Smell

A rotten sickly smell
What it is I can not tell
It sickens me to the soul
To smell this foul bowl
What is it I wonder
That has been torn asunder
Then under current hits me
Anger, murder greed, heavily
Lace that foul smell
It is us that I smell
Rotting in this man made hell
Always wanting more
Never satisfied even after we settle the score
The heart we have lost
Can we afford the cost
Can we go back to what was
Or live life just because
Can we cure our ills
Can we pay the pipers bills
Can we afford what we’ve become
Running amok destroying everything under the sun
Can we go back to the way
It used to be on some far off day
Will we be here still
Or to survive will us the planet kill
These things I know not
For it is in a past we have forgot

Rough Hewn Wood
By J E DeSpain

Rough hewn wood, splinters in his back
Stumbling steps of a man beaten
Runs of blood down a stripped back
He falls sprawling to the ground
Blood splattering on the crowd
A man steps forward with a shove
Crucify cried aloud
Steps forward again, rough hewn wood
Up the skull they head
Hammers ring as the spikes are driven
King of Jews the sign read
Darkness fell ominous and thick
A heavy crowd ringed the hill
He spoke unto the crowds
A thousand angels felt a chill
As a spear plunged into his side
Water wine and blood poured through
Soaking the rough hewn wood
As they killed the messiah, a Jew
Laid to rest in a borrowed tomb
Wrapped in a cloth of white
He descended into the pit of hell
A man lost to the light
A battle was fought, and won
A trio of days had passed
And the stone rolled away
And an angel appeared in a flash
And the body was gone
For he hath risen from the dead
To be back with his father
At his bride’s head
Because of rough hewn wood

You are welcome, and Thank you for the welcome

Thank you, its an older piece but one I felt like sharing

The Harlequin
By Jeremy E DeSpain


A soft transparent painted mask
I slip upon my face
And through its eyes I see
This world a strangely new place

This world I see around me
A world that whirls around me
A strange place it is
But none the less it belongs to me

This world is a creation
Of my mind, soul and heart
From deep inside me
Is the place it starts

Beneath this mask
Am I the man I was
Or does this mask
Erase what was?

Is through this mask
A new me created
While the old me
Sits and waits un-satiated

How deep does this mask run
How far into me
Deep enough that
It affects everything I see

There is a knife in my hand
From where has this come?
It is coated with a thin veil of blood
What oh what have I done?

The me behind the mask
Screams cries and wails
A piteous wretched display
As against the mask it assails

The mask sneers and chides
The old into silence
Trust me he says
For I am our only source of reliance
The old me inside
Does away retreat
And the mask does gloat
For now its control is complete

A smile spreads across the face
Upon looking at the knife
A sneer follows the look
A total disregard has he for life

The inner self is all
But lost to the world
Seen only now and again in a fitful glance
From the place where it has itself hurled.

My Eyes are mine alone, and look at many things, but if I am looking into your eyes, and I can see the real you, I am afraid of what you see when you look back into mine.

Easiest Advice I can give on this subject.

Do not think of it as getting back into the game or groove, that puts too much pressure on yourself not to make any mistakes. Instead see it as a new chance to make new friends and explore new roads. The mistakes you make are part of who you are, never forget them, or you will repeat them. First step, is to go out and be among people, take your friends, they are your armor and your shield, they will buffer you as you get your feet wet again, and who knows they may even know someone you might like.