Oh morning sneaking in
With bright eyes, an open throat
If you knew the night wherein I’ve been
You would see no need to gloat.
Hush, hush, triumphant sun!
Lower your blinding voice.
Can you not afford we sleeping ones
An alternative in choice?
Monthly Archives: August 2013
Snooze
Armageddon
When silence falls like creeping fog
Along the surface of the earth, the space
Reserved for mankind’s expeditions,
Aged traditions bow their face.
Reverence smolders like thick incense
And the keepers of the wicks
Know what to trim, when to ignite,
And how to burn away semantics.
These are all the nights we get.
There will be no time to elaborate
On all we wouldn’t see or know;
All these words will evaporate.
When silence rolls in as a plague,
And all goodbyes are stifled shy
And all our victories fall to ruin
And all our wisdoms run dry
Our tiny band of atmosphere
Will yield the eldest and their youth
To the thunderous sound of Divinity;
We will hear the voice of Truth.
Terrorvangelism
You told me things I couldn’t hear,
Couldn’t condemn, couldn’t agree,
Preying on the secret fears
All mankind exhibits openly
And it took years to shake you off,
But it was worth each tick of time,
I deflect you with the mocking scoff-
A weak rebuttal to your crime.
If I am forced to listen unhardened,
To hear you speak into my ear,
Like poison in the sleeping garden
When jealous greed sneaked ever near
Forgive me if I make it plain
You aren’t the first Judas I have known,
Nor Judaiser, but your gain
Is toxic with the seeds you’ve sown,
And after seizing all you’re viewing,
The possession will be your undoing.
Ebb Tide
We dug our toes into the clay
Formed along the banks
The walls of our castle at play,
We watched as clods sank
But we ever stayed.
The tides came in, came in,
And we rejoiced to see them rise,
But they always left us again,
And it came as no surprise
We tarried on the banks when
The final sunrise condemned us.
Love Enough
Do I have love enough to feed
Hungry stomachs, hungry souls,
Or love enough to seek
The lost, to pay their toll,
My wealth for their needs
Do I love enough to protect
The little ones upon my knees
Or give my enemy the same respect
I expect him to show consistently
In my my offbeat, off-kilter being
Is there love enough to supersede
The grand gestures so fleeting
And inhabit the relational reality
Of elbows sharpening elbows
Like water shaping the rocky steeps,
Or love enough to let it go
To let what is just be,
Without dousing my salt and light,
Or falling fast asleep
Is there love enough in me?
The Spirit answers,
And all that is repeats
The open heaven and broken earth
And all the fins and wings and feet
Couldn’t interrupt His devotion
He pours himself out, rich and free
And in the downpour
There is love enough for me.
Doing Good
Selfish, and my love for you
Bounces off the containing wall
And stumbles to the floor again.
I’m familiar with this fall
But I wanted to stand tall
For you.
Maudlin, and my best intentions
Are just romanticized notions,
Heartfelt inventions of my
Over-stimulated emotions
Equipped with devotion,
But nothing useful.
Reparable
And how, if you weren’t there,
Could you profess to understand?
Being familiar with a continent
Doesn’t make you a citizen of the land.
You cannot see your own tomorrow,
Yet lament the doom of another’s
Because you don’t have the faith to see
The caterpillar gets smothered,
Digested, and seemingly dies,
Before being resurrected in beauty-
Nothing gets so terrible
So far beyond its duty
And incapable of function
It cannot be made well again.
Nothing gets so bad
That good cannot break in.
So don’t weep for those whom you are not,
And declare the good has gone and died.
The ferryman doesn’t wait for your alms
To pass from side to side.
Every crippling blow today
Can one day fall in stride.
Your Sin Will Wash Ashore
The sleepless moon is rousing me
And pulling me to ebb and flow
Pale rays cut through to drag the deep
But silt yields nothing worth the know
Still every churning of the storm
And every passing of the tide
Combs through the bowels of the abyss
To clean and purge its black insides
And by the moon the angry waves
Keep threatening to wash ashore
The hollow, lost, eroded bones
Buried, banished to the sea floor.
All watery graves overflow,
And all their secrets, in time, spill.
Every wave hits its breaking point
Against the sand, against its will,
Pushed along by the wide-eyed moon
Who does the deed and takes his rest
So that the sun may shine upon
The tangled strandline confession.
Add Media
Narcissus would love this age
And its high-resolution photography
He would plaster his Facebook page
With his beautiful face for all to see.
And he would allow followers
But never accept friends,
Though the pool is ever shallow,
He would stare until the end
At his albums of his images
And post his every vanity
Always staring, but never seeing
The essence of his insanity.
Longhand
Spit out something new,
Something you have spewed
In the same old terms.
The linguistic squirm
Fidgets from thought to thought
Nothing is as fresh as it ought
But each day is a new footstep forward
We all move away, we all move toward
We’re all becoming what we rehearse
For better or for worse.
viewingcamelot 