Rated for Mature(17+)
look southward
Bookmark
Summary:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEizKmZlUAw&list=RD9Gnu9u2Owms&index=8
Copyright @ All rights reserved








Chère C.,
A friend of mine wished me a blessed Friday.
I’ve come to absorb your words, art work and waive half of her well wishes to you…
Kind regards, Gus
thank you from you both dearest Gus and friend ❤️
On second thoughts:
The compass points North.
We call that orientation, but the orient is in the east.
If I look west, there’s the North Sea
So it’s only natural for me to look south, now and again. And again.
I Love this…
Your poem makes me wonder…
Kind regards, Gus
thank you dearest Gus I appreciate you and your curiousity ❤️
Classy and scary. Such great craft from you. 🙂
thank you graciously dearest Jim ❤️
Powerfully penned, Brenda. Excellent dark write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
thank you dearest Damian for showing me love on even my blackened offerings ❤️