INTRODUCTION TO 2nd Edition
Winter Kill 1st edition was a work that was graced with beautiful art by Simon Huelsbeck, and Mark Orluck in the first edition. The work was beautiful, matching the work of semi autobiography with both the dark moody painting of Simon, and the hopeful wildlife work of Mark. And it was a work that sold almost nothing through Amazon. In person it sold more, but that is a trend that I have found to be true in general. But the lack of sales came more from the price due to color images inside than anything else. I had foolishly believed that a work that was good would sell, regardless of the price. I was convinced that Simon’s amazing images would stun the audience into shelling out the bucks. But they didn’t.
One, this is an epic poem about my life, about the cycles of existence, hope, fear, sorrow and renewal. My works are perceived as dark, so, some people might have placed a dark stain upon expectations by readers. Two, I made a number of errors prior to sending in the manuscript, and due to my mother’s hospice ending terminally, I was in no place to fix it, until now.
I am an enormous fan of the work of Simon Huelsbeck and his work. And, I loved the work that Mark Orluck did to offer a balance to the darkness that Simon and I seemed to share. So this version of the work is simply to correct my own errors and to use images from public domain so that the cost can be low. I want an audience to read and view this, because if a man has a trophy wife but never takes her out in public, what was his shallow point? Having a wonderful work that nobody reads is a bleeding wound. I hope to have my words for this work in print, because it was a chapter, and now my second work, Spring Eternal offers an answer for the Kill of Winter.
December 31, 1962
On a New Year’s eve a coupling occurred
Against her will, she was broken
He battered her, crushed her
He held her down, his seed was planted
She said no
But her voice wasn’t heard
Her cries unspoken, her hopes gone
The egg and seed met
Conception against nature
The fetus grew
And the mother grew undone
Fat with child, sick with sorrow
Reminded daily of the act
That bruised her, of the scars he gave
She carried the burden
Of the life she never wanted to give
Birthed of a baby boy, he lived
She gave the baby away never knowing his name
Never wanting to know for he was a souvenir
Of a terrible night of blood and shame
I Remember A Heartbeat
Every night I listen for it
I hear it in the silence
The very quiet
Of my heart
Every day I see it
I see it in the distance
Of my eyes
I remember her heart beat
It kept me alive
It kept me inside
Her safe place
I never wanted to leave
Never wanted the time
To run out
And face a world
Alone
Full of doubts
She bore my sins
She wore a cloak of skin
That was threadbare and worn
Saline Burn
I was ten years too early
For the Saline solution
To all her problems
I exist
Because I was born too early
Before the definitions changed
Of what I was
I wasn’t a baby
I wasn’t a life
I wasn’t wanted
But still I came
I don’t believe in destiny
I don’t believe in fate
I believe in the legacy
The one my father gave to me
When he raped my mother
He gave me life
When he broke her will
I was saved
Only by a definition
Of what I was
Even though I was not
Birth
I left the warmth
Of my eternal hiveI left the warmth
Wet from birth
Cast into the light
Of this world
Born from the flesh
But woven by spirit
I seek to know
All the secrets of living
This life offers
Many different choices
My new mind hears
So many different voices
I have only to see
I have only to hear
To know that life is hard
If good, and if good
I need to see it
I need to hear it
From outside
And within
For I am alone
Left upon the gurney
Mother left me
For others to raise
Take into the new home
With different ideas
Different choices
Different beliefs
Different ways
To redeem
My existence
Bright Awareness
Since the springtime
When my flesh was new
I’ve been awake
Since my birth
Never sleeping
Never dreaming
Only existing
While others see anger
In my face
I am crying
When other see my wounds
It is proof
That I have resisted and lived
I see red skies
Where others see blue
I huddle in fear
While others live and die
Under the illusions
Of progress
I beg the skies to open
And rain down
Red rains
The final decay
Every day
Of my existence
I’ve been waiting
For the day
When I can cease
Holding back the pain
And let my being sleep
In the arms
Of the one
Who knew me first
This world is a cage
A prison of flesh
Like an animal upon a leash
We can only feel, see, hope
For more than this
The release
From my incarceration
My captivity
My curse
“Ride ten thousand days and nights, Till age snow white hairs on thee.” John Donne
“For the unlearned, old age is winter; for the learned it is the season of the harvest.” The Talmud
“Does wisdom perhaps appear on the earth as a raven which is inspired by the smell of carrion?” Friedrich Nietzsche
Spring
There is no questioning them
They refuse to obey
If even they notice you
The ravens dance upon the surface
Of the newly visible ground
Warming in the spring sun
They announce their intentions
To watch the day unfold
To judge the events worthy
Or not
Of their time
The days spin into the horizon
Formerly gray
But now blue
With the warming of the days
The ravens have to compete with other beasts
For the dominion
Of the land beneath the trees
The land still moist from the melt
Revealing beneath those who died
And slept over winter
Without dreams
The flesh falling from the bone
The revelations of the melted snow
Showing screams of the old world
Born to the new but the naiveté of youth
Allows them to ignore the horrors
Of the coming fate
Beneath the warming sun
And there we are
Walking in the lands that used to be covered
But not now, they are greening
Fields that were desolate
Now rise plants
The planting season nears
The days warm
The hunger abatesThe forage is easier
In the open fields
The days grow longer
And the sun is warmer
Every reason to be alive exists
Here before us
The moment is here
We are reminded
That life is good
That sorrows pass
That youth is beautiful
If reckless
And we are embraced
Blessed by the fact of our creation
By the fact of our existence
By the lives we forge
In the silence
Of our survival
The days move along
Without narrative voice
Without a plot or theme
We are left to create
Our own story
And in spring
The evidence is in
We are ready
“Behold, my friends, the spring is come; the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun, and we shall soon see the results of their love!” Sitting Bull
“Break open a cherry tree and there are no flowers, but the spring
breeze brings forth myriad blossoms.” Ikkyu Sojun
“I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.” Robert Browning
“How much do you know?” she said. “Do you know that dreams are illusion?” “Of course I do,” I said. “Every one knows that.”
“Oh no they don’t,” she said, “the mad don’t know it.”
“That is true,” I said.
“And do you know,” she said, “that Life is illusion?” Edward Plunkett, 18th Baron of Dunsany
Youth
A child still but looking back
I was never youngMy flesh was born
And spirit was beckoned
My life was thus delayed
Until the work was begun
That would bring me to a place
Where I could grow
Instead of just exist
Where I could know
All the lessons before me
All the stories within
Who I was meant to become
I was alone
And yet
I grew when offered the chance
I learned when the time was right
Looking back
I know it was hard
But it was good
And yet
It is not yet finished
In me
“To become young again would seem to me an appalling prospect. Youth is a
kind of delirium, which can be cured, if it is ever cured at all, by
years of painful treatment.” Logan Pearsall Smith
“All of us who are worth anything, spend our manhood in unlearning the follies, or expiating the mistakes of our youth” Percy Bysshe Shelley
Blush of the blossom
In Spring there is a rush
From gathering of sunlight
To the growing
Each moment is cherished
A gift
The blossoms fall quickly
Renewing the land with the petals
Going through the cycle
A shift from beauty to purpose
Within days
The earth is a system
We are a portion
We grow, mature, age
And wither and die
But the rhythm goes on
The purpose is fulfilled
Our flesh is redeemed
Even if the blossom lasts
For moments of time
Our gifts are in display
And some thrive
But redeemed or not
We will pass
Our bones will nurture the earth
As we should be our birth
We exist
We stop
Blessed
Cursed
“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” Marcel Proust
“Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.” D.H. Lawrence
Maturation
A baby giggles in sleep
A child screams with wild joy
Better to spend that
Than to let it fade
Lost amidst the worries
Ripe amongst the pain
Of adulthood
Growth into an adult
Unchecked by wisdom
Only the force of biology
Sets it upon its path
But once there
Our flesh settles
Reaches a place
Seemingly matured
All the lessons gathered
Serve to judge it
Worthy or unworthy
Beliefs and experiences
Joy and sorrow
Redeem the struggle
Exalt the victories
Remembering the cost
Feeling invulnerable
Surrendering to whims
Glorying in youth
While looking forward
To fineries
Luxury
Pleasures
That seem to beckon
Of course they don’t
But it requires wisdom to know
“Life has always seemed to me like a plant that lives on its rhizome. Its true life is invisible, hidden in the rhizome. The part that appears above ground lasts only a single summer. Then it withers away — an ephemeral apparition. When we think of the unending growth and decay of life and civilizations, we cannot escape the impression of absolute nullity. Yet I have never lost a sense of something that lives and endures underneath the eternal flux. What we see is the blossom, which passes. The rhizome remains.” Carl Jung
Being
I exist and I resist
I cease to be washed awayIn the grieving of my pain
I cease to be washed
Of my supposed sins
By the pouring rain of your clouds
Redemption is not offered
By others in authority
When you do not accept the blame
I am not over proud
I am simply being
I reject the demands
For conformity
I was born into what I am
I refuse to accept the shame
For what I am, who I am
For what I have to say
For your priorities
I stare across the ocean
I stand beside the sea
And because I refuse to move, I remain
I Cut Myself
Having given into despair
I cut myself from inside elbow
To the narrow of the wrist
And watched as the blood
Refused to spill
Not a drop of crimson
Not speck upon the floor
And I realized I was dreaming
But not sleeping nor was I awake
This fragile body was a nexus
For all my energies
And all my damages
That still remained
The pain of birth, the sorrow of life
The grieving of loss, all refused to move
Was I born unto unlife
Was I impervious to death
Was my skin cold
Would I draw new breath
Clockwork and Patchwork
Mortality, it is proof
I am constructed of fleshBy the maker of clocks
Everything perfectly formed
Precision dimensions, accurate measures
Wrapped around my soul
In a magnificent cloak of sin
It is a flawed image
And it degrades as I age
It is fragile
Patch worked
Constructed of flashes of material
From different lives I’ve worn
The truth is loved or hated
My being is not newAdored or wounded
I am limited and construed
To being less than I am able
To being unable to be alive
Without enormous cost and
Dues that I can never pay
When The Ravens Called
Like an opera complete with song
Like an orchestra draped in blackThey watched me
From the wires and branches
I’ve walked upon the earth
For more years than I would have believed
I don’t have any answers
I didn’t know there was hope
I didn’t know there was more to see
I heard my call when I saw the ravens
They spoke to me in my heart
They had seen my soul and counseled me
To be more than I could conceive
They are eaters of carrion
They are ancient of days
But they watch as we fall
I heard them through it all
But rather than mock me as I fell
I heard them tell me to be more than I am
They showed me the way
Barbed Wire Headband
My life is a flagellation
If all I am is the sum totalOf my flaws
I am nothing
I exist in some form
Of intoxication
I wear my sins daily
For they made me who I am
I am subject to despair
I have no great cause
I simply exist
For the pain
I wear a sack cloth of mourning
For children that never died
I wear a crown of thorns
For the style and fashion statement
My flaws are my lies
Told ever moment
Who I am is a mask
What I am is in askance
Heat and Exhaustion
Time does not seem to exist
No, not in summer
It is a series of days
Linked by heat
That lead to passion
And exhaustion
We long for it
Remembering our youth
In old age
