Black Labeled
Do i establish as king,
To be held as afar?
Do I write poems that I sing,
To keep locked up in my heart?
Or do I branch out,
Spread strong, my own wings
Stretch out of my comfort's
Box by Facing the unknown...
Bravely keeping my course
Full speed and head on!!
Moving forward quite swiftly
Into what's now the unknown.
Seeing discovery as new paths
To be first paved and trodden.
Of the stillness that's here
In all that has held longing
Waiting Patiently yet to be,
finally found and discovered.
The path, of aloneness,
Of healed therapy pain
by being made lowly and humbled.
So far this path that we speak
now freely of, has been
largely left alone, ignored
like a wasteland.
Appropriately it has been named
Black labelled and drawn
Its label like a crown of thornes
Like noone that comes forward
to claim this barren,
part of quiet desserted land.
With the simplest of set ups
Allowing for growth that may be unlimited, untarnished,
wild and free
But not considered worth it
That of the painful price listed
fewer still that feel it is worthy
of that highest of costs
which is the cost or price
Of risking your own embarrasment
Or worst yet as sowing a failure
Instead of earning a fruitful
Rich returning harvest.
This abandoned, or forgotten
set of potential rebirth
Is still on lifes journey map
as being poorly understood
Or not fully known,
it is called the uncharted
As few leave their patterned ways, to forge new footsteps to follow
They that give what's
yet to be mapped and engraved.
The mystery, the turning point
That uncharted of all places
brings most kings to have nothing
felt lessened more than strong, more rich with a weakness
a true Poverty of friendship
an unwanted loss
of respect and true integrity.
They're character coming
into legal question with a
keen sense of its loss
This doesnt come with not trying
To conquer, or expand
To rule with a fist of gold
Upon the mapped out land
Is this too much for most to risk
They felt the loss closer to lips telling and retelling their history down thru the ages, to concerned for their reputation's role...
But will you be different?
Will you be that one brave soul
Or are you just like those others?
The ones that came before you
In the worlds pattern of habit
These creatures of safety
Sick with longing in their own stolen, bankrupt homes...
Or will you cautiously be better
And bravely move on and up,
Will you stick out your neck
Surely but slowly on its own
Bravely being a standing king
Of your own chosen actions
By being the very first of a kind
To break free from generations
That came before it,
for decades on end
Of sinly lazy habits,
Chained down in prisons of fear
Growing rates of return
That equal less than zero
Moving forward in nowhere
In its decisive round of turns,
The turn, the change, the chance to be better, that stutters at first then with it brings the potential
for freedom and storytelling lore
Its own set of challenges,
its own type of blessings
And its produce of fruit,
sown seeds of those courageous watered down by regret or guilt
River currents of faith,
Turn into waves lapping
At fear's brokendown feet
That carry the weight
But not easily born, by those
Hearts of those feeling
Like they are just being forgotten or less than that even
not producing its own cost in price
And losing all its value
In its lost purpose for which
we all are given in the gift of life.
Are we felt charged with to find
Search for until in death
We give of ourselves to pay
This life what is owed?
Fear can spur greater faith
Acts of courage born brave weakness is all but forgotten
in acts of forgiving kindness
Patience and chances unearned
Unconditiinal love is only true
Seconds after its earned respect and its echoes are on
the finish lines for those that race
And take the road less traveled
Marked by furrows so deep
But that that persevere, keep
Strong, and face that historic leap.
Those few, those brave
Those perfectly made strong.
Opposites attracting only
because symboitically together they are felt to be stronger.
Stronger as 2 instead of as one,
if they stand alone the contrast
Seen is weaker but is ironically strengthened in their appearance as being coupled with a pair,
Complimenting them both ss seperate parts of an actionable item that is arguably vibrant,
in its definitions of what's pure whatever they are, standing there
Together but alone
Standing up for each other
By giving opposite approval
Back to back, neck to neck
Jealous to a fault,
the mirrored image
when not seen as seperate
but instead is only viewed
against the backdrop of
its flip sided revolt
As the opposite or balance
Weighted down by something else, alone they risk being missed,
Seen only as something pale
to be feared in its weirdness
Bland in its camoflageaue
But when seen as a reaction
A stance well to be held
Then it must be something worth
The mention, to be feared
not to be overlooked or shunned
Just because you don't
measure up the same or comform
and you are held as one mostly forgotten or misunderstood, ridiculed and rejected black
labeled as an outsider,
Then once labeled,
you must be lonely,
and star to despair,
Or maybe you are
something to be pitied
if you arent to be feared.
Being the different one most times
Chosing to swim against stream,
makes a very sharp chiasm
A space scarred inbetween
The difference between your life
And those that you are not
Can cause some to die young
with a taste of povertys prisons
All tied up in chains and knotted lined out in a story of stolen pens that are runnying dry on emptiness
In blank words and poetic rhymes.
Stories, songs, only to be silenced
By their own authors words
before dying alone on a blank page
In a book never published
Spelled incorrectly, chockful
Of poor grammar with no editor
Being asked to review proof
Leaveing all that's unsaid
To remain as unclear
Unclear as its song falling
Mute on deafened ears
Then that song of no melody
Hits notes that are sung
In a harmony ad naseaum,
Like a chant, or a witches spell
That's better left unsung
Forgotten, forbidden, foreboding
Written in blood, grief and sorrow
Penned in famous injustice
Too shameful for admission
To sanitys final appeal in court...
It was thought up, or created
By those dead day dreamers,
that are far to inexperienced, to be cast only as foolish simpletons,
impractical cases of king stupid
considered as reigning holders
Of any negative values
of essential based wisdom
or too far left off what's right
In the eye of the beholder
holding any image, or shred of evidence that a kernel of truth
Is worth more when laying next to
Its lying counterpart
that is losing its faltering battle
of lies with its slips of only
Half thought out shreds of unproven pseudo evidence
Culturally missappropriated
To exploit the jurors insecurity in its own lack of tolerance.
©gwencanfield
#syllable_wt
70 posts-
gwencanfield 126w
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