There is peace in my heart and fire in my core. I am protected. I am a protector.
In My Tree,
On The Tree
Your fingers glide across my skin. Like wind touching a magnolia leaf. Your pace settles my beat. The flames of yin and yang find their dance within me.
By Keota Picou
But at times I wish the answers were easy.
Where are my answers that I’ve worked so hard for?
How much further must I walk to the results?
My salvation is not for them.
My salvation is not for the group.
Tearing myself up for the masses to digest.
That is what I do.
I am not a Savior.
I am a being.
And we are the lesson.
In My Tree,
Wet wings are drying
Someone should learn this scene
Listen as the cicada sings
The wind refuse to blow
While the laughter quietly leaves
Eaten by the eyes of the people
Peeling away a spirit at the seams
Break apart as it breaks the box
Not one of these souls hold to dreams
They instead claw at hope
Resting their woes inside of Keys
Poem: Keota Picou
Gamed out with My luck found
My karma is won
Didn’t I say this game is done
This game is done
My Power is found
I took the position to run
I tipped the crown
In this corner I’m left bound
Red flags and untruths drown
Keeping float of waves with familiar sounds
I killed the tie
And life moves on
In my tree,
Poetry by Keota Picou