As a time when we were free
When we could wile away a day
In the shade of an oak
While the world went about itself
Circling around us
But never invading our senses
With sound, and turmoil ignored
But youth is not endless
And summer does indeed end
Time exists outside of our awareness
And the world affects us
Regardless of our blessed ignorance
Summer is a time of joy for the young
But memories of it fade
With the exhaustion
Of existence
And the heat of the sun
Wearing us down
Inexorably time goes on
And eventually time
Will makes us undone
“Very hot and still the air was, Very smooth the gliding river, Motionless the sleeping shadows.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
“Then came the jolly sommer, being dight In a thin silken cassock, coloured greene, That was unlyned all, to be more light.” Edmund Spenser
Adulthood
I fell out of my comfort area
Landing upon my headCast into adulthood
Without a clue
As to how one acts I was not taught
I was commanded I was not raised
I was made to listen
The life I had grown to know
Was not by acquiescence
But rather
By the demands of others
By the risks that tempted
By the fears that swirled
By the hopes that drowned
I was not able to be
But no one else was to blame
I was not ready
To be a man
So I fumbled about
“It takes a long time to bring excellence to maturity.” Titus Livy
“A person’s maturity consists in having found again the seriousness one had as a child, at play” Friedrich Nietzsche
“Age’ is the acceptance of a term of years. But maturity is the glory of years.” Martha Graham
Early Autumn
Still planting our legacy
But our harvest is unequal
Some fail without experiencing victory
We walk through the landscape
Reminded of our folly
Thinking our lives immune
To the passions that have consumed others
Dooming ourselves to lives of failure
By refusing to endanger our safety
Refusing to risk our hopes
In exchange for nothing but security
Autumn strikes before we are ready
Summer is ended and youth is dead
Our days of hope are over
Now are the days of sorrow
When death of others haunt us
Where the cold winds from the north pervade
With a shiver we are aware
That our moments in the sun are fewer
And our future is rapidly becoming
The harvest of things within our grasp
Instead of the deliverance of what we had dreamed
All our plans have not come to fruition but rather
We are moved by moments of hope
When we are able to believe
To live instead of survive
Our lives apparitions of our youth
Our days fading in glory
When once were moved to thrive
“I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring
shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.” Robert Browning
“Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree” Emily Bronte
“Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower” Albert Camus
Gray
Yes the skies are gray
Despite the leaves’ paint
Exploding
As if the approaching cold
Will burn the colors to ashWaiting for the freeze
While glorying the last spray
Colors defy the gray
The gray
The land goes on without objection
The transformation is its way
Youth and elders clash
A dynamic energy for society
I am watching from the outside
As if I am uninvolved
My soul is a tapestry
But I’ve worn this cloak of flesh
Knowing it won’t last
Every moment here on earth
Unraveling it
My flesh is temporary
The time limit of the flesh
Is a die that has been cast
My cloak of flesh is fading
My desire to thrive is gone
Age has stolen my fire
I’ve only pain
We’ve gone far too long
Without hope
And I am not immune
Some semblance of life
Escapes oblivion
I need to renew
Hope is fleeting
But I must thrive
“The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of
a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They
had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment
than futile and hopeless labor.” Albert Camus
“Youth is the period in which a man can be hopeless. The end of every episode is the end of the world. But the power of hoping through everything, the knowledge that the soul survives its adventures, that great inspiration comes to the middle-aged.” Gilbert K. Chesterton
“And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least
once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by
at least one laugh.” Friedrich Nietzsche
Dust
I long to drink
From the chalice of life
My questions are unending
Eternal matter or eternal God
Are we dust and spark
Clay and mold?
Or an accident of catastrophic luck
I don’t know
I do know I was made needing to be loved
With hands waiting for another to hold
I am broken but still seem whole
I am alive and that is proof
That there is more than I can understand
For I have drunk from the cup
Filled with sorrow
And I keep coming back
I have drunk from the wine glass of love
But I have yet to be filled up
So pour life into the chalice
So that I may drink
Just this once
False Messenger
Words promising fulfillment
The fruits of my corruption so sweet
Condemnation of others
The taste of victory
If only I would give in
Let my body flow with desire
Then the decay would begin
The fetid odor would mark my fall
Rather I be burned in abject fire
Better I be broken and disused
Than to let my being be abused
And thrown away to rot
Cast out and devoured
Destroyed or consumed
Paralyzed without thought
Frozen in my ignorance
Left to linger in doubt
Throw off my chains of indecision
Let me be swallowed and spat
From only the Eternal’s mouth
Cognitive Dissonance
I fell in disgrace
Before the audience
Watching me fail
Watching my fall
My soul cried out
No one heard my call
The cancers of my existence
Crushing me
The answers of my life
Mocking me
I am one without a path
I walk alone
But still I am last
For all has fled before me
Life is full of wrath
Redeem me of this place
Before I fall
In its embrace
Kissing sweetly my lips
More than teasing with just a taste
I Am Frozen
By your Touch
Neither a corpse, nor ghost
Nonetheless I linger
In the periphery of your sight
You wish me dead
You long have begged
But I cannot leave your mind
You loved me you said
You adored me you said
But you didn’t
Time after time I tried
I baptized my feet
With tears from crying
But your ways were so unknowable
I was unable to change
So my heart kept beating
But my soul kept dying
And you went away
Leaving me behind
So that you could go on
With your life
The Harvest
Kommt jetzt die Ernte
The harvest is taken
Before the ground freezes
Autumn reaps the seeds
Grown through summer
Maintenant la moisson vient
Awaited bounty
From the earth
Planted with hope
Love and blood
The plow broke the ground
The plants broke the curse
The baptized land
Gives new birth
Plowshares had cut the earth
With their blade
Now the harvest is come
The reaped grains
The gathered fruit
The gifts come
The greater harvest
With filled arms
The safety of the tribe Grows
The harvest that is meager Harms
And the tribe suffers
The hunger
The fear
The need
Eating then seed grain
Stealing from the future
Before the snows
Let the harvest begin
Let us look within
For faith to endure
For the wisdom to grow
“It is not always granted to the sower to live to see the harvest. All work that is worth anything is done in faith.” Albert Schweitzer
“Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today; And give us not to think so far away As the uncertain harvest; keep us here All simply in the springing of the year.” Robert Frost
“In an active life is sown the seed of wisdom; but he who reflects not, never reaps; has no harvest from it, but carries the burden of age without the wages of experience; nor knows himself old, but from his infirmities, the parish register, and the contempt of mankind. And age, if it has not esteem, has nothing.” Edward Young
Gratitude
The world is beautiful
No matter how difficult existence is
We beg for survival
We receive sustenance
We beg for more than this
Of the essence
Of hope
Preparation
The season will change
The air will grow more cold
The ground will freeze
The skies will pour down snow
But for now we prepare
Our desires set aside
While we prepare for the onslaught
For we know
With storms come
The harvest is ended
The snows fly about
The death of this world
Cannot lead to doubtOr we will not endure
The trials
The cold
The freeze
The death of all
For this season
Without reason
The cycle endures
Abandon the shell
Of humanity
We will fall into oblivion
Of the fall of the living
The cycle of falling
“When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the morning light, for your life and strength. Give thanks for your food, and the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies with yourself.” Tecumseh Shawnee Chief
“We ought to give thanks for all fortune: it is is good, because it is good, if bad, because it works in us patience, humility and the contempt of this world and the hope of our eternal country” C.S. Lewis
“Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all the others.” Marcus Tullius Cicero
“What fire could ever equal the sunshine of a winter’s day?” Henry David Thoreau
“O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors: The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark, Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs, Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.” William Blake
Aged
How was I to know
What life would offer
What consequences my choices had
What dreams would be realized
What fears would come true
Love was good, Love was bad
Life is a cycle
Well beyond my ability to control it
It is endless and continues
And I wait for a time
When my children
Will be beyond the constraints
Of the world outside
Of a time
When my own failings
Will be forgotten
And my few gifts
Remembered
“For the unlearned, old age is winter; for the learned it is the season of the harvest.” The Talmud
“There is no worse sickness for the soul, O you who are proud, than this pretense of perfection. The heart and eyes must bleed a lot before self-complacency falls away.” Rumi
Sorrow’s Path
Without hope there is nothing
Without love I am broken
Without dreams
I shuffle
I fall
I stumble
From one existence to the next
With nothing to show
I suffer
Judged as having failed
Hated for my flaws
Without hope I cannot endure
Without love
I have no cause
So I endure
With hope
Until I find someone
For sorrow’s path is endless
Unless I am able to find love
Hope inside
This body of cell
Alert to the danger
Of the war being waged
Intoxicant awaits
Beyond reality
There is only hope
The only measure against fear
Against desolation
We are amidst the wasteland
With only our own company
Starvation of emotions
Deprivations
Isolations
We walk alone
This land so bereft
Beyond the flesh
Skin, blood and bones
There is only hope
Only hope
This is the Hive
Sitting in the high tower
Emperors watch their bees
Drones working endless hours
Making things no one needs
We labor beyond exhaustion
That wealth might seed
Our dreams are emptied
Our hopes are bare
Our needs are not met
Our days are shared
Laboring for others
Until we fade
And wall our lives off
Into an abscess
And we rage until
Drones work endless hours
Making making making
Hear the drones
Humm in activity
For the ones in power
Forever working
Making nothing
Degradation
Flesh flayed
Rancid corpses
Remains thrown upon the fields
To be fed to the wolves
Of our decay
Contamination generation
The toxic lies of damnation
Fall before the altar
Mammon lives
The messenger precedes
Calling for our obedience
We follow
The result is devastation
Our beings left hollow
Toxic gene pool
The world awaits
Its due are endless pain
Screams and nightmares
Rather than sleep and dreams
We follow
First
First snow is a reminder
Both beautiful and dangerous
Cold and yet worth living
Forgiving the cold
For the beauty
Forgiving the danger
For the awe
We can only sleep
Dream
Until there is only warmth
Beauty
Eternity
The clouds are full
Gray
About to breakLeaving a permanent change
Destroying the known way
The harvest is done
Now is the requiem
For the earth
“Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons’ difference, as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say,
“This is no flattery.”” William Shakespeare
The Storm
Under wicked skies
A busy and crowded city street,
Crossing in front of traffic, ignoring each other
At the center of the street is a dead body, laid out,
Ignored, the closest people come to noticing
Is when they stumble walking over it
Soon a blanket of snow covers
Do not wake me for I am dreaming
My world is endless
I am sleeping
Unaware of your wounds, or of the world outside,
Ignore my pain, as I do yours,
Let us all commit, societicide
A pyre is lit, fully ablaze with a child’s body above
Sent to a different place by burning the corpse.
