Rise of The Phoenix……………………By Jabbs

rise of the phoenix

Burning with rage from the condemnation of those who know not what they speak of,
I lash out,
Starting a vicious cycle of hurt and hate.
I lash out at those closest to me,
Pushing them away until they too condemn.
As the crystals beneath my feet shatter under the weight of my transgressions , I fall into deep despair.
A pit of vipers with venom so potent it melts the soul away.
I fall into darkness.
I fall until all the hate, despair, rage, hurt and condemnation become but a blur.
A shadow of a life once lived.
A life once loved.
And I hit the bottom. All that I once was, lost in the embers of rebirthing fire.
I emerge from the flames like the Phoenix.
Burning bright…

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Imperfect

imperfect

Beauty had no soul.
All she had were beautiful brown eyes and a pointy nose.
Beauty had no soul.
She was everything that my eyes loved and nothing my heart longed for.
Beauty had no soul.
She was many shades of physical perfection and that was all that caught my attention.
Beauty had no soul.
Full lips and swinging hips, but her heart was empty like a bottomless pit.
Beauty had no soul.
A river of long black hair did her head crown, oh my heart where was it that we were drowned?
Beauty had no soul.
Voice like the harmony of a thousand flutes, but her words held no depth.
Beauty had no soul.
Skin unblemished with a youthful glow, body adorned with trinkets of gold.
To the eyes a goddess, oh but beauty had no soul.

Flames

flames

I will burn in this fire.
This sweet fire, burning and scorching.
I will dance in these flames.
I will embrace this fiery touch.
I will revel in this touch, a thousand fingers burning down to my soul.
I will dance in these flames.
This sweet pain, I will be wanting forever.
This heat.
I will love this feeling every day.
Your fire, my ice.
Our scorch.
I will revel in this forever.
I will dance in this fire.
I will burn with these flames.

SOMETHING

something

There must be a name for what this is. This thing fluttering in my
stomach, this thing thumping in my heart.

There must be a word that describes what this is. This thing in my soul,
bubbling from within and giving me this glow.

There must be a way that I can say what this is. This thing that makes
me want to let go, this thing that makes me look forward to tomorrow.

There must be someone else out there somewhere who knows what
this is. This thing that is void filling. Now where to find this person?

Once, and for a long time I didn’t know about this thing. I hadn’t ever
felt it. This thing that puts my heart at ease. This thing that makes me feel peace.

I can’t imagine ever going back to living without this thing. What a drab
life that would be. What a colourless existence mine would be.

I have to find out what the name of this thing is. This great thing. Could
it be joy or maybe love? They both sound good but I don’t think it’s just those
two. Could it be hope? That would surely be in there too. Could it be faith? That
feels about right. But surely it is more than just one thing, this thing I feel. It
must be all of these things put together; love, joy, hope, faith. One day I might
find a word that best describes it, but until then I’ll just call it something.

WARDROBE

wardrobe
Thank you for changing your clothes with me.
Thank you for being such a fashionable fella; you always know the right things to wear.
You always look dapper.
Thank you for wearing the birthday suit three years before I wore mine.
Thank you for wearing those school boy shorts early.
Oh my, you were such a cutie!
Thank you for knowing when the big boy pants would be the best fit, and changing into them.
Thank you for being there when I changed my clothes too.
You knew me when I was in my birthday suit.
You teased me when I had to quit being bare chested and embrace the big girl undergarments.
Thank you for making sure it wasn’t more than a thing when I changed into the clothes of female teenage rebellion.
Thank you for changing into the suit of a man today and standing with me in my white dress.
Thank you for changing from the t-shirts of carefree boyhood to the responsibility laden shirts of manhood, and doing it willingly too.
Thank you for changing from the t-shirts of my boy to the shirts of my man.