PLease feel free to give me feedback on these...come on I can take it!
All poems are copywrited***

Ignorance......

Subtle tumbles of speech,
tripping blindly over thoughts.

Blowing knowingly around the mouth,
falls pale with death between the lines.

Tiny aches, building, pushing,
hidden ques towards the obvious.

Resistance holds imprisoned truths,
within a gnashing cage of teeth.

Longings not sated,
morph to giants kicking at the head.

Frail are the emotions.
Stunted are the conversations.

Freedoms bliss to know no light,
only now is love the knowing.

M.A Wade
D/C TS
2004


yet another..............

Broken

I am broken, but just a little bit.

Taken aback, finding no resolution in the amount of pain that can fit between breaths without choking one to unconsciousness entirely.

I grasp, flailing for sanity in tiny mediocre clasps. Just enough to keep me pushing forward I think…'…'.then slip off to unreason.

My gate stammers, as my steps weaken and I stumble more each day; reaching my hands out in front of me, as my sight narrows and then falls off all together.

I long to lay my bruised and tired body down upon the cold-ungiving floor, and rest for just a time; but my fear of heights holds me yet again, a prisoner against the wall.

Now only fleeting moments of the long ago rationales are my nourishment, as they linger on my bones like tangled meat; tenacious yet unfulfilling.

I am broken, but just a little bit. More or less now, either measure satisfies this lament.

The flavour of love once held, feels lavish on my tongue, but it too with time will fade and I will find my mouth fallowed with the taste of bitterness.

I am stuck in amazement of how much wretchedness can fit between my breaths, and how I manage to speak in chaotic tones with little regard for the sanctity of revival.

Struck down by life; there in I find no precious avatar in which to hide my scars and waste. It is what it is…'..loss and grief are backwards gifts.

Mending a tattered soul feels and unparalleled task when my hands tremble as they do. So trapped by an exhausted mind that healing seems a bizarre and foreign tongue.

I am broken…'…'..of course…'…'…'.but just a little bit.

M.A Wade
4-19-05
D/C M.L


and another.......

Corrupted

I am heavy against the earth, pulled down by the fierce gravity of the cloud that encircles my head, like a hazed crown.

The soul pulled tight to be examined, seems translucent when held against the light of the sun. All the lacerations that divide hope from despair are visible to the tactile eye.

“These are my war metals!” I scream. My tattered uniform a reminder of my days spent in the trenches.

Head held up by grace alone, veers down in a suicidal mission towards the floor.
No strings to pull the head aloft, so as to admire the day fought so hard to win.

I could let my banters spill, and afford all the waters; but without meaning they flatten and loose tone.

Feelings suspended overhead, like a marionette so slumbering in its hallow motions. I would tear my flesh from bone to cause such a pain to be released, but it saturates me to the core, and is not so easily tossed aside.

Resolve must be strengthened now to cross the widening divide, to pull my two halves together again and rekindle the spark of the soul.

M.A Wade
6-6-2005
D/C MS

So I thought I would start off with just a few.....I am looking forward to reading other peoples work as well......BTW, not all my work is so negative...I am in a good mood everyonce in awhile.

Kat