The flower blooms
Based on water, dirt, sun, and groom
When we nourish
We flourish
What we groom blooms
We bloom our Grooms
nature
Crumbs are Not Love
We all deserve abundant love
Not the kind that binds you
The type that blinds you
Leaving emptiness and crumbs
We deserve the kind of love
That takes your breath away and breathes
The kind that gives you butterflies
The love that makes you feel seen
Love that understands and feels with you
Intoxicated not confused
Appreciated not abused
They say love hurts
but I don’t believe that is true
Crumbs Hurt
Abundant Love Heals and Grows
Reciprocal Vibes
Give a seed water, a plant blooms
Give a child love, a heart soothes
Give a kind touch, a person heals
Give understanding, someone feels seen
No words necessary
Emotional erosion
Of unhealed wounds & pain
Turned into abundant love
Not a word was said
Story of a Flower
What is a flower
start from a bud
from a tiny little seed
that grows when you feed
no need for greed
a simple flower flourished
cared, watered, nourished
the pedals feathered
multicolored weathered
storms, rains, winds, and hail
the tiny plant prevail
from a seed, bud, plant, flower
photosynthesis bloom
Mourning Words
Mourning Words
Sadness, depression, obsessions
Sedation, regression, never liberation
Words Can Oppress
The Spirit Impress
Into an empty address
Some people mourn daily
Not realizing, In the blink of an eye
In the breath of inspiration
With purposeful exhalation
Permeation through flesh
In the depths of a word
Submerged Mourning Words
If altered and suffocated
Transformed into Morning Words
Daily Dose
I Don’t Wait, Now I Do
I waited for Spring
To turn into summer
For Summer to Fall
For Fall to Winter
I waited for Winter to Turn into Spring
The Cycle of Waiting
Waiting, Waiting, Waiting
Always Waiting for The Next
Near Perfect Conditions
Filled With Idle, Uncertain, Decisions
I Don’t Wait
Now, I Do
The Fallen Feather Builds a Home
The story of a feather
That once lived in a bird
Embedded in the skin
Detaching from its home
The wind blew
The feather flew
Rumored to be unworthy
Fallen off the feather’s home
People passing by
Without even a look
A bird flies, lands, picks up the feather
The feather becomes foundation
The feather builds a home
Your Words Vanished in History’s Truth
Your words
They sting like pros
Stabbing Swords
Legendary Forms
Parasite in my pores
Transformed myself toxic
Poisoned my own existence
Blinding fogs permeated vision
Coping skills
Self destruction, sabotage at will
Limitations
Transitioned to deflection
No expectation
Utter isolation
Peaceful meditation
Less intimidation
Healed incarnation
Abundant simulation
Your Words vanished
I replaced them with Truths
Judge a Book by It’s Content
Dandelions in the fields
Weeds that help to heal
Some pull and pluck and kill
The plant is a weed
Something too ill
Not knowing the speed
To cure, mend, and feed
Don’t judge a book by it’s cover
Judge a book by it’s content
Everything has a purpose and grace
Even in the most forsaken place
The weed thrives, cures, and blooms
History’s Baggage Turned Into Blessings
If your hands are full of hate
You can’t receive peace
If your heart is full of bitterness
You have no room for love
If your mind is full of fear
You can’t think of paths as clear
If you hang on to history’s baggage
You can’t fly into promised lands
Sometimes loosing is not a loss
If you are opening and making room
For what is yet to come
The Grind 