I love the Complexities in life

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.

A vessel.

And we are the lesson.
In My Tree,

Owl

Wet Wings

Wet wings are drying

Someone should learn this scene

Ready hearts

Steady chatter

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

Left Bound

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,

Owl

Poetry by Keota Picou