home"Phoenix Risen: Groundless"
Been off so long
that I quit asking why.
I just fly.
I just place arms,
wrists and fingertips
above closed lips
and shrugged shoulders.
As I've grown older,
I've learned to observe my beholder.
I was a young boaster
that knew toaster and holster
but lacked tact as bolster.
I've seen how those
who elect to move slower
are assumed bolder
as if we're colder:
calling us soldier
but not inclined to fall in line.
I had to carry loads
like concrete folders
before I could become a floater.
Beholder told me
that only floaters can behold her.
I wanted so badly to hold her;
but moist eyes and butterflies
meant nothing to the incomplete
concrete that anchored my thighs.
Thighs so lovely
that lie before my eyes.
How dare I cry
when her sultry silhouette
imparts a warmth
that gently hugs me? .
Can thugs see?
These cement folders grew colder;
so I asked my beholder
to alleviate my shoulders
so that I could claim my prize.
He was not surprised.
He told me
"You can view all things
but still have yet to open your eyes."
After I heard him speak,
I looked down at my feet.
Ankles bound to shackles
linked to lead shoes.
Shoes that used to bruise
those who faithfully
peruse truth like world news.
Self inflicted ruse.
Acceptance of my lies
yet I gnaw away at chains
as if they were twist ties.
She closes her eyes.
She just turns away.
I usually hear "Goodbye,"
but she had nothing to say.
Can't recall the day.
Who knew I'd forget?
What else is there now?
Maybe I should quit.
That's when everything seemed to fit.
Young he wanted to forfeit.
Older me wasn't having it.
Replaced charm and wit
with wisdom and grit.
Ankles shattered shackles.
Found the strength to handle
what was placed upon my mantle:
shoulder strength in exponential lengths.
Acceptance and the will to appreciate
eventually led my beholder to alleviate
a weight as great as
these folders void of sense.
I began to see that
what I saw was loose contingency
based on what I wished to see:
Things I'd never be
born of a mind too blind to see.
Increments in age have imparted levity.
Never felt so free.
I've no wish to be.
My desire is a glowing fire
that burns for deeper yearns.
Things I used to spurn
that I've finally earned,
manifest concerns
have been altered, overturned
and churned into something richer.
Light would only flicker.
Couldn't see the bigger picture
until I left the ground
with no intent to look down.
Cement minds will drown.
A conscious plagued
by concrete crowns
and pavement parody
is the harshest form of hilarity
and undeserving of charity.
This is my clarity.
I am groundless.
Boundless.
Bound less to this ground
that offers at best
flimsy money schemes
and unsavory teams.
The sky offers dreams.
Dreams as real as blinding rays
when the sun gleams.
You see,
these old feet no longer cover streets
in hopes of feeling complete.
No longer placed under the impression
of bland blacktop brands and imperfections.
Replaced inflection with jovial expression.
New sessions.
No questions about protection.
No fearful inquiry dwells in this he:
the me that looks up earnestly
to he who created me.
Salvage sympathy.
I am boundless.
Groundless.
Ground less to what I wanted to believe.
One who perceives ways to deceive
will always underachieve.
In all honesty,
I honestly don't need hope.
Hope floats but faith flies.
Faith lasts but hope dies.
One is complete.
The other obsolete.
Never again will this world embrace my feet.
Air so fair,
sights so sweet
that every deep breath
imparts graceful retreat.
Feathers blow like sheets .
as I navigate the sky.
I meditate and levitate.
My magistrate sits up high.
Hearts sing in honor of blazing wings.
World wonders so very scenic
pale in comparison to Phoenix.
Day and night lend
wondrous ambience to my flight.
This is my chosen sight:
Wrapped within the skies
high above my earthly ties;
twisting embers in the winter
warm all under the beholder's eyes.
Don't ask why.
In time, you will understand.
Make light the load in your hands.
You deserve to be complete.
Break the shackles at your feet.
Lost in youth yet always blessed.
Complacent minds coaxed and caressed
will grow to recognize their stress.
The obsessed will soon profess:
Confess to being bound at best.
All lost among the found,
torn away from peace and rest
will remove folders from their vests…
And the beholder that observed me:
the he tired of being self obsessed
and transgressed will see
all of thee in unity.
