Hope

Beating Heart Part 2

Folder: 
Band Lyrics

Beating Heart Part 2

Verse 1:

I can feel your heartbeat

Whenever you are with me.

Little did I know

That this would be

My first and last love.

You’re everything I need and want.

 

Chorus:
Even if I fall in love

With somebody else,

You’re my everything.

No one else compares.

It just won’t work out

As much as we love each other.

‘Cause this beating heart

Is your’s to keep.

 

Verse 2:

I get tired of waiting.

We both met when

We were young.

It felt right.

Everything fell into place.

‘Cause this is our love story.

 

Bridge:
When I first met you,

I felt like I knew you.

It was so natural

For both of us

To be together.

Don’t let me go

‘Cause this beating heart

Belongs to only you.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Forgot who I wrote this for. Written a few months back.

A Baby Again

I want to be in your arms forever,
Resting my head on your lovely chest
I want to be a baby again
In your warm cuddle and embrace

Author's Notes/Comments: 

...to my love.

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Death of Infatuation

Folder: 
Light and Dark

I've never seen an angel bleed

Till I stood with knife in hand

I've never seen a devil cry

Till I looked once through it's eyes

 

You were my drug

Long before I acclimated

Long before withdrawal

I needed you to survive

 

I can feel your eyes on my back

Can't you hear me?

I'm silent on the outside

But screaming on the inside

I'm soul-lost

I can't find who I am anymore

 

Maybe I'll be fine

Perhaps I will survive

But I just don't know if

I can outlast your memory

 

If I lose myself in drugs and dreams

Or fly away to places and things

To fill the gap you left behind

Consuming body, soul, and mind

 

But there is no need

To conjure dreams

When life comes

In such radiant colors

 

They say Pandora is to blame

Her curiosity brought us pain

And fear of darkness in the night

But there was hope in candle-light

 

From the dark, a light will shine

Before the day, the night has gone

And now we know it burns so fine

That is why it's called, breaking dawn.

 

And maybe, just maybe

That which dies gives birth to something new

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Needs a better title

What If Faith is Not Enough

Folder: 
Oncology

When reality finally hits you it hurts
When the truth comes into focus it’s brutally painful.
Hope isn't always enough
It’s not always a happy ending.
What happens when faith is not enough?

 

I get hot flashes
My depression splashes
My soul is cold like stone,
the fear of being alone.

 

So now I lay me down to sleep
I pray you lord my soul to keep
Don’t let me die before I wake
I pray you lord my soul do not take.

 

I barely have a past
And may have no future
       Empty pages of a book
       A story left unwritten
       A life left unlived
       A hope left in the dust.
Please don't take me yet
Your mercy you won't regret
I am down on my knees
Begging you please
Don’t take me away.

 

At night I dream a misty graveyard
A tombstone the name I cannot see
A flashlight in the darkness
A figure so lifeless I cannot breathe.
Then I awake not as fearless as I may seem.

 

If this is my future
And if it comes to pass
And this breath be my last
Then this thought to you I cast.

 

What if faith is not enough?
Then life would be rather tough
With nothing to believe in
And nothing to justify
Nothing to keep you sane
Nothing to grasp when you fall
You will have nothing,
nothing at all.

Sometimes that is how I am
Falling in the darkness
With nothing to take hold
This feeling leaves me cold
hearted, soulless, empty.
All I feel is the pain of being unreal
No one knows how this life feels,
when you are so lifeless.

 

So now I lay me down to cry
I pray you lord you can't let me die.
Now I lay me down to sleep
Close my eyes without a peep
Never to be opened again.

 

Your body goes warm then cold like rain
Slowly your body numbs,
to your fingers and your thumbs.
As your body stops working, you feel the cold mist of death
And peacefully while you’re sleeping you take your final breath.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My grandmother, a retired nurse herself, was also another very special person; she always knew that I would overcome my illness. Every day she would take me to the chapel in the church and I would stare at the enormously realistic wood carved statue of Jesus. I would ask “even though you look like you are in more pain than me, can you ask your father to help me.”

 

Then my grandmother and I would go back to the room and say this prayer together;

 

And now I lay me down to sleep and I pray you lord my soul to keep, but if I shall die before I wake, I pray you Lord my soul to take.

