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Ears For The Tongue

The ears of the night life have swallowed me whole.
Speaking only that in the darkness of my Soul.
A spiders web luring to it all that can be captive,
to keep lips tasting their favorites to remain active.
A drawing of arts surroundings, gathered dust on the wall,
with a face in the picture attracting those it call.
The so many starving to dig through another’s trash,
keeping a stain forever darkened so the worst will last.
A band gets together with old instruments for old tunes,
some continue to satisfy and pacify unhealed hidden wounds
The damage in one life, can cause the weak in minds to spread,
like cancer can’t be rid of completely, it will resurface again.
Men are not God’s, too many will never be strong enough,
to allow the damaged in the world to consume, to burn all up.
Where everyone’s imperfections is replaced by new and improved.
Many don’t have the capability to forget imperfect things people do.
As we can gather old leaves, we forget as we watch them burn away,
we know the season when trees will have fresh new leaves some day.
If men walk as trees shouldn’t we all develop new and better ways?
Why can’t an old stain be cleansed away so it won’t be able to stay?
The tongue, that clever thing, is keeping it alive every day.

About Cosima

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