A large crowd is watching, the fire is roaring, torches are used
Throw in a few people tossing them
Along with those burning stray books
(or if you wish throwing in more children)
Let there be no misunderstanding
We’ve set our world ablaze
We are the children of the final generation
We will waste and wait until the end of days
The Hunger
A great and large piece of machinery, unto itself a beginning and end,
It is a sprocket wheel and conveyor belt shining metal beast
Raw material is fed into it at the top, and all the way down
To the bottom of the page is consistent motion, and progress,
Coming to the bottom where the conveyor belt pours out finished product
Where humans with sledge hammers
Shatter the products, we built and destroy... mindlessly, endlessly...
Winds of change? Our labor, so much toil
We poison the soils pur world pays the toll
We’ve sold our very souls
Endless is our creation
Endless is our destruction
Endless the alienation
Endless the suffering , the degradation
Thieves, liars, deceivers, and fakes
Punished again by society
Which devours all rogue actions
Spies, murderers and betrayers and saints
All fallen before the throne
Society gathers and it destroys
Is merciless and seeks conformity
How many innocents are lost to the demands
The storm approaches and clouds roil
Tribe
Our Tribe hates difference
But it also hates the same
We steal all graces given
The cost is endlessly regurgitative
None who disobey are forgiven
And the rebels are punished by death
Swimmers in unsafe waters
Learn to survive or drown
Salt water burning and boils
Losing some swimmers
Amongst the others
We weed them out with suction and hose
Drivers driving, people walking, zombielike,
Moving en masse to their offices,
To a city filled with skyscrapers
People staring at their computers
Bleary and red glazed eyes
At their work station in industry
Similarly exhausted
A worker at home, day’s work done,
The worker attempts sleep
Yet cannot and instead stares upwards
At the ceiling fan above the bed
We are the flesh that moves
We have become the chosen few
We exist simply to function
Our days are endless
Sleep is precious
And we are addicted
To the drugs that soothe
Living dead
The red skies came
I was not ready
Now I walk forever
The path is unknown
The walk is continuous
There will be no reward
I will not reach the throne
For the dead have been redeemed
And the living have gone
Twilight
This is twilight
Done is this day
The Valkyr have flown
To restore the ranks
Warriors of Valhalla
Now skyward
But I alone as I watch
Upon this earth
I am cursed to walk endlessly
And I’ve no hope
To find the way
Off
The Cost of Eternity
In order to love
Without guile
To be love
Without measuring
The cost to the heart
Of the indignities
Of being open
My heart is opened
I bleed
I pass the time
Without thought
For the cost is grievous
To be without love
Is death
Far more grave
Than any pain
To feel is to live
To be numb
Is to die
So, let me scream
Eternity’s Garden
There I am
Where it is divine
Taken in total
With the grapes
Of the celestial’s wine
In the Eternal’s garden
I fall into love’s embrace
The tastes so alive
The aromas are so powerful
I sing her praises
I extol
I become undone
And love is awakened
And life is begun
Anew
Upon the breast of my lover
I am calmed and sedate
The beauty is surreal
But the moment
Is divine
I am awakened inside
December 31, 1998
I was selfish
Empty
Spoiled
Angry
All I wanted
All I ever needed
I had
Then a small being
Showed me
Who I was
And what I needed to be
Before that I could understand
Who I was
Before I became
What that being demanded
Then I became what I believed
I became who I was meant to be
I was no longer empty
I was now a dad
Machina
We are a patient in heavy restraints
A huge machination over our head
Attached hoses and wires
Hands with IV needles inserted
Multiple times punctured
Contorting and insane
Humans are metal
We are constructs
Machines made to function
We long for purpose
Yet we fear the hell
That we inevitably live
Create the exhaustion
This mind is dulled to the pains
Yet the body is coursing with sensations
The payment of course is for the sins of a nation
Our intent is to become insane
Drugs to numb
Sleep withheld
Our world must function
Let us quiet our brain!
Rain pouring down, puddles forming,
Rain drops hit puddles, feet walking
Droplets hit walker in face, grabs face and contorts in pain
Eyes are glazed still but you can see skin decaying
Polluted beyond measure
Our purple clouded skies reply
Pouring down acid upon the weary who wither
Their bodies dissolve and the flesh dies
Pouring down, pouring down, pouring down upon this world
We wade in the waters that we’ve poisoned
And drown in ankle deep streams
We achieve nothing but disorder and destruction
Linger in decay and dreams
Endless endless are the agonies that we cannot delay
Monotony Failure Time
We become slaves without hopes to cling, nothing
Monotony Failure Time
Endless agony, endless drudge we walk this world alone
Monotony Failure Time
The world we create consumes what lives, devours our hopeMonotony Failure Time
To live is to die, to die is to live, all you can hope is to escape alive
Winter Kill Finale
Why is it that we so briefly, quietly live
While the world around us screams
What is our purpose
What is the point of this
We dream of perfection
While the world just wants hope
Why do we do it, why do we look away
We ignore the world, we refuse to hear their cries
While their pain bursts at their seams
We ignore for others things that
Which if done to us
Would cause us to rise?
We are endless in our irony
The machinations of culture that lead us to our graves
Engage our minds with promises for the weak and tired
But never the brave
Who are they to offer comfort and peace
Always at the expense of others
Who will soon be worn down, will soon be deceased
These machinations of culture We lie to ourselves
We desire to be rich
We wish to have power
But these machinations of culture
Devour us, and still
Beckon us by the hour
Left to the fate that this society impatiently dictates
We are moved to going to endless wars
We alleviate our own misery by engaging in retaliations and cynicisms
Our horror at the simple necessity to kill remains, and so does the scars.
Where we fall doesn’t matter nor who dies, only patriotism,
Victory and endless schisms
End and Renewal
Happy children playing, in a courtyard filled with bullets, syringes, porno mags, knife blades...
Children playing while never knowing that the world does not care
But advancing age and knowledge steal that hope, and dreams become nightmares
This world turns, ever spinning, around, with less and less green, and more and more brown, we insult the sky with pollution, even smoke from the burning and disappearing Amazon jungle and rain forest, when the final catastrophic result occurs, we will know, we’ve absolutely earned it.
Modernity is what we’ve striven to acquire, but in the end, it doesn’t matter at all, no matter how modern, we are still primal
How many must perish to satisfy the hunger, the hunger deep inside
How many must die, as a sacrifice, for us to be free from societicide
This world is in peril, this world has long been asunder and if we do nothing...
The children will pay with their innocence and wonder
A single plant breaks through the melting snow
Renewing life
The endless cycle
Winter is ended
And spring begun
Oblivion’s call is mesmerizing
Despite the silence
We perceive time passing
Dust settles through
Soon we begin asking
Why do we die
Why do we suffer
Like footsteps over to the horizon
They soon disappear
And we too are soon gone
But that doesn’t mean without evidence
That we have never lived
Our life is a mosaic
Experiences cut into pieces
In the end all is shattered glass
But that doesn’t mean
It wasn’t beautiful
Life is difficult
It can be an enormous morass
A bog so slippery
We cannot perceive solidity
Seconds pass quickly
The heart beats
And never again the same
Seconds pass
Endlessly pass
We let each pass
And like a waterfall
Watching them go by
Never again to see them
We remember little of the chaff
Of the thick dust rising
We remember glory
And the horrors
Each of those memories
Fade in lucidity
Eventually
We often fear by time
Feel drown by it
When it is done with us
Washed ashore
Taken by the tides
Should we arrive on that beach
Bloated, purple and dead
We still would have lived
Memories and scars are proof of this life
We sleep never knowing if we will wake
We begin journeys with only the hope
That in our absence
Death won’t take our friends
The truth is that eternity is long
Endless beautiful
Still, time ends
It might be absolute
It feels real
But it has never been endless
We have the truth of eternity
It stands in opposition to human falsehood
We exist and then turn to dust
And awaken
In spirit arisen
Having finally escaped
From the flesh bound prison
"Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus.
But meanwhile time flies; it flies never to be regained.
Omnia fert aetas, animum quoque.
Time bears away all things, even our minds." Virgil
“We see that in the organic world, to the same degree that reflection gets darker and weaker, grace grows ever more radiant and dominant. But just as two lines intersect on one side of a point, and after passing through infinity, suddenly come together again on the other side; or the image in a concave mirror suddenly reappears before us after drawing away into the infinite distance, so too, does grace return once perception, as it were, has traversed the infinite--such that it simultaneously appears the purest in human bodily structures that are either devoid of consciousness or which possess an infinite consciousness, such as in the jointed manikin or the god.” Heinrich von Kleist
_________________________________________________________________________________
SPRING ETERNAL: NO MORE DESPAIR
After a depression that lasted in pieces or whole, more than decades, I decided to stop fighting it with the means I had been fighting previously. Drugs and counseling have helped, but, I reached a place where I could not get out of suicidal ideation despite being on massive doses of anti depressants, and great hours of reflection with others. Going off my meds, so to speak, was a risk, and I had to consider the many reasons that could be jeopardize my well-being. I have a family I love. I have numerous health issues that could grow worse if I am not regularly taking my many medicines. But the Paxil and Wellbutrin leveled my outlook, rather than lifted it up. That was no longer acceptable for me, as however well I might be doing, the outlook of more years of just ok, while fighting the idea of suicide, was not enough. I left the drug regime, and for a couple three months I was in hell. And then, the sun appeared in my sky. It has been three months since then, and I remain in control, of what had to be controlled by meds.
