ready to rise

i.

i am a mountain ready to rise
pushing at the crust o'er my life
in a drive to move beyond the borders
of the fears, doubts and laws
bounding the spirit within

i want to grow

ii.

so, why mountain won't you rise
push your nose above the terrain
break the crust encasing your heart?

iii.

pull through liberated
with the might of your mind
shoveling back the words
locking  you down



The Hook of Habit

This IS what happens:
bonds are forgot
ones held tightly to.

Habit demands its place:
ALL...
and nothing less will do.

All else become shadows
placed beyond the line
where friendships held sway
was gate and cottage
for gathering words and flesh.

But now it's a wisp of reflection
a momentary guilt
a questioned thought
an Oh or Damn
an expletive spake in secret
a promise that tomorrow
will not be yesterday.

For habit is lover
demanding god-like worship
ever pulling curiosity
to the cauldron of desire
lie a greedy, lustful rake
'cause it is precisely this
that holds one at the heart.

Oh, to blow it away till needed!

Yet the need is daily fair
till the house is dressed for living
and the table set for lore
for friends too long neglected
lifting one above the pull
the pull to taste again
the food that smells of hell.