An unsettled bed is not where you belong, waiting in the fire for grace, for you are rightly made, it is summer and springtime your bed is self-made.

“An unsettled bed” (Grace)

On the corner of Conti and Decatur, she gives her own body, for something of a lure, to scar her pure arms with a track. To have strange tongues lick her and detract, all of those things she thought good. All of her spirit her soul is lost too, at least that’s all that she thinks. A compassionate G_D rises, she blinks.

Unsettled beds, make us hungry, make our hearts want something more, more, more, than we ever find. The mind, it comes it goes in pictures, the soul it settles to meditate on scriptures, but what, the spirit knows is whether it is life or already dead. White laced skin on covers, the lust of many, many others, and yet the game goes on and on, like children generation from dusk to dawn, and still we cry in surprise when it is not an elixir. Come lay your body upon a cold altar, you think it hot, but it belongs to another, and still this G_D he waits in sunlight, quiet, not loud, just patient might, and still we go we choose another, some animal, to comfort our aches, and ruptures. Have you not seen the golden calf, it looks like melting gold. Have you not seen your unsettled bed, why choose it, when, his highness wants you instead.

“An unsettled bed” (Grace)

He lies on a mat in the ADX, his passion broken by American tact, a small time dealer from the Brooklyn outback, he’s doing time in Florence, and the man breaks his back. All of his spirit his soul is lost too, at least that’s all that he thinks. A compassionate G_D rises, he blinks.

A psalm it comes in the shadows, mating it’s lyrics with our battles. Oh it sounds so sweet and pure, making our lives so neat the cure, but how we seek a better excitement. The craziness of unordered dread, the thought of blood upon an unsettled bed. Turn around, and turn once more, think yourself, once better once more, and still you go the way of another. Lost in self, and danger, it steers your rudder. And then it comes to you, when you awake, your lover animal, did forsake, your body, lying there, with the snake. It is an unsettled bed, a human depravity, that makes you sad, and still you must know there’s more. A light, that glistens your unsettled bed, and reaches within you, wants your soul instead, and you walk like the stars and the moon. Knowing such goodness your energy booms, for you are the rite of his noon. Awakened a better made soul of his bloom. An unsettled bed is not where you belong, waiting in the fire for grace, for where you are rightly made, it is summer and springtime your bed is self-made.

“An unsettled bed” (Grace)

They lie in cold prisms, and pickup bars, all American swingers, married with their scars, and when he cuts his arms, and she vomits in the room, the other swinging couple just laughs while they choom. All of their spirit is lost too, at least that’s all they think. A compassionate G_D rises, they blink.

An unsettled bed is not where you belong, waiting in the fire for grace, for where you are rightly made, it is summer and springtime your bed is self-made. – 08.28.2015 –
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