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Being unemployed gives you time to think. It is a rare opportunity to reflect on who you are, and who you plan to become. Financial difficulty is a life defining experience when faced with homelessness. I have a belief that everything happens for a reason. Having a chance to live outside of and observe a system we strive to be a part of, which will eventually destroy us gives life a new perspective. At times deep in thought I remind myself that the test of success is graded in your ability to face failure. As a young man aspiring to be a rapper I often wrote of my fear of failure, and my desire to succeed. It wasn't until age 30 on a windy October day that I embraced the idea; stagnation is like dying, all successes in life, love, and finance involve risk and accountability for your actions. The fear of failure is the same as the fear of success.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Fortress


Why build on a crumbling foundation
I am fracture holding hope ready to collapse
Past loves are crumbling columns
Folding in on themselves
As everything above becomes debris below




















My core is the blasted wall of a fortress
Love has been at siege for my very soul
Women become ammunition used to tear me down
My heart is an abandoned post

A wounded soldier is trapped inside
As death rains down
Covered in blood and dust
Wrapped in filthy rags to bind his wounds
Dying slowly

How could you want something of such little value
Love is a base my soldiers retreated from long ago
There was nothing left worth fighting for
Like gun-less bullets in the hands of pacifist

The gateway to my heart
Has long since been battered
Smashed into 1000 pieces
Now everything gets in

I have been scavenged
And anything of value inside me
That couldn't be devoured
Was broken into weapons
To rip me apart from within

My arms should be the walls that protect you
But I can only offer the safety
Of a bombed out building
You would be hiding in someone else’s wreckage
In a war zone not of your own choosing
You deserve better than what I can offer

My tongue is the place where tyrants executed compassion
There are relationships there
Hanging from the roof of my mouth still twitching
What kind of words can I give you
With fresh death waiting for my mouth to open

Landmine lips are cliffs suicide bombers dive from
How will you kiss me
You may set something off
I am afraid I will explode all over you
I see flame enveloping your face
Who will put out the fires

My tears have become soldiers
Marching backwards uphill
They die by the dozen I won't cry anymore
If they fall will you catch them
If they fall will you catch them
Can you catch them why would you catch them
They are ready to die
Knowing what they signed up for

There is crumbling nothing left here
How twisted must you be to gaze upon my ruin
What can be built from blood and rubble
Remnant and revolution
I have been invaded
Attacked bombed battered and bruised

I am nothing but stone pulverized into sand
My soul is gunpowder and demolition dust
What are you willing to build here
In a place that has know more death than life
More loss than love

 What kind of magic do your hands hold
Take mine and show me
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2 comments:

  1. AnonymousApril 16, 2012 at 3:53 PM

    Lest one has trouble gettting the picture
    you will with out the shadow of a doubt help em out and make it plain!
    At the end of the day after all the pain, hurts, disappointments and loses we still want love, want to be whole again as I quote you Chris ......"What kind of magic do your hands hold Take mine and show me"
    As always I love it and I am looking forward to continually delighting myself in your poetic genius. Carlene Gist

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  2. AnonymousApril 17, 2012 at 12:38 AM

    The metaphors here can be universally applied, depending on "what or "who" has endured so much discordance, descruction, and desolation. Will we as a people, city or town ever be whole again?
    Carlene Gist

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