Violent Migraine
Intrusive aggressor
Fever of brain,
Sadistic oppressor.
Home invader,
Layer of waste
Vision violator
Body debased.
Fragmenting brow-beater,
And stomach sourer
Voracious Life-eater
Today devourer.
Leave me tomorrow.
Category Archives: Passion
Migraines
Fragrance of Summer
My children smell of grass
And garden hoses-
All knees and elbows,
And sunburnt noses.
So eager for the comfort
Of shade and clean clothes,
They curl up in my arms,
My gift of repose.
And I can’t wash this off,
Not with years of soap.
My children smell of grass,
And laughter, and hope.
Spilling Prayer
My God, my King,
I can’t sing a forgotten tune.
Come soon, show me the weak,
Speak purpose to my shallow frame,
Let me speak Your holy name to feed
The hungry, the needy, as Your breath fed
What was dead in me. You led me then, from
The valley of death. Don’t let me hoard the wealth
Of sweet salvation- let me run the duration with joy,
Spreading joy where there was sorrow. Give me tomorrow,
So I can render it to You again. Forgive my sin, and bless my faith.
A Spiritual
Water flowing from black seas,
Nightly flee, nightly flee,
From the wasteland to free,
Set me free.
Because I’ve worn these chains,
They’re the same, they’re the same,
Through the years that leave me, they remain,
They remain.
Skies crack open, clouds break,
Take it, take it,
And don’t look back, forsake this,
Save me and forsake this.
My highest dreams, my sole relief,
Drink the grief, drink the grief,
These waves that pull it underneath,
They roll it underneath.
Dark and beautiful rolling waves,
Find the brave, oh the brave,
Find the broken and enslaved,
Break the bonds of the enslaved,
So justice can sleep unguarded,
Unthreatened, Unhardened,
So children can dance in the garden,
No serpents in the garden,
Water of gray and grace, day seas,
Flow through me, flow through me,
Bring the blues and hues of free
Set me free,
Set man free.
Over-Amped
Electrical overload,
You sent an ill-timed jolt
Through cardiac nodes;
A well-intentioned assault.
The burn was scabbed,
And I thought mended,
But such tiny stabs
Have largely offended.
It’s murder still,
While life still beats,
To sear someone at will,
Even if you’re discreet,
Even if you’re not the first,
Or the last, or the worst.
Power Muddle
Power is not a crown,
Nor trophy, nor gavel,
But activity allowed,
Restraint unraveled.
Power is function,
Respect, and validity;
Lifted injunctions,
Softened rigidity.
And it’s not innate, but granted.
We give and take it every day;
Some installed, some supplanted,
Some caught halfway…
Some defray.
Memory Dipping
Silk water, black by the dim moon,
Tinkling between our eager fingers,
Like crystals singing in the wind,
Chiming giggles and splashes of youth.
Phosphorescence shimmered on contact,
Illuminating our gentle lapping,
Like stars descended, stealing in secret,
To swim in our innocence.
And all we were was always all;
All we are, all we will be.
Every breath stretching back to birth,
And on into eternity, and our breath
All mingled together.
Simplicity
We don’t talk about the waterfalls,
The jagged cliffs or canyons.
We are dusty road companions
Who wait out the squalls
On either side of the lane.
Perhaps too much the same,
Too different, to be conquerors.
We are friendly wanderers
And there is no shame
In quiet existence.
We waited out the resistance.
We learned the property lines,
Stayed in proper confines,
With dogged persistence,
And trust.
It took time to adjust.
Trading common intensity
At the cost of intimacy,
But we didn’t combust
And that’s good.
Farther than we could
Without one another.
In time, we’ll discover
All we withstood,
All we let thrall.
Cuttings Deep
I venture again
Into the forgotten wilderness.
I walk through my years
Every step, every leaf,
Every new breath
Pushes in what I can’t expunge.
I wish you’d given me a token,
A reason to hope.
I sneak through this jungle of ghosts
And I’ve become one too.
I miss you. Have you moved on
From sticks and stones?
I tried to hide away during early growth
Under your top leaves, unbeknownst,
But I knew, I always knew,
Your roots spread farther underneath.
I was passing through, but you would stand
A mighty oak.
Here, in strange and familiar trees,
Green-filtered golden beams
Illuminate the lost, the found.
I thank my God.
I mourn my past.
I think to you.
A piece of you, how could I know?
When planted secret, planted deep,
Even broken offshoots regrow
In the right soil, in the right keep.
I thought I took a piece of you, but
Maybe I left a piece of me.
Striated clay half emerges;
Earth’s fractured rib cage.
Roots, like talons, exhume the sepulcher.
Streams dredge where they converge.
Nature airs her secrets on the finest stage.
I wish I’d told the truth.
Mulligan Lane
Funny, you never end up,
Where you expect to begin.
What you loved at the goodbye
You awake loving again.
I have lived sequential lives,
Overwhelmed a steady mind
With words of no consequence,
Words too true and too unkind.
Blooms passed through my fingertips;
I refused to grasp their stems.
Now I’ve crushed tender petals,
Both clasp and cast become sin.
Born from the coffin, my eyes
Are still blinking at new light.
Fresh beginnings are not fresh,
But they can bring fresh insight.
I can’t see that far just yet.
My friends are foreign lands,
The song repeats, the new hello,
The call to bloom where planted.
A good day with sun baked skin,
Laughter, merriment, the past
Lies dead in The Graveyard-
The ultimate outcast.
Still, I hear a distant tune,
Sounds of surf, and midnight communion.
I have no concept of home
Outside of that reunion.
viewingcamelot 