I realize it might have been different. This isn’t about a momentary victory, nor is it a situation where I am saying what I have experienced is universal. And I am not complaining about what has happened over the years. My life should be seen as good and fortunate, as what I could have faced was avoided, by choices of my birth mother and my adoptive family. So, some people on the outside looking in might see me as a “fortunate son”. However, fortunate I’ve been, I can promise you, having an INFJ Myer’s Briggs character analysis, makes every painful thing you go through worse.
I’ve also made a hell of a lot of mistakes. I believe in God, but some of the mistakes I’ve made, have been in the arena of bad moral choices, despite trying to live by a series of good moral choices. In addition not only have I made poor choices in the realm of morals, I’ve chosen to destroy various
friendships out of something as simple as insults. I have often chosen not to forgive. And that isn’t a Christian behavior. That is, I have endured and/or suffered depression, and often, made it worse by my own hand. So I try to repent and change my ways. There absolutely exist areas of my existence that have blind spots and arrogance. I do not always perceive or understand when I've hurt someone, or less importantly, offended them. I am absolutely not perfect. I strive to overcome my own dark and instinctual failings. I made more mistakes when I was recently using alcohol to fight relentless pain. When I was sober the pain remained, if not being worse, and I'd often offended people by my boozy brain's words. I have tried to rise above repeating such, and repented of what I said, it is, nonetheless, something I hurt others by, and repent of the cause.
"It's obvious that it's after dinner," says sir Kay unable to hold his tongue. "There are more words
in a potful of wine than in a barrel of beer". Chrétien de Troyes
FOREVER
“Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror. But you are eternity and you are the mirror.” Kahlil Gibran
I do believe that understanding God is not easy, because he speaks the language of the divine. We hear the truth in our daily life, we ignore the whispers, that tell us, how great is this world? And the reason we don't see the evidence, is that we've polluted our world, and polluted our hearts. We cry help me in silent prayer, without following through upon our part to make our own life better. Do I judge other faiths? Mostly no. Does that condemn the followers of other religions to Hell?
No. It allows their own path, their own experiences their personal views guide them. I think God is far too great, too powerful, too perfect for a person like me to perceive. So, do we all get to Heaven? No, I doubt it, but, I also doubt my own ability to judge for others, or to assume the completeness and vastness of the cosmos. Do I think people of different beliefs about politics are going to Hell? In general I try to ignore the person's religious views and assume their political views are a construct. We all have to make a deal with this world to find some sort of hope or happiness. Who am I to judge another person's pain, walk through horror, or life? I am no one.
I try to assume the best of a person, not necessarily a government, even should the evidence seem to indicate the worst of possibilities. We are all different, but in that we have more similarities as a species than we can possibly imagine. To assume another person's goals and life aren't good enough for a being who created the universe? That just isn't up to me. I believe eternity exists. I might fail. I might die not knowing my own future, but whatever happens to me, there is something far far deeper than this existence.
The air that fills my lungs includes air from the lungs of all who preceded my being. I am unique, but part of an enormous vision of the universe that, breath by breath I can participate in, without understanding all there is. Despite forgiveness being out there, I am unable to negotiate between free and open discussion of truth and making others feel ok. I regret that my nature is such that I can't "get along" or play nice.
I try to be kind, and refuse to publicly insult other people who are simply existing. The great majority of public persons aren't here to get along, aren't here to play nice. If I am asked about my views of them, their beliefs, their public actions, I am not going to measure the likely response and then answer. I am often told then that my views do not fit the template of various Biblical based views. I believe in Christ, in Salvation, in Redemption.
“From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them, and that is eternity.” Edvard Munch
WHY POETRY?
I have not forged a path in my mind where my work and life would go. Not an academic poet, writing for academic audiences, I don’t write poetry to show off my knowledge of forms and styles. I've read and studied poetry for less academic time than I’ve written it but I still am in process of taking it all in. Poetry is something that moves me, often moving me deeply.
My response to it isn’t to do something exactly like it. I’ve considered the entire of my life to have been one of gathering information for my own benefit. However, as much as I've read, and have written, poetry is a means of message sharing. I'm not someone who by writing is trying to show my huge “poetry talent”. I believe a poet must be reflective and transparent. My work reflects that. I'm a poet, because I write poems. Other poets show their talents in demonstrating their ability to write within styles or forms, and that is great. My sole purpose of writing is to present a message.
“The timeless in you is aware of life's timelessness. And knows that yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream.” Khalil Gibran
ARE YOU WILD OR OR ARE YOU TAMED?
I was asked something by someone who assumed I might know, and I don't. But the question was why is farm raised fish less flavorful than line caught, or wild caught fish. I don't know who to ask, and I looked it up and only really found opinions, and very few facts. But if I might hijack such a question for my own purposes, maybe we should see our lives in a similar frame of reference. If we reach out, try new things, fight against whatever grieves us, perhaps that fight, that freedom, and that ability to recognize foes and threats, makes us stronger. Yeah, Friedrich Nietzsche maybe wasn't so insane when he said what doesn't kill us will make us stronger. I think that is a bit simplistic, because if you are in a car accident that makes you paralyzed and or mostly brain dead, it didn't kill you, and you didn't get stronger. The concept though, is strong. If you lived a sheltered existence you might see anything new as being risky. You might not learn truth, and be forced, by your ignorance, to be unable to cope with new thoughts, new experiences, or new people.
“That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.” Friedrich Nietzsche
BETRAYED?
Betrayal is the breaking or violation of a presumptive contract, trust, or confidence that produces moral and psychological conflict within a relationship amongst individuals, between organizations or between individuals and organizations.
Jesus Christ was betrayed by Judas Iscariot.
Matthew 26:47-49
The Judas Kiss
47
While He was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, suddenly arrived. A large mob, with swords and clubs, was with him from the chief priests and elders of the people. 48 His betrayer had given them a sign: “The One I kiss, He’s the One; arrest Him!” 49 So he went right up to Jesus and said, “Greetings, Rabbi!” and kissed Him.
Christ was aware he was never meant to live and get old with the children of earth. I suspect it still hurt to be betrayed, and I know it had to hurt being crucified. I was betrayed when I was kissed by someone who didn't love me, but wanted all that I could give her. Beyond hurt, being betrayed, whoever is Judas in your drama, your masquerade, means you experience a moment when you realize a few things. You can never trust most around you who do not love you and some who love you still betray you. It isn't to say most will, anyone might, and, you can not live in fear. Betrayal causes you to lose hope in the word, the actions, the motives of others.
I believe that love invites openness, especially to the one you love, but invites betrayal, because you cannot love with any sort of perfection. I do not mention all of this to call out anyone. I have reached an age where most of my hopes, dreams, aspirations fall short in actual existence than the plan.
Whatever I want, or I might need, is nearly, almost always, never fulfilled. Contrary to the previous edition, where I discuss perfection, this isn't about that. It is about finally realizing that my choices, my hopes, dreams and the aforementioned aspirations, become possible in part, not in whole. Who you are kissed by has the power to destroy you, if they betray you to others, or betray your secrets, and you can be destroyed simply by loving, never ever doing anything, because by loving you become vulnerable.
There is an amazing principle in religious thought and perception, that, by the fact they we are blessed by the one you'd never expect, or, that god or gods use the flawed vessel to make you blessed, we have understanding that, this would not have happened, outside of either circumstance/coincidence, or divine plan. So, if you do not love, you do not become vulnerable, but, if you are open to being loved by someone you do not expect, you see the whole power of love, godly and human.
My (adoptive) father was rather mean to me, he didn't have a father figure and he was someone who was flawed. He had the heart of a child who didn't have a father in his life until later, and even then, never grew up in the embrace of a father who loved him and worked with him to improve him, never
understood how hurtful things he did were, because he was not blessed to have had a person in his life to show him. All that said, when my wife and I lost two babies via ectopic pregnancies, we were devastated. I was ready to give up. My wife was broken. Without even asking his wife, my (adoptive) mother, he said I want you guys to know that whatever doctors can do to get you pregnant, we'll pay for that. This wasn't a small offer. Reproductive health is expensive. God had moved his heart, and he just said what was on his heart. The flawed, imperfect vessel allowed my wife to experience her deepest desire, and to redeem her wounds. And, I was given my son, who I would never have understood the depths of the blessing of having, without my father's act. He was flawed, but, by being open to being blessed, we learned how the godly principle of hope born from the ashes, and perfection from beings who are imperfect.
So, unless you love, or trust, you cannot be betrayed. But if you do not love, you live an empty cold
existence. YOU deserve love, but who is to say, we do not deserve betrayal? Whoever is your Judas, realize, you would not be able to be betrayed had you never been loved or had never loved. It is a risk we must take, if we wish to love deeper. It hurts. Love hurts. Life hurts. But without you choosing to hope, choosing to love, your life will hurt a whole helluva lot more. So, choose loneliness and safety. You get to choose. But know, that your choice, too, has deep consequences.
AWARENESS
“In water one sees one's own face; But in wine one beholds the heart of another” French Proverb
A while ago I (and everyone else) was asked in a class what do you think is the definition of reflection. I said it is the looking at something and considering the image of your self in the subject, be it glass, water or whatever. If you were to suggest there is more to it than that, of course there is. But, for the purpose of the class, about how to teach, I think it is 100% accurate. Whether by reading journals written at the time, deep thought leading to memories being sharpened, or professional level discussions with trained others, we become better at seeing our flaws, and if we are willing to change, these can be building blocks towards self improvement, taking responsibility for our flaws, and taking direct action to fix the problems.
But, if you ask some folks, they have preconceived notions of you that will never be shaken. Someone I know said “when you were young you ate candy all the time.” This is almost 100% false. I ate my Easter candy, I ate Christmas candy, but, almost never bought any for myself at any other time. Since I've become old and fat, yes, I eat it, but was never told as an adult “you eat candy.” That is ways to have gone to explain that, you reflect because you know who YOU are. You are the only one who knows what you do when others are not around. Whether you have some deviance or fears that cause you to act odd, in private you are the only one who knows this. So, you cannot depend upon any other person's assumptions, notions, ideas of your abilities when you reflect. While other people have valid opinions, the deep soul cleansing and thorough considerations of your mind cannot be left to anyone else. And many people refuse to look this deeply.
