Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Bright second-story strobe-lit morning movement breaks in welcome pain.
Tight horizontal moon-cast worked-man sleeper aches in welcome pain.

Fresh Eden’s lovely gardener attends, land breaks and channels rain.
Successor metal factory: no boss partakes in welcome pain.

Debris in mountain ranges’ strength, decay there rakes for life again.
On frosted twig in frozen wind, old leaf there shakes in welcome pain.

I walked and picked each footstep up for goodness’ sakes my life retained.
I mourned my life in loss at deathbeds’ sides in wakes of welcome pain.

That holy trust that it is good as made forsakes all guilty strain.
“Increase my faith,” cries guilt who masturbates in lakes of welcome pain.

There will be some that say the repetition of the word pain in the rhyme scheme flaws the poem but having used this technique myself it compounds the message of the poem and drives home the pain of the author. Yeah, your muse whistles its own tune and I like that. iblieve

perfection of cycles, of that which is flawed.

interesting read, joel.