James Sadwick

Art of pain between the inked poetry
With crimson tears of silent blood letters
Canvases of hearts in broken rhythms
Bruised flesh had penned my fetters

Art of pain between my silent soul
A sharp brush touches the tender place
Elegant are the strokes that carve me
In flames refined my upward turned face

Art of pain as deep as my ocean of love
Waves of confusion above a mighty peace
May the churning waters be silenced now
To step back and admire the masterpiece

Set sails! Set sails!
The carried cargo is your heart
Set sails! Set sails!
Prepare as you depart.

Set sails to your serenity
Against the angered view of self
Wild are the woeful waves 
That bash the balanced bow

Set sails to your serenity
Despite the depth of your fear
Anointed is your applied anchor
That scars the secret seas

I'm at the edge of known and unknown
The shade of contrast of dark seas
One has familiar mental maps
The other uncharted mysteries

Courage to cross the rippling line
I'm battling between the two seas
Going forward may lead to great gain
Or the grim winter of dead leaves

God, hold my tension between these
The promised past and future seas
Hear my cry for guidance, please
As I step into these new mysteries

Who is to withstand the cage of sorrow
What dark night of the soul can stand?

I write emotions and linguistic songs
Longing for my wounded soul to satisfy
Ashes of the white scorched embers
Glowing with hope or anger I do not know

I weather the storm of internal conflict
Hidden hurricanes beneath the smile
Strength held between violent screams
The power of such demons chained I see

What could be expressed to souls
None can hear or sooth the acid seeping
Tormented by rage or drowned by weeping
This darkest hole, this ravaged craving

Born to be virtuous in charted evil
Clawed in darkness pained in solitude
What hideous aching through the night
Comes knocking at my mind

Virtue dies with strife of life
Tired of pushing for what is right
I beg God for a place of satisfaction
Yet, the more I chase
The more I see destruction

A song of perseverance
We're riding the days
Like surfs on the waves

A pulse of tension and rest
Of these white-tipped crests

A rising crescendo
With falling ocean lows
Creates the art of patience