Sunday, January 19, 2014

Stumble


Your misery's a symphony,
your thoughts a disaster.
It's a cattle prod grenade,
this sorrow serenade,
yet I trip as I swallow
and break through the marrow.
My soul's sometimes deep
and other times shallow.
Vexed and confused
as I float in refuse.
I'm lost and I'm reeling
from all that I'm feeling.

And I stumble - on - my - words
Yes I stumble - on - my - words
Sometimes mumble through the world
Or simply - stumble - on - my - words

A Schindler chin
that can hold all within.
Decisions and duties
that battle for the beauty
Of a victorious nod
that claims all as God,
getting lost and withdrawn
a selfish night without dawn.
I'm thinking and stealing
from memories revealing,
at times lost and confused,
or dazed and amused.

And I stumble - on - my - words
Yes I stumble - on - my - words

But I smile
get up
learn
grow
Dust myself
And move on.

Even if on occasion
I stumble on my words.

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