fringe selvedges

Kindness of faith
Is a faithless remind
Of a measure of moments
In the measuring of
Mind.

Tactically correct
Tacitly blind
Terribly gifted
Is a mind’s
Tempered sign.

One hundred ten
Voices of men
Speak with pure passion
In old ancient fashion
Of an echo
Of a hope
Heard again.

A friend
of my maker
is the maker
of my end.

A never ending
moment
where the end
becomes your friend.

Satisfaction constant
Satiation rare
Satironic factions
In a ceremonious affair.

Transformation angels
Repeatedly reformed
Calls microintervention
Unubiquitously forlorne.

I can guarantee
A soulless search
In my searching soul.

I cannot break
My softening heart
From a heartless toll.

I can’t not heal
My breaking anger
From its broken whole.

Lines of my history
Scratched deep in my face
Reflects the pain of remembrance
And the stain, of God’s grace.

Lines of your history
Etched deep from within
Detects the presence of pretense
In God’s pressure, to win.

Lines of our history
An arched angel within
Denies the posture of pressure
In God’s sojourn, of sin.

a depening fire
a santa ana flame
a delicate reaction
to wild and darkening shame.

Consummate lessons
Of painful detail
Begs for forgiveness
In the world of betrayal.

Countenance leanings
Of darkening tales
Makes wishing for forgiveness
A hollow right, of the frail.