Friday, December 15, 2017

#Rage

all my
incense
smells like
anger

a burning car
a burning cross

mantras
muddle
on my
tongue

peace, a language
lost

5 comments:

Sherry Marr said...

"All my incense smells like anger." That line really speaks to me. Mine smells like the Himalayas, and monks......smiles. There are times when peace is a language lost. Thankfully, it can be regained. So nice to see you posting, Kelli.

Lora said...

I love this:

"mantras
muddle
on my
tongue"

This makes me think of childbirth. All those mantras fly out the window, replaced by curses, when you're in pain.

cricket said...

it seems we've crossed a threshold, and civility, civics, civil, now lays in our past.

and yes, the language lost, feels like rage

Marion said...

Sounds like my life, only sprinkle in shattered heart & life plus sadness deeper than a black hole. Misery loves company, but we're all alone in this fuckwad insanity. xo

Trådløs said...

It's sad when peace gets lost for whatever reason. A peaceful word can be so soothing and mighty
Wishing you a peaceful start into the New Year!