On the Daughters of Men

Oh lord, help a young man in trouble for his life. His mind takes no reproof anymore, his eyes use to care for the ways of his upbringing. He is in danger of shifting sand. He sees the daughters of men, a multitude of them, here and there and everywhere he goes and knows for his eyes have not grown to the age of dim. They are young and ripe like a fruit, his once childhood mind no longer lives to restrain thoughts of lord have mercy.

Daily he grows weary of wait, of departing the gate of his wisdom and rationale thinking by leaving sound doctrine on the lawns of his vacancy. Is it not for thy ever spirit within, this lad of age would have left the gates of thy watchful care eating the fruit forbidden from Eden bidden by the daughter of men who ponder my ways and pressure for plays on days when I think not of your ways, they stray.

Like who is he, let us see, of what his qualities be, oh suddenly my mind is fumbling, emotions bublings trapped in surroundings on groundings far from church buildings. As they say, who is he, his qualities not seen in these parts, he wont touch taste or feel our products of mass appeal- is this for real. His eyes stare through the soul and his heart and hands touch not what is his. I speak to them, like look on the daughters of men, their beauty surpasses what eyes can behold, their charm excites all the young men in town;and their demand is more than can supply for their expectations exceed what can be paid.

Their heart is on their beauty, kiss fill you like food,their embrace takes you to heaven and their smile warms like the sunshine. their walk is the walk of independence so they dont appear defenceless, they talk the talk of maturity, their body is firm within their flesh and they adapt the fragrance of many mixtures of flowers. They can poison and win the affections of their heart easily and only a man of God can escape from the camp of their dwelling
only the strength of true love can deliver, only a wise heart can discern- and so the artist lives to writes.
Only a fool will be caught in their trap, in the talk of their walk, in the lies of their eyes. They'll bring a man to ruin less they change their ways










I think the rain is calling, I cry for it greater than drought, to watch the moth on the corners of my mouth. Of spring greater than fall. Of a mood greater than depression, of creativity better than selection. Of a love greater than death, of a brother other than Seth. Of the reasons for left over right. Of a gift for a curse. A poem more than a verse. to do the best not worse. Of courage instead of height, bravery instead of flight, wisdom instead of greed, will to quench a need.




(to be continued)