I believe you cannot be improved without steps taken to reflect. And I also believe that reflection that is honest is very hard to do. We'd all love to be better than we are. Reflection can be a surgical strike to remove or attempt to correct various flaws, but if it is used without care, it can injure you with self doubt.
GATHER FOR GOOD, NOT FOR EVIL
We are not all the same, and you cannot judge a book by its cover (unless it is a book cover I created, in which case the book is fooking awesome!) and where there is smoke, you usually find fire.
“All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.” Edgar Allan Poe
We are unique but we tend to follow groups and identify with the same. Some groups gather out of shared beliefs, others gather a group based on a collective hurt somewhere else. As a member of a very very small Christian gathering, that called itself a church, 9 of the 11 folks in the church were former Catholics who had either dealt with issues involved the abuse by priests, or, they were former members of the hierarchy who disagreed and were cast out. This diverse group of people were wonderful people, but, most of them were so hurt and/or angry, they could barely function as a leader, follower or anything but a complainer. That isn't the fault of the Roman Catholic church, although it was involved.
The problem and/or faults were something most people do not consider, which is, if a group forms it isn't necessarily going to work. If you build a group from the exiles and cast offs, the burned outs and the wounded, you might be doing a service in the form of group therapy. To build and move forward, you have to shake the disease of other people owing anything to you. It ended up that the group was so dysfunctional I left, but also, so did the pastor and his wife. Any meeting I went to ended up in bickering and discord.
But some groups have members with shared values, common core ideals, and a similar sort of outlook towards whatever greater deed they wish to achieve. Some of those fail, but, it is a sort of group that succeeds more often.
Never assume good faith or hope for a higher principle if a specific group is moved by the worst things humans want, need, or do. I do believe that there need be advocates for the innocent, such as found in an abuse therapy group, a law firm kicking the ass of pedophiles in organizations of faith. But, those are different, and aim specifically in goal. Righteous anger is rare, but when there is a reason for it and that righteous anger is burning, I am all for that.
FALLEN DREAMS? GET BACK UP
I want everyone to know, yes, I have fallen, many times. I lived ten years without hope, and slowly my heart broke, and my soul turned bitter. I love many people, I loved deeply, and with depth. I realized that it didn't matter, that my love and my choices do not make others change. Only you can control your own decisions, motives and actions. Do not fall to despair. There is hope, and the more you allow yourself to be more than what life would otherwise give you, hope is not wrong. Hope can turn you bitter if unrealized.
But, you can turn bitter when you worry and despair over the choices of others, rather than your own. I am not perfect, I am deeply flawed, but the story is not done, my life is not over, and I can choose to act and believe, and hope, in ways that my life is as fulfilling as it can be. Others can hurt you, yes, but, if you choose hope and to work on your own self, it is not what others do, it is what you respond with.
“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.” Pablo Neruda
Life offers us many choices we might prefer not to take. I can eat properly and exercise, or I can get Diabetes, type two. I can invest in my mental health, read moral and religious works, or, I can become desolate, isolated and bitter. I am not defined by my flaws, no matter their depth. I can be better than I've been, but only if I am aware of who I am, and why I am. The seasons are perfect metaphors for our lives. We crawl, we run, we walk, and we walk with a cane. We cannot avoid that. But, it is important to realize, Winter comes every year. Choosing an outlook that is so dark and hopeless will keep you from knowing joy, however much you deserve it.
Trust me, there are things you cannot do in Winter, you can, however, see the sun, see the beauty, survive and move forward. There is more than sorrow and you only grieve that you've had something good enough to have a place in your heart that you miss when it leaves. You can know more, be more, hope more. And you can surrender, and see everything as being unattainable. It is up to you.
“In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” Albert Camus
QUESTION AUTHORITY
Ongoing and unanswered question of "Is human progress worthwhile" is due to even more questions being unanswered. If humans see anyone of other ideas, other beliefs as being unworthy of life, how can we possibly advance into the future? If authorities are given constant growth in power, and their effort to further that expansion of power, why should you worry, that is, isn't the end not your choice by that time? Why should human progress be considered in the light of ethical, moral and simple assessment of human worth? Well, in my view, if lives have worth, every moment we survive under authoritarian control, we lose the agency to act upon our own behalf. Assuming that government has our best interests at heart is in fact a juvenile, foolish, and deadly assumption. When we, in fact, now live without the chance to be anything we desire, within our reach, we've entered slavery.
Do you want to accept slavery? Do you deserve it if you do?
“And out of that hopeless attempt has come nearly all that we call human history—money, poverty, ambition, war, prostitution, classes, empires, slavery—the long terrible story of man trying to find something other than God which will make him happy.” C.S. Lewis
I am neither from the GOP or Democratic parties. I agree with many of the concepts of libertarianism, but in practice I have found most of the practitioners of big L libertarianism to be complete and utter assholes. At the same time, the three people in life who have moved me the most
deeply by their intellect, compassion for others, and trustworthiness are in fact, libertarians, (small L please). So, I think those of high intellect who choose to be Libertarian are not necessarily assholes.
But, those who don't have the high intellect chose such a stand because it is selfish, self promotional, and holds no values in anything outside of their own mind. So, while I see that I am an American speaking of American political ideals, perhaps what I am writing about is different. Maybe the American labels of the political beliefs deserve a global label, that is, one that is not confined to the state and national borders of this country.
I've known communists and socialists. I've known anarchists and hippies. What I'm describing is, do we serve our masters in reflection of safety? Do we surrender our worth as an individual to somehow make certain that we are safe? Perhaps I am wrong, but I think if someone is unable to become what they desire due to the interference from a greater government or over arching authority, we have become their servants and slaves. Who are we?
Are we born simply to sleep, eat, work, procreate, and die? Are we alive, or are we filled to any depth with false beliefs that seem to momentarily satisfy some deeper unspoken needs that you cannot understand, but seem to live by? We humans form the cogs of industry. We pay taxes to the state, but the state has stolen our own sovereignty and it presently attempts, with every law, to steal more. Ask yourself truthfully, is this what we deserve? Should we give the government more control of our lives?
Humans are not pieces of the machines of steel. We have lives and souls of worth. We are not
the problem we face, despite the attempts of others to define the contest between corporate body and the individual cell. We deserve freedom, hope, love, and health. If we give over control of our lives to the state, we deserve to have those qualities defined by the state, dispensed by the state, and controlled by the state.
“There were things, your own acts, from which you could never recover. Something was killed in your breast: burnt out, cauterized out.” George Orwell
SEEDS OF OUR LABOR
I believe we have only so many years, minutes, seconds of life. This life was given to us like a gift from the being responsible for creating us. You might believe that there is no ultimate point of creation, rather, our lives were born from the cycle of evolution, propagation and biological determinants. If you think this, you are absolutely welcome to do so. But if you do so, every life becomes an accident, ignoble, undeserving of anything. Why? Because without purpose we are condemned to accept what we are offered, rather than, choose our path, and negotiate life as one of agency, and ability.
Do I then think some lives are more important than others? No, actually. All lives matter, regardless if the system we live in says otherwise. All lives are equal, despite the shit stew we've been fed, and the dark delicate decisions we make about others. We do not have divisions of better and worse. All Lives come from the same source, WHATEVER that source is. As such, I refuse, in fact, I DEFY the desire from others to control my outcome. I refuse. I defy the desire in others to say I do not deserve hope, freedom, health or especially, love.
Yes I have a religious belief. It isn't a response to indoctrination. Every second I live, I accept the consequences of living, but, I refuse to believe we are dropped into existence, and leave shortly (in the long term view) thereafter. We lose our purpose, duty, worth not by birth, but by not accepting, embracing choosing to make it have purpose, to accept the worth, to perform the duty, to enhance the worth by how we live.
Albert Camus tells the story how Sisyphus is thought by humans to be so sad, so crushed in soul. When in fact, does Sisyphus ever state that? No, he is made better by his labor, and he is happy in it. We are Sisyphus. If we are Sisyphus it is incumbent upon us to find out why these labors should make us happy. Happiness isn't an accident. Sorrow isn't required. We grieve loss, but, have we celebrated the reason we end up grieving? Life is its own reward, apart from evolutionary and biological accident, nor noble birth from an interested creator, should we do nothing, our life is not a celebration, it is still birth.
Should you abrogate your personal sovereignty by giving that personal power back to the state that seeks your gift. What is there? There is only you to find and define YOUR purpose and worth. Do not, now or ever, surrender your being to another, or to the state.
“Sovereignty is not given, it is taken.” Mustafa Kemal Atatürk
NEVER SURRENDER
Each 40 seconds someone dies by suicide, that's 99 people every 66 minutes around this world. If you know a person in pain reach out. If you are a person in pain, reach out. Suicidal minds can be helped. Don't accept a stigma and ignore the truth. Love can conquer hurt. Love DID conquer hurt in my own life.
Despite being aware of why I was depressed, knowing didn't help. I lingered in the thought of why should I not kill myself. I love my wife and son, and family and friends, but still, depression is a disease. Depression alone makes you more vulnerable to a number of diseases. Depression steals joy even when there is joy in your life. I prayed to understand why I was plagued constantly with thoughts of ending it all. I realized that, even with a variety of reasons for the depression, the worst of those was that I was choosing to be wounded by someone. Being wounded by them led me to hold that wound, and refuse to forgive them, because they would never apologize.
I was wounded, and, saw my wounds as being righteously held, not righteously given, but, I found it hard to say I forgive you, because I was still bleeding.
Realizing that I chose to be broken, I could just as easily choose to forgive. And I did. The pain of that wound lifted, without the one who wounded me saying sorry. It is a moral and eternal truth, that you are not someone else's to wound but you wound yourself. How you respond to this all, is how you decide to progress or regress. The person who wounded me is not the problem. The problem for me, was that I was still bleeding and seeing that, I could not bear the thought of giving the person a pass.
But I was called upon by God to forgive others. I am told in the bible that why should God forgive you, when you refuse to forgive others? I take that to heart. I chose my pain. I chose to be depressed. And while depression is a disease, I made mine worse.
While no one experiences joy and happiness throughout their entire existence, I am ready to start
accepting the joy, rather than holding on to hurt. Thanks to those of you who have watched me writhe in agony, and reached out. I have no one to blame but myself, but I thank you all for giving me the hand to help pull myself from the mud.