 

http://www.murder-in-oncology.com

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Timber Merchant

 When I was a child

I remember you carrying me in your arms

the grey pseudo membrane covers my pharynx

making it difficult to breathe

Diphtheria was common in those days

You were turned away

from the footsteps of Holy family hospital

I saw despair

Flow down your cheeks

Where to now

You murmured

As I slipped into unconsciousness 

 

The haveli in Shimla

Amidst blue pines

You, your young family

My father, his brothers and sisters

Settled, content and happy

Forest was your business

Himalayan cedar, silver fir, white oak

Your touch turned them to gold

You took to the road in ‘47

Independence from British Raj and idolaters

carnage ensued

innocents, vulnerable

those who had no say, paid

The Punjabi sky above endured,

said no word but it poured

you spoke little about exodus of your own choice

and loss of everything

the hardship years, the eldest his fits of psychosis

chained, there was no PTSD in those days

people took things in their stride

his young siblings, their silent cries of pain

for the valley, the green trees

the wind that rustled between

the paths that led to nowhere

your hands never spoke of the stories

but you rebuilt the nest

and one by one they flew

some near

others to faraway lands

 

I want to know more about you grandpa

I am not small anymore but your legacy is so much bigger

One thing I am certain

giving up was never in our blood

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Today is my grandfathers 36th Death Anniversary, I usually pay a triibute in the form of a poem or a reflection. This year I thought of writing this one, a history of sorts, do leave your comments, thank you

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She beheld her Grace

 


Before his love,
she had been afraid
before his touch,
she had been ashamed

Mirrored in a gaze,
stormy blue
she beheld her Grace,
in clear view

He awoke in her a song
long repressed, so natural
then a dance, demanding rave
with beauty, raw and sensual 

He made her feel safe in love,
to yield to body and voice
he taught her it was always
something meant to be rejoiced



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I Don't Know How It Goes

What do I write about?

The story of my life!
I don't know how it goes, do you?
It's a matter of question to you and me to ponder on.
This side of eternity once given is true........or false in ones perception of it all.
Do you remember or is it I've forgotten in all this distraction freely given, to what ends I do not know.
Make believe is what it is I think. It's here in one moment and gone in the next.
How could it be anything other than
Games, we all play them, in hopes to gain some more of it.
Of, 'it'!, whats 'it'?
Life I said. Don't you remember?
or have you forgotten what it is, what it's all about.
I'll tell you what, lets make believe that I am you, and you are me.
Okay now, tell me about your life.
I don't know how it goes, I've forgotten you.
        
             Copyright 2018 by RW Erskine
Author's Notes/Comments: 

contact me at: artjwca@yahoo.ca

or

vist us at Ravenscraft Studios

https://ravenscraftstudios.weebly.com

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A Spiritual Valley

Sunday morning Gospel

At a southern Baptist church

Praising with the choir

Listening to the Word of God

 

Where grudges are forgiven

And friendships re-united

We sinners find forgiveness,

Family, and a home

 

But here I sit

Alone at home

I couldn't be roused

To my own Father's house

 

I can hear the church bells in the distance

Calling white-washed tombs to repentance

Calling broken souls to be renewed

Calling crushed hopes to stand firm

 

Yet, here I sit

Looking out the window alone

Listening to their tolling

Refusing to be more

Than an armchair theologian

 

If my “deeds” are just words

Then they are not worth talking of

If I didn't speak to my Father today

Then why do I expect answers

 

If we are “the Body”

Why are we so apathetic

So CONSUMED by our own lives

That our faith wastes away

 

And as these thoughts come to me

I make myself more comfortable

Still refusing to be any more

Then an armchair theologian.

In contrasts to your darkness and light is your will to live

Folder: 
Humanity

 

From the coals of sacred texts, brought fouth from ancient whispers of a circle of unbroken time, dipping and acendinding its change state, as the one constant in unending continuity. Therein lies a simple truth, corrupted with gentle persuasion. 

 

The state of being, the being of state and status of beings. 

There are three main laws for us to purview and avail here and now, or in past and future possibility. There is one rule that seperates, yet, reconsiles and is master of all truth; ugly or beautiful it renders life in death, death  into life and life into death. 

 

to live evil live to  - live.d.evil

to Evo L ovE to 

 

The cycle that never alters its identity making Its mood known in all forms and states; the All as in the We collective; and as the I; AGAPI, the known mystery of presiding over both and the first of the third.

 

Go.d  and evil.

 

Live with the hidden truth in plain sight. Felt  with intense realness,  hidden in semantics of languages  long lost and forgotten,  but none is needed to unless seeking to corrupt the incorruptible what is known and fails in explanation.

 

For  this very reason,  the logic of AGAPI (love) in all its moods, colours, ugliness and beauty fail to be described. And still, the poets' pride tries in vain to capture the whole.  Ever so often though, glimpses resonate and we can see a temporal portal with the promise of the indescribable known.

 

Blessingss

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For the few temporal and literal scholars here who might find something of interest here. Blessings and Hugss 

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