Featured photo taken at Maya Bay Beach, Ko Phi Phi Le, Thailand

Monday, July 25, 2022

Through writings of beast, his word is sustained.

Humbled as he stumbled,

He stayed the fuck off bumble,

Because his inner world crumbled.

His money got right and then his word grew ripe.

…awe, there are real monsters, who separate you from blessings.

When those close to you experience joy, recon that GOD is next door,

Perusing through his manifesto for your home address, so…

Jealousy can be that monster, shutting off porch lights.

.

.

.

From nights he was curled on his concrete floor, crying,

“Lord, Lord,” guess who ignored?

From the mornings he awakened, asking,

“Why, why?” Guess what he explored?

From the evenings he prayed, for not one but never a day,

There stood a body to implore.

Still standing at the gates of a—

“Fuck you,” he walked away,

And light as a feather…

Untethered, fair weathered, to see his true kiss.

From there, lie enough stones from deprivation to build his throne.

He’s not tired of being alone, but fed up with drones.

His duty, however, to protect the unknown,

Through first-light, give a moon a rose.

But only those of his father’s garden,

For they shared a struggle,

As they forever grew,

Pardoned,

But now,

Hardened.

-Budd

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