SHORT PROSE: MY PERSONAL QUEST
My own kingdom and people had been savaged and fled their lands. I had to be the one to defend them, the king and his armies had been crusading, and were gone. Rumors and stories of my success spread to neighboring lands. And I was begged to slay the beast in a somewhat distant land. Now, I was not chosen for my subtly or my intellect. I was not thought, that I know of, to be beautiful or moral. I am told that beyond simple need, that they chose me because they believed that I would do what they requested, and because, of all the people they knew, I was the single person who would do what was asked.
My word is my bond, and if I give my word to do something, I do it. The king of this distant kingdom and his people knew this, and the villages and people of the land hiding behind the walls of the castle hoped that I could do, what they themselves could not do. I was not a great warrior. I was not a flawless morally, but I am a virtuous man. The king's people seemed to know that if I was willing, I'd die doing my assigned task, or I'd complete it.
Few people do this. Many are called, few answer, and of those who answer, few follow through the entire way. Oh, there are many who are superior than me in battle, in virtue, in mind, or beauty. But I come from a line of men and women, who carry with them the blood of tenacity. And that
is often what wins battles, even when there is nothing to hope for, nothing to give you anything to calm your fears. Tenacity is what wins the day.
For the quest I had to prepare myself. I had to slay my own dragons within. I had to conquer fears inside my heart, and imagine myself doing what I had begun. To quail before the beast would defeat
me, to acknowledge in my heart that I had to know that I was either going to slay the beast or it would slay me, I needed to find contentment in that.
I prayed a good deal. Strengthening my resolve was important. But I also had to prepare my heart. Should I pass from this existence I had to have a clean heart. To fight to the end with a beast, I had to be certain of my moral standing, or the death I might face would kill me here, and condemn me in the other realm, that of my lord and savior.
I had to forgive those who had not asked to be forgiven. I had to give charity to those who had not earned it. I had to be kind and generous to those who I did not wish to be kind nor generous toward. I was faced with the reality of the walk of one who walks with Christ. The Templars who I respect and admire did so. Now 200 years since, I do so as well.
My armor and my sword, my horse, my horse's armor, everything my craft requires, I had blessed by a holy man. I could not afford to be, in any fashion, careless. From the cathedral my squire and I rode to the cave entrance of the dragon said to be terrorizing the land of my great king. If this was my time to die, I was ready. I rode with the hopes of a people who held onto their fears, hiding behind walls. I had no fears. As a knight I lived in the knowledge that I might die at any moment in combat. And knowing this, I am free. Because being prepared to die, and being ready to die, I am not in fear of dying.
I lured the dragon from his hiding place, in the darkness of his cave. Wearing the red cross upon my white tunic, I made no attempt to hide my allegiances, no disguising my loyalty to the cross. The dragon was not large, as dragons go. It was however, foul, in fire breath, and in language. It spoke in Latin and curses, and singed my armor, and frightened my horse.
I speared the dragon with my lance, wounding it grievously, and dismounted. I sent my mount to my
squire. And drew my long sword. The eyes of the dragon turned a different color, and the breath of the beast torched my legs. I was burned, as grievously as I had wounded it.
My long sword brought an end to the beast, and I collapsed, breaking off the my lower leg armor, as quickly as I could. I could see the raw flesh, blood, and wounds, and I prayed for healing. But knew, instinctively, if infection now, or death didn't take me, I was done as a warrior.
God blessed me to fight in his name, as a knight for his cause. The castle and people, and its king did pay well enough for me to be cared for in my recovery and the rest of my days, but death itself would have been more fitting. Because this victory had a cost more than I wished to pay. Survival was more costly than death.
THE POEMS
Yes I served my Lord
I was a knight, of the high King of France, for a decade. I left my land in 1188, to serve during the Third Crusades. Amongst our tasks were now to wrest Jerusalem back from Saladin, the Saracen king, the one righteous man amongst the pagan tribes of the Islamic lands.
At the Horns of Hattin the flower of Crusader’s defense was slain. I was amongst those sent, we were the next wave to enter into that land, the East, of the exotic Mohammedans. And my ship was attacked, by Turks or Saracens. Armor, chainmail is sturdy and stout in defensive fight but being thrown overboard, I sank to the Aegean floor.
Mykonos, the beautiful island paradise was my last sight. My sword settled in the mud, and I pulled myself to the shore. Nude as Lord God Jehovah made me, I turned to the brush for cover and ever since that day I have made my life peaceful, I worship God and praise him, for saving my life, by giving me another. Wheat and fish are found here, and I am content and full.
Somewhere the water dwelling nymphs may find my helm. The devil fish may find my chainmail and shield, and my sword may decorate a dark and beautiful sea floor realm, but I am alive, saved for this life, and to Jehovah’s call I will yield.
They may display my arms and armor upon a central island for mocking, yet I am the one laughing, for I am still walking.
“They can be like the sun, words.
They can do for the heart what light can for a field.” St. John of the Cross
In His Service
Oh to know you
To inherit eternity
What does it require?
Is there no magic
That can bring us closer?
No words in sequence ?
Only power in your lexicon
Your perfection is no secret
Great in knowledge and reason
You took me from Babylon
Saved my people from bondage
When slaves in Egypt
Now your water runs through me
You've quenched my thirst
Following you is not religion
Knowing you is truth
No rituals followed
Can bring you closer
Only communion
And repentance
Forgiveness
Let me be an incense
Upon your altar
Let me be a scent
That pleases you
Let me be in the service
Of my king
Let me be yours
Oh my lord
“Above all the grace and the gifts that Christ gives to his beloved is that of overcoming self.” St. Francis of Assisi
Made of Flesh and Death
Sometimes I just want to live and face the crashing waves and tides
Sometimes I just wish to die, dive in, be sucked into the currents of time
Whatever I do is wrong, it makes no difference, it makes no sense
Whatever I say is criticized, called incompetent, under the microscope lens
My dreams are made irrelevant from my flaws
My fears overwhelm me no matter the cause
Sometimes I wish I could forget, hope is dismembered
Sometimes it hurts to remember, looking at nothing in the mirror- just regret
This life is worth living, I just cannot pay the cost
This life is worth having, but I cannot win for having lost.
I am a good son, all I do is pray, I am a good boy, I pray every day
I am a failure, all I do is prey, I am an idiot, will someday fall from grace.
“I come in a world of iron...to make a world of gold” Dale Wasserman
Questions and Answers
Bitter are the questions for they burn
The answers are the thing because if you
Take the spinal column out you will still have bone
Take the heart from its cage, you still spill blood
Lift your eyes to the horizon and you will see the sun
But when the night falls, the sun still spins about
Understanding the problem isn’t the same as an answer
Knowing what you want isn’t the same as having it
Stopping the smoking doesn’t kill the cancer
Too many fail to answer understand or know
Too many desire more than they fear
And where do we go when we never fear
But to a place where our hearts are burst
Our tears are bitter, and our backs are broken
And our life ends again and again.
“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.” Edgar Allan Poe
Two
In the deepest chasms
I swim and belong
Desolation brings pain
Screaming my loss
Your miserable anthems
All my hope is gone
I've been driven insane
You know I paid the cost
And now what is there
Two adults who act like children
They bear the wounds of battle
Fighting wars that have no fucking end
A curse created unmoved by prayer
I confess I am the creator of all sin
Deep within I remain so fragile
My soul refuses to transcend
Tell me the secrets of your soul
You know I've lingered in disaster
I have the same thoughts and feelings
I mourn the loss of what was good
I regret and give back control
I no longer desire being ringmaster
So cold now, I know I'm bleeding
Time to end our childhood
We deserve to be abandoned
Left in the hands of others
We refuse to become moral
We refuse to grow up
The most calm parents maddened
The toxic air we breathe smothers
We are less than human, quite mortal
Enough must surely be enough
“An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.” Mahatma Gandhi
Though Weak There is a Fire
Though weak from the medicines
The chemicals, born by chemistry
Inside of my heart
There is a fire
With thoughts of my love
You are my only desire
Your lips are a wine the taste is ecstasy
And should I fall
Know you are divine
If I fail I beg that you share my elegy
Nothing I can do will ever forestall
The end I began this life with a crawl
From the womb
And now I am dying
From the cold still I rise from this tomb
Of great expectations
“À l'aurore, armés d'une ardente patience, nous entrerons aux splendides Villes. (In the dawn, armed with a burning patience, we shall enter the splendid Cities.)” Arthur Rimbaud
Seeds of Doubt
Someday soon
Life will be consumed
With no evidence of existence
Only viscera and bones spat out
The doom approaches
The shadow of life falls upon the moon
High above the blue
What is left that matters
Nothing
There is only now
And the seeds of doubt
There is only this second
And nothing that happened before
Remains
Nothing in the future will happen
Unless something will change
And the truth cannot be seen
Or felt
Or understood
For nothing will change
Nothing ever does
Or at least, no one has survived
The end of time
And returned again
Until there is a shout
We were wakened
Told that time is over
“People who live in society have learnt how to see themselves, in mirrors, as they appear to their friends. I have no friends: is that why my flesh is so naked?” Jean-Paul Sartre
Crush the Flower
We will crush the flower
To gather the scent
Kill the plant
For the momentary pleasure
Sacrifice a life of work
To get a week of leisure
What do we really want
When our lives are empty
And the dreams we have taunt
Work and toil for some illusory ideal
And the result haunts us
The journey is ended before it is begun
Lord, there is no justice
We hunger for you
For the truth
And find none
“What is the use of a house if you haven't got a tolerable planet to put it on?” Henry David Thoreau
She was perfect in form, lithe, agile and erotic
She sang and I listened I was moved by her sorrow's song
Her finger and voice beckoned me to follow
Yet, I could not, I could never
Her name I cannot speak again, her lips I refused to ever kiss
And then she called me without even knowing my number
She whispered that she loved me but how could she?