You will be counted among the groundless.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
Been off so long
that I quit asking why.
I just fly.
I just place arms,
wrists and fingertips
above closed lips
and shrugged shoulders.
As I've grown older,
I've learned to observe my beholder.
I was a young boaster
that knew toaster and holster
but lacked tact as bolster.
I've seen how those
who elect to move slower
are assumed bolder
as if we're colder:
calling us soldier
but not inclined to fall in line.
I had to carry loads
like concrete folders
before I could become a floater.
Beholder told me
that only floaters can behold her.
I wanted so badly to hold her;
but moist eyes and butterflies
meant nothing to the incomplete
concrete that anchored my thighs.
Thighs so lovely
that lie before my eyes.
How dare I cry
when her sultry silhouette
imparts a warmth
that gently hugs me? .
Can thugs see?
These cement folders grew colder;
so I asked my beholder
to alleviate my shoulders
so that I could claim my prize.
He was not surprised.
He told me
"You can view all things
but still have yet to open your eyes."
After I heard him speak,
I looked down at my feet.
Ankles bound to shackles
linked to lead shoes.
Shoes that used to bruise
those who faithfully
peruse truth like world news.
Self inflicted ruse.
Acceptance of my lies
yet I gnaw away at chains
as if they were twist ties.
She closes her eyes.
She just turns away.
I usually hear "Goodbye,"
but she had nothing to say.
Can't recall the day.
Who knew I'd forget?
What else is there now?
Maybe I should quit.
That's when everything seemed to fit.
Young he wanted to forfeit.
Older me wasn't having it.
Replaced charm and wit
with wisdom and grit.
Ankles shattered shackles.
Found the strength to handle
what was placed upon my mantle:
shoulder strength in exponential lengths.
Acceptance and the will to appreciate
eventually led my beholder to alleviate
a weight as great as
these folders void of sense.
I began to see that
what I saw was loose contingency
based on what I wished to see:
Things I'd never be
born of a mind too blind to see.
Increments in age have imparted levity.
Never felt so free.
I've no wish to be.
My desire is a glowing fire
that burns for deeper yearns.
Things I used to spurn
that I've finally earned,
manifest concerns
have been altered, overturned
and churned into something richer.
Light would only flicker.
Couldn't see the bigger picture
until I left the ground
with no intent to look down.
Cement minds will drown.
A conscious plagued
by concrete crowns
and pavement parody
is the harshest form of hilarity
and undeserving of charity.
This is my clarity.
I am groundless.
Boundless.
Bound less to this ground
that offers at best
flimsy money schemes
and unsavory teams.
The sky offers dreams.
Dreams as real as blinding rays
when the sun gleams.
You see,
these old feet no longer cover streets
in hopes of feeling complete.
No longer placed under the impression
of bland blacktop brands and imperfections.
Replaced inflection with jovial expression.
New sessions.
No questions about protection.
No fearful inquiry dwells in this he:
the me that looks up earnestly
to he who created me.
Salvage sympathy.
I am boundless.
Groundless.
Ground less to what I wanted to believe.
One who perceives ways to deceive
will always underachieve.
In all honesty,
I honestly don't need hope.
Hope floats but faith flies.
Faith lasts but hope dies.
One is complete.
The other obsolete.
Never again will this world embrace my feet.
Air so fair,
sights so sweet
that every deep breath
imparts graceful retreat.
Feathers blow like sheets .
as I navigate the sky.
I meditate and levitate.
My magistrate sits up high.
Hearts sing in honor of blazing wings.
World wonders so very scenic
pale in comparison to Phoenix.
Day and night lend
wondrous ambience to my flight.
This is my chosen sight:
Wrapped within the skies
high above my earthly ties;
twisting embers in the winter
warm all under the beholder's eyes.
Don't ask why.
In time, you will understand.
Make light the load in your hands.
You deserve to be complete.
Break the shackles at your feet.
Lost in youth yet always blessed.
Complacent minds coaxed and caressed
will grow to recognize their stress.
The obsessed will soon profess:
Confess to being bound at best.
All lost among the found,
torn away from peace and rest
will remove folders from their vests…
And the beholder that observed me:
the he tired of being self obsessed
and transgressed will see
all of thee in unity.
You will be counted among the groundless.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
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