A poets archive speaks in volumes.
I've got so many. Look at them grow.
Your a person who speaks in volumes.
And I'm afraid I have to go.

I'm a poet much less.
Or maybe not at all.
For this many words I'll be blessed
I'm a person much more.
Passion and heart.
Of this im sure only few will adore.

I preached the name
that I made vain.
I lived against
what I spoke for.
Now every choice
leaves a biased blame
that questions my core.

How can I live
to know I was fake?
How can I speak
when I know it's too late?
I tended my thoughts
with my own escape,
and looked as the light
darkened in my dismay.

I loose my grip
to the hope i created.
It's a lost feeling
when I know it was
anticipated.

So in this state of knowing
I'm just a failure,
I need to accept
I need a savior.
Just too many times
I became my own
traitor.

Lord please,

lead my choices
to purify my stains.
So I won't just live
to walk in vain.

Forgive me world,
for my selfishness.
Forgive me Lord,
please direct my
selflessness.

Holistic, not horrific
Humane, not vain
Humility, not artillery
Human, not religion

Pursuing your dream with no excuses
Aiming for the best while
Staying humble
Stay grounded to your roots and
If you are brought down, stand up and keep going
On and on and on and remember,
No one else will help you, but yourself

I am a humble painting
hung upon a common wall,
composed of grey tears;
striking, yellow laughter;
trampling fear; undisciplined love,
of other human beings.

With eager eyes
we spin the dice
Nebulous haze
Frantic gaze
Gates agape
Let's start the chase

Everybody's in for the craze
There's no time to waste
Flushed faces
Biting snares
Constrictor snakes
We rush in till we cascade

Not to realize
This is but a masquerade
Chasing our tails
In a daze
We stumble
Helter skelter

Life ask you to be in control of your pace
Stay calm, at ease, and humble
Do not listen to all the drunkard's tales
because no one's going to pay for your bail
Do what's right
until we reach the finish line
With dimes in our eyes
Prepared
for a deep slumber in our graves



-A Race To Our Graves, Margaret Austin Go