We'd never had met but my heart was hollowed
And somehow she knew my hunger
My soul was covered in shadow
My soul hallowed
By the love
I could never have
I saw her as a black swan
Unpredictable, incomprehensible
Beautiful, lithe, erotic, and moving
My soul burst forth
In a decade of sorrow
Here I stood
Alone
Broken
Forever after
“Celibacy goes deeper than the flesh.” F. Scott FitzgeraldI am unable
How am I supposed to lead my son to wisdom
When I am flawed to my very core
How am I supposed to teach and live in peace
When the world wages war
Who is able to rise above
When this world is broken
Who is the one, who will reach out in love
With love so flowing
Because it isn’t me
I am emptied of everything
It isn’t me and won’t be me despite my love for him
We have a green and blue planet polluted to be grey
We have a wonderful place to live that we’ve filled with hate
I want him to be different
Than me or anyone but how can I teach him
When all I believe comes undone there is no blame in me
I am not pointing fingers in rage, I am simply asking
Who knows the way, I don’t know the way
No one knows the way
He was born into a generation
One innocent of our crimes
But they were swimming in the dangerous tides
In another generation’s moral debt
From the wages of our culture wars and terroristic threats
Building and killing taking without giving
How can we lead anyone when you or he
Can see how we are living
“The state calls its own violence law, but that of the individual, crime.” Max Stirner
Moment of Truth
You were like a moment of truth that place in time when someone looks
Stops in place and says holy god what was I thinking?
Why am I here
Even without evidence or proof
Less a foreign language prayer book
We stop and say even with my upbringing
God come near
We are nothing
We have been nothing
We are dust
We know if Jesus you aren't coming
Then we've spent a lot of time for nothing
“The first time [Christ] came to slay sin in men. The second time He will come to slay men in sin.” A. W. Pink
God Only Knows
God only knows what you believe, God only knows
God only knows what you do, God only knows
But you think that you do too
Not matter how you deceive
Your lies again are nothing special
Nothing new to you
Nothing different, so don’t you grieve
It doesn’t matter if its true
You said you believed in her
When it was so otherwise the case
You said that you loved her
And you said it to her face
God only knows, God only knows
How can you justify what you do
How can you be without a clue
You have to be the one who lives your life
I’d never tell you to be someone else
But do you realize just what you are
You destroy everything but yourself
You consume everyone else’s mental health
I walk through life wounded and bloody
You get off without a scratch
But I don’t envy you or the things you do
“You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.” Oscar Wilde
Bitter
I fear that
Whatever I do
My suffering will be in vain
Nothing can last,
Some things die slowly, not fast
Dancing to a beat
A drumbeat for the dead
Her love lacked passion
If that is what you’d call it
I was alone
Waiting in the solitude
Begging for death
Or some small measure
Of satisfaction
Her perfumes fill the air
And her beauty is a distraction
From all my pain due to her
My mind is broken,
My spirit crushed
I have nothing left,
Had so very little to start
She tore apart my heart
I never had a chance
Nothing I do could last
Nothing I do could matter
For to her I was a child
Needing direction
Rather than a lover
Needing compassion
Swiftly falling bitter tears
Cannot wash the years
From memory
Nor replace action
Or attraction
She treated me as a stranger
Showed me not love but anger
Nothing I said mattered
Everything I did scattered
To the winds
Years of pain
Seeds of sorrow
Broken love
Not together
No tomorrow
Not ever
Never
The ties she severed
Leaving me adrift
With no hope
Devastated, bereft
Left behind alone
Broken spirit
Heart cleft
Cut in half by her
Never going to trust
Anyone again
Never going to love
Anyone again
The fear will remain forever
Love turned to dust
For I gave my heart
For I gave my soul to her to keep
And she took them and left
Left me to die
My tears forever fall
Pour down across my chest
These tears that I cry
Stain the ground
For they are acid
From the bitterness
Of the pain in my heart
“It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit.” Noël Coward
Wishes and Dreams
Wishes and dreams fall easier than tears for her
Her heart is closed for repairs and she isn’t ready to love
Again
She spent a lifetime in his arms, and that was enough
but then he left, and her pain started
And her hopes and wishes went away
Her dreams had died, her tears cried out
It all drove her insane that day
She thought she was tough
but she wasn’t even strong
And the waves pour over her, like they do
When love goes wrong
Frozen in stasis like a body beneath winter’s ice
Her emotions are stunted, so cold and alone
never seeing light
Because she thought he was perfect
She thought they had the perfect life
But then he left her
No time for love
No time for strife
He just left her
To her self
And the wages of time
“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.” Oscar Wilde
Deluge Approaching
Before there were books
Before there was awareness
The world was beset
By floods
From Gilgamesh
To modern Bangladesh
We remain bereft
And vulnerable
Great Ra feared so
Goddess Hathor
His eye was sent
She killed and so many
Blood, flowing into the Nile River
Into the ocean
The first deluge destroyed
And left only few
But Ra no longer feared
So instead renewed the world
A small unimportant man
Who was reverent
Heard a god whispering
Utnapishtim built a boat
Gathered family
Some others and beasts
A terrible storm raged
Utnapishtim and wives
Become immortal
For being so obedient
And the Gods renewed the earth
Noah heard God speak
Both in the form of Angels
And visitations
Built an Ark
Gathered family
And beasts
For the world had to die
Due to human depravity
And God’s sorrow
For the world was broken
To renew it first it must be destroyed
The rains poured
When the world awoke
God allowed the Ark to settle
Where people would thrive
9 years Gun tried
For nine years he attempted to dam
The destructive waters
That covered the land
Because he failed,
He brought dishonor
The gods executed him
Gun's son, Yu took upon himself
The mantle of water lord
He drained the floodwaters
Away through channels and mechanisms
A winged dragon showed him
Where to dig, where to stop the water
And for his glory
He was given honor and trust
Thereafter became emperor
Manu washed himself with water
Using a jar, that held a fish
Who asked the God Manu
To protect him
From the disaster approaching
From the coming flood
So Manu did
When it had grown to enormous size
Manu released the fish and it gave wisdom
Even more information to Manu
Who built a ship and survived the flood
To then create the race of Man
We walk about
We work and function
But our footprints are a stain
Upon the world
We breathe polluted air
That we poisoned
We drink water
That we have fouled
Everything we do has cost
And the flood approaching
This time
Will see no survivors
For we are lost
And live upon the ship
That is meant to save us
“We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear.”Martin Luther King, Jr.
In praise of the hangman
Beware death, you are not my friend
You are the place this journey takes
I look to the horizon
A black hole approaching that is our end
Has left me wide awake
Come now despair, Come now oblivion
The blade that cuts sharpest
Is the one I should use
If I am serious
With death I am an artist
As I repair the noose
I am oblivious
I'd prefer to be free
Of the edge, here, but I am near
I'd say I have, but I have not
It is said that I believe
Pain and tears left me unaware
I prepare the noose, the knot
Every shovel load removes the dirt
Deeper and deeper I dig
My very grave
I felt self righteous from the hurt
Sharing my cup of tears I swig
And give back the sins I was forgave
Every load of dirt removed reveals a hole
And in the earth I prepare
My future bed
In every moment lays my own soul
Life isn't remains unfair
And rather than rise, I remain dead
“Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement.” J.R.R. Tolkien
I am a fool
I am a fool, I know
I've been told, repeatedly
My heart is moved
By her soul
By dreams unrealized
By the tolls
As I watch her writhe
In such agony
I know I can't do a thing
To save her from collapse
I can't fucking do anything
She is far away and yet
She moves me
Her pain hurts my soul
The knowledge of her wounds
Burns deep in my viscera
I am undone
I have nothing within
That can save her from the pain
And I long to hold her
To comfort her
But am too far away again
“I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer.” Fyodor Dostoevsky
LOVE : the gift of the creator
There comes an immutable cost
We can never escape
Keeps us in poverty
An immeasurable fear
Leads to being paralyzed
Can never retaliate
No one perceives the big picture
There is one who knows perfect truth
And final justice
After a life time who gets enough love
The price of hate is such that none can know
Like a train on tracks without terminus
Soon the efforts bankrupt the soul
Without love what are we?
Empty, burning, wounded, empty vessels
“Well and good if all things change, O Lord God, provided I am rooted in You." St. John of the Cross
Allure of perfection
It is said
Wherever you've found it
Perfection doesn't last
And then you learn why
That dream is so fine
Sublime, the finest repast
Neither living nor dying
The envious others with hearts
Bursting seams
Will I never
Ever find it
Such a place
Such a love
Even as I chose my path
Never choosing to flee
Waking nor sleeping
Days and nights passed
Without movement of time
Seconds tick
Minutes accrue
And the hours burn
Into a fetid vile stew
Walking between standing ravens
I see the sun above
And why do I care
If am I mad to see so clearly
Living is no boon
Always ends in doom
Solitude beckons
With Hell the answer
If you dare question
When you are banned
From the gates of Heaven
"In anything at all, perfection is finally attained not when there is no longer anything to add, but when there is no longer anything to take away, when a body has been stripped down to its nakedness." Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Sinning
No one was calling
Yet I heard the whispers
As they passed through the wind
I realized I was fallen
Calling me a sinner
I was rotten within
Accompanied with mocking
I entered my last winter
On my way to the abyss
“And if you gaze for long enough into an abyss, the abyss gazes also gazes into you.” Friedrich Nietzsche
You fill my lungs with the air I breathe
From the beginning
I knew you must exist
With every sense I have, I felt you
I felt you breathe the air into my lungs
With a simple kiss
I spent most of my life
Waiting for you to appear
Like letters in the sky, or twinkling stars
Anything to announce that you were here
For me
The mystery of it all was, I trusted, I believed
I expected miracles
And maybe they happened and I missed them
But I was alone
So I rearranged my faith
From knowing that you would
To hoping you could
Just in case
You might decide
I was worth loving
One so great as you
Down to one as low as me
I knew you were there
Somehow, I felt you
In the water I drank
To the air I breathed
Upon the ground I walked
There you were, waiting to talk
But you never spoke aloud
Only to my heart
And I worried
Maybe I missed my chance
You were here and
Chose to remain silent
Instead of speaking to me
Let me know
Please
I beg to be redeemed
But I still believe
“I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?" John Lennon
Let us agree, it is dead
Because I knew I refused
Why bother I asked
When asked to give a damn
When offered a last chance
One final dance to reignite a fire
That had died from lack of interest
My heart waited for your words
Your eyes
Anything at all
So I let it die
You poked the corpse
And wondered why
But I knew and didn't ask
It didn't last
Without a hope
Without fuel
For the fire
You didn't care
Until it was gone
So let me die
Alone like I am
Why try
When we both know
It is done
And was
A long time ago
“Life ... is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.” William Shakespeare
Please remember
Please remember
Knowledge of is not causation
Even still
I confess to you
I never meant to do
All things you count
Against me in the book
My name appears without doubt
And I am aware of the accusations
But I was never guilty
Of the worst crimes
I couldn't even understand
How those who point at me
Could do so with any kind of conviction
In the truth
To the contrary
I had reserved my strength
To take your pain
I had counted it as worthy
To be the one who is blamed
I had it in me to be the one
Who loses his name
I give in
I give up
If this is a battle
I've lost
Not won
“There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.” Oscar Wilde
Curtain fall
In eternity's thrall my collar locked
The curtains fall, the story is ended
We have arrived
Reached the final chapter
Down upon my knees
I can only crawl
Lay my body down
Upon this night of rapture
Let me find peace
Let me believe
And hear the call
Waking me to trumpet
At the end of it all
“No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.” F. Scott Fitzgerald
When Love Burned in our Core
How did we get to this place
Cold hearts, frozen embrace
Remember the fire we had
Giving our hearts unclad
We do not get to do this all over
Can we try
Can we return
To when our hearts burnt supernova
Or are we condemned
To fall from orbit
With hearts that never mend
Hearts become orphaned
And never are restored
To the way they were
When love burned in our core
“Her heart was broken. Why would they try to cure her with pills and powders?” Leo Tolstoy
Flawless
What had God wrought sending this perfect woman
She was so powerful, smart, kind, gentle, and welcome
She was very beautiful, unflawed, her blood ran wild
I was in her thrall, amazed, awake, alive
This was place next to her was without fear or pain
She thrilled me without any sort of shame
God was to be deeply thanked
Her visage revealed no guile or angst
Her face was angelic and unstained by hurt
I was lost in the moment, so enamored
Moonlight reflected as purest form of light
While nothing could be read from her eyes
As they were clear and bright
No amount of gaze could decipher her thoughts
Yes, perfection is what God had wrought
And I was amazed
“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.” Rabindranath Tagore
Behind these bars
I can't turn back the clock and do things over
I cannot relive moments where I failed
Those sins mock me daily
But I can live better daily
By learning from them
Yet the fact that I can't make things better
Haunts me
And I know the past is dead
My days grow short
My flesh grows old
And dreams die
My hopes grow cold
All I can do
Is remain true
But I cannot throw open
The doors of my prison
Why do I know liberation?
