things that make poetry hard to read or listen to... so much death...

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From Facebook:




The Puddle
5/4/09 at 12:37pm
by John "Survivor" Blake



And when I stood still for the sun
I began to soften, felt cracks fill
with skin melting into itself, saw
the curb rising as I sunk, raised

my palms to see the lifelines
bend and blend to show me
how all lives have this shape,

So I lye on concrete, a puddle,
and the sun stroked my face
until the sky called my name
just before I poured over
into the gutter, short

of staying in the street.

I evaporated, rose
to see this world from
a God's view, what
I could never see
from the planes.

I don't think Heaven a place

Heaven
is the perspective given
to hearts willing to die

and live another life






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N M Nance at 12:52pm May 5

beautiful poem even though I don't agree with having to die to live another life. I believe in being constantly reborn in the skin your in and skipping all that dying nonsense.

but still a well written piece of art.



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