in worn out
dogmatic truths
to others and our "self"
- we lie
but wouldn't it be
much better still,
to see with each
an every loving "eye"?

Ma Cherie© 2017

"Generally, people aren't good or pure hearted," he said.

And everytime I hear those words fall out of someone's mouth I can feel the sudden twitch in my heart strings.

The twinge of twisted up emotions residing in each solid beat in my chest,

Denying every ******* letter in that one sentence.

I can't, I won't,
I refuse to feel that way. . .

I don't know how to stop loving humanity.

Pieces in the mist,
The living waters:

The melancholic grace of
Sorrow,
The crow sings for the dead.

The nostalgic réminiscence,
Joyful frames in the afterglow.

All is a stillframe
In time's gallery.

Chaos in a wind,
A whimper in a death,
A poet stands in a crowd
And lulls the words to grasp
The emtptiness:

Let sleep the order,
Chaos in a passion's touch,
Feel the fiber of existence
And know that one is nothing
And everything to himself.

Chaos like the scream in agony
And torture of the dance
Under the forgotten night
When under the portico
You held back from destiny's
Melody and order killed
The unborn.

Quiet the noise of bitter
Memory, take in hand that
Chaos in a world of numbers
And lose count the minutes
That always seem fleeting,

And a poet overstressed,
Underwhelming as poetry
Became a job,
When time is put into words,
Take the first draft and run,
Let go The editor.

Take it,
Its still there,
And the order is a chaos too.