How did I become my own demon?
Not by anyone else's hand?
Very simply
The piece of mind
That accompanies
Knowing that the time is passed
And that you will not be moved
By anyone else's demand
"It must surely be a tribute to the resilience of the human spirit that even a small number of those men and women in the hell of the prison system survive it and hold on to their humanity.” Howard Zinn
In Your Sleep
They tell me I should trust
That you love me
That I am just jealous
Of how your beauty
Brings the men
All the men to your orbit
With praise and lust
For your taking
But
I am not
Jealous or nervous
I am not without trust
Or fearful of your choice
I know that you are different
Than anyone I have met
Before
I simply am curious
If you dream of me
In your sleep
Or do you play there
While I pray here
That you never stray
Do you dream of me
Do you dream of me
“I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart for so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time.” A.A. Milne
Plague of sorrows
Harvest me
In a field of misery
Grieving the passing
Of the youth
From the land
Elders crawl and beg
And no one is willing
And no one knows why
We stare into the sun
Growing more blind
By the hour
The harvest begun
The draining
Of love
Conquest of our hearts
The darkness
Shall never
Depart
I pray this is a dreaming
But I am not sleeping
It is a nightmare
I am awake so let this be
Let my end be now
I am ready to take
The final curtain bow
The lack of passion
The empty crawl to the ledge
For the end, many are dead
Despite being labeled still alive
I am ready, I am willing, take me
My arms are spread open wide
I am ready and waiting for the day
When the reaper's blade culls the grain
Restores every soul
The harvest is my time to be redeemed
To be made whole
Redeeming my suffering
Making good all I've been through
I am not the one who announces the time
When the harvest begins or goes on
So here I wait
The creator is the one with control
And like this life, it is not mine to keep
Nor mine to dictate so I wait
“If you are too lazy to plow, then you should never expect a harvest.” Proverb 20:4
The Final Night
I have stood nude to the world
I have been alone in the cold
I have been born worse than dead
For knowing the meaning
Of what is not to be known
The mysteries surrounding me
Are no mystery to me
The world is going to pass
I have still kept true
Because of what I know
This world is cursed
It will live only temporarily
My flesh will pass unto dust
My memories will disappear
My soul will flee the decay
As my body is laid
Into the cemetery
In God I will trust
Even as temptations near
I will not stop to delay
But the end beckons
And my chest grows tight
The few breaths I have left
Will be the harvest
Of the final night
“This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper.” T.S. Eliot
Confessional
Awakening
Before I was old
A very long time ago
I was surprised to find
That no one cared about
Things that moved my mind
Let alone my heart and soul
Epiphany
That was when I was young
Encounters with others
Caused me to bleed
This callous world
Drew from me
My being
Grieving
“There is one place where her absence comes locally home to me, and it is a place I can't avoid. I mean my own body. It had such a different importance while it was the body of H.'s lover. Now it's like an empty house.” C.S. Lewis
The Presence of the Eternal
The presence of the eternal
Is announced by perfection
But is neither loud
Nor does it cry for attention
I hear its heart beat
I see the high bright sun
Through the mountains
Casts shadows upon the land
The monoliths of stone
Stare off with dead eyes
To the land below
So obviously made
By a loving creator's hand
I heard a voice and my heart awoke
The Eternal's words
Made my heart sing
I saw his face and my dreams began
In the creator I do believe
As my spirit soars above the desert
I begin to fly
Without wings
I am filled with fire
In my heart it bursts
Wanting to be
Everything the eternal desires
Yes, I can't help but believe
“Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.” J.R.R. Tolkien
When I return this time
You tied my hands, offered me up
Told the crowd they had a choice
You ignored that I was sinless
But I threatened what you think
You wanted me to shut my mouth
I could not you cannot handle
This or any truth
And you cannot end a rebellion
By killing one voice
You cannot stop a fire
By dowsing one candle
Let your fear be a liar
Let the truth be fuel
For your funeral pyre
“Every act of rebellion expresses a nostalgia for innocence and an appeal to the essence of being.” Albert Camus
From the deepest depths of my heart
I offer here a confession
I waited to be delivered
You are my deliverance and redemption
Would you believe me if I said
I loved you before I even knew you
Would you believe I knew you
Before you ever met me
You were a dream
My ascension
A vision
A promise
Someone given to me
In love
To soothe my heart
To heal my scars
You were my hope completed
I could not have imagined a better gift
"Let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we do not grow weary." Galatians 6:9
Persistence
Since the beginning humans have resisted
They've thrived being the most violent
Without relent
Remorseless
High above all others
But that life persists
Is not unusual
The moral are killed first
The clever are then used
Until they are empty
And finally
In the shit hole of existence
And all that is left
Is the blackest hearts
Who care for little
But their own
Very narrowly defined
Desires
They may have this empty
Burnt out
Toxic rock
They may fuck themselves silly
With bombs and rape
But they will die
And enter oblivion
And I will go on
In a different
Yet still eternal
Form
“If you have an important point to make, don't try to be subtle or clever. Use a pile driver. Hit the point once. Then come back and hit it again. Then hit it a third time - a tremendous whack.” Winston S. Churchill
Time and Choices
The clock never stops
The sands fall, relentlessly
The time that sings your life
Refuses every attempt to slow
You are given choices
That are all equally bad
Forgive me
I have to give up and be alone
Or, open my heart and leave home
And enter this dirty world
Don't judge me for the chances I've had
Judge me for the choices I made
Led me to where I am
And to give up my throne
For a chance to be
More than I am
Whatever I am
I am alive despite the storm
Despite the tears
I am surrounded
By those who love me
And those who I love
Fear and love transform me
And someday
I will be reborn
Somewhere
Sometime
Far from here
“God creates out of nothing. Wonderful you say. Yes, to be sure, but he does what is still more wonderful: he makes saints out of sinners.” Soren Kierkegaard
Finally, Lift the Veil
Today I begged fate
To finally lift the veil
Before I gave in to utter decay
My flesh fails
My spirit fades
And I fall before the altars
Of the everlasting
His unfailing gaze
No more defensive leaps
From the absurd to the vulgar
No more ignorant or naive dreams
Of leaving this existence
And all my baggage
Behind
I make this stand
Without sleep
Without strength
Alone and naked
I beg to be swallowed
By the gaping maw
Of existence and destiny
No more guilt
By association
No more pain
From unseen hands of desecration
This body will no longer exist
For you
My enemy's false accusations
This flesh is no longer free
For you to molest
I stand in spirit
Ready for eternity
Ready for my exit
Unto the everlasting stage
Beneath his everlasting gaze
“Do not be afraid; our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.” Dante Alighieri
Like a Phoenix, Rise
In the end you had nothing except your rage
From the memories that you could no longer have
Legacies lost, Histories turned lie
Heart’s rent in sorrow cannot disguise
Anger, vengeance, bitterness turned you mad
Asylums filled in your heart
No place for you to hide
Nothing you could do
To express those bitter words inside
Without destroying what little you had
Left to call yourself
Collapse under the weight of that rage
Let it destroy this life
Release your being, for once breathe
If you need die so that you may finally live again
"When fame's loud trump hath blown its noblest blast, Though long the sound, the echo sleeps at last;
And glory, like the phoenix midst her fires, Exhales her odours, blazes, and expires." Lord Byron
I am now alive
Laying there
Like a corpse
My eyes were closed
My body was still
Taking shallow breaths
No one could rouse me
I was asleep in my flesh
Until I heard you speak
I couldn't imagine life
Without pain
By my life
By my failures
I epitomized defeat
But then you came
And I was awakened
You stirred my heart
Into beating
I could be a fool for believing
But you awoke my soul
By giving it wings
And I could fly
By my knowing
That you live
You live
“Yet some men say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead, but had by the will of our Lord Jesu into another place; and men say that he shall come again, and he shall win the holy cross.” Thomas Malory
To the Deepest Well, the Debts have been cast
Cast off your years
Your sins will not follow
The tears of your sorrows
Will fall with your chains
I call upon you to become whole
I beseech you to respond
Cast off your years
The weight of the world
Will not remain upon your soul
The debts have been cast
To the depths of deepest well
You are free
You are no longer slaves
You are free
You are simply to lay claim
To the legacy of hope
To the legacy of truth
To the promise of freedom
Found in the blood
You are free
“After death something new begins, over which all powers of the world of death have no more might.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer
