THE CONFESSION part III

Bless me father!

This is not confession on how my sins are filled up stirring redemption in her cup, I heard if you have a lot on your mind and find yourself here, you should talk perhaps the one they call God will by some way answer, So I’m just going to do same.

FATHER: Tell me what’s troubling you my child

 

A lot Padre! You see how the tune from a distorted piano controls the progression of irregular sounds?

You know how the bird in the air complains of too much wind that carry its frazzle wings away

I’m at the point now Padre, my soul now feels heavy     ‘pause’

 

FATHER: My child speak, free yourself from this burden, he will help carry it for you.

 

I know how the truth is just but a senile history

A journey of aches and conflicts

I’m indebted to life’s unfair seats

Cause it has placed me among the path with shadows and no shade

My lips burn from thirst of applause

My fingers itch for snaps of approval

I want judgment passed to be the day

Good in its sense

A calm wind against my sense

Of understanding.

I use to dwell in the lands of dicey pens and reticent nights

My quail was of legendary fluid

I was a phoenix of words, never counted second

I, the first watchman who made the best in time

I, first fabric in fig leaves

The brethren from cheers

My credibility was words over swords

I, speak and hurt the deaf.

Clouds of appraisal were not my assistance

I was too oxymoronic ‘deafening silence’

I could be the airy and lighted room of intellectual accolade

My lips were wreath

Of lust and affection

Of lost and perfection

I was a god and a goddess

Same as time

I was a secret covering to the valleys

Like skies above the clouds, your

Darkness were my judgment,

I wasn’t just a clock of attraction or

An aid to instrumental that pirated nods

An adaptation to the indifference in attitudes, I was

A seed from a poet’s tree

A self-art of poetry

I didn’t know wait had gait

Or fate had a gate

Change was a state my traits plait life served to me in a plates

Padre! I was all mighty

And close to the almighty ‘pauses’

 

FATHER: Are you not still this definition, my child?

 

I have sum up days when circles were firstly lines

Parallel to defeat

My stories don’t initiate immediate glory

Now I am an aged Eruca

I don’t metamorphose

I have lost my sunlight of growth

The photosynthesis is just but a retardation of my wealth,

I grow backwards

Leaf back words

And call it miseries

I miss series of nights

With no holy rosaries

The spinning curve of laughter

Wakes my drowsy works and exhaust understanding

While they’re under standing below tease and

Untrue breeze

Of shame, pain and residing craters of volcanic lie

I am now a failed piece

A mist taken to spread over

Beauty and nature’s fragrance,

I am curse of steep pedestal

Cruise to auto prime rhyme

Yes! I signed with her kind

A grail of conspicuous swell

Light to the wind and cross to fame

Muse has fallen like meteors on the sun

Rain of plain seat

This is a disturbing song in the ears of the crowd

Who wants the thief to skedaddle?

And curse into existence like a fade

Into death

Even when noise comes from my busy mirth

Let it be a reckless glitter of haze unseen

To the temper tempest thoughts

I want to beat drums

To talk in drums like talking drums

My wrath is a fear’s pose

I am but a flowery burst of mere mortal in need

Of just 6 letters wedded in a part of a word

Padre! Don’t absolve my sins

Lift off the pins

Tied to this draggy rings

Your son seeks wisdom

These are words from a poet who is cultivating his tree of poetry

Padre! I need more wisdom

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