Grave Digging

A complicated heart, who can deal with?
Simplicity is the answer,  just Be . . . Really
I think it’s the mind that get’s gravely twisted.

When that happens,
too many Blessings are missed.
When you try . . .
to make it happen.

You may as well bury it
on a grassy knoll or
burn it on the pyre, maybe
cast it into the sea.

Key word above contains a grave
no way to protect or save.
Love freely and graciously
without pushy control.
Whatever “it” is, seems incomprehensible to me.

Love is not control, these are chains with sharp edges
like a barbed wire fence gouging
digging in to your supposed love ones, god
that shit makes me wanna run.

I also wanna talk a bit on the so-called friends.
Yeah, you’re a fair-weather one
with the slick storm . . .

that moldy carrot on a string
to me you bring . . .

I’m not buying, you cannot touch me.

Trying to get close
to my own prize, through me.
Find your own, and give yourself
a chance to love freely.

You’re a star, you shine so bright
and then your edges, you tarnish and
turn your heart and bones  into rotting skeletal carnage.
A meal of compositional cabbage garbage.

Fly strong, soar high, take your own flight.
You’ll be surprised at where you might be tonight.

A complicated heart, who can deal with?
Simplicity is the answer,  just Be . . . Really
I think it’s the mind that get’s gravely twisted.
So sad, so sad to me, it’s all in the simplicity.

Can’t you see?

© Janet P. Caldwell September 08, 2012

PIC: Google Images ~ Royalty Free