Surrender

Is my will stronger than are my fears

Is my desire weaker than my instincts to survive

Are my eyes able to see beyond her vastness

Are my ears drawn irresistibly to her perpetuating sound

Will my mortal body be able to pay her immortal demands

Should I separate from consciousness and allow faith to reign

The sea calls and I am mesmerized to follow

The waves striking at the ground in rhythmic beats to my heart

Her smell envelops all my senses - beyond thought

Her coldness pervades into my warmth and pulls me in deep

Shall I stop seeking breath and separate to fate

Shall I know the greater time - will I emanate into rhyme

Separate to separate from being done; evolve into the one

  

Forgiving Evilness with a Blessing

 

 

Forgiving Evilness with a Blessing

 

Evilness found its executioner tonight

Steeped from the cauldron of hate

And then molded into a vile stake

 

 

It entered into Mother Emanuel’s light

Where love and worship gathered in pray

And it waited amongst them in prey

 

 

The bullets were released with mortal intent

The fallen died in their spilled blood

And survivors shed tears into a flood

 

 

The families spoke of their love and no resent

Against this abominate man of loathing

The church stood firm - to forgive hell’s knowing

 

 

How can one understand the heart

That wears such evil dressings

Or the wounded heart that can still - offer blessings

 

 

 

 

 

La Cara Es Nada

 

The small boy would not sit still at the table

That he spoke thru silence is no fable -

He walked away to capture a bus.

 

That he would rather jump like a super hero

than fall tragically into a sum of zero

So ran the wall and leapt off the cliff of plus.

 

Survival is a lonely empty place

There are no mirrors one needs to face

Growth shall be a process of separation

 

As the actions to be - are too,  the seeds

Of who he is and be may be; the deeds

Are eyes left to stare at the risky resolution.

 

That door, that very door is more.

Heavier to carry; lighter if merry

Enter gently nevertheless, enter intently

 

You will face only, the empty space

The wells of solitude shall bring grace

Though never - ever to be contently

 

For chance can happen

Within the swirling moments - and then

Change may seek your mind once again.

 

 

 

 

 

A Nursery of Insanity with Vanity Doors

A Nursery of Insanity with Vanity Doors

 

The insanity had four doors

Neither vanity was a way out.

 

As endless directions spun upon a compass point

With each circle degree a mere fury joint

 

Between the scars of a past bout

And the forecast of eyes seeing to anoint

 

A mother’s misdeeds and ghastly scores

While father was emptying his gut upon the floors.

 

The only escape from circle’s infinite route

Was to find growth by separation

From the betraying connection

To all true and false relation

 

That created or destroyed the mortal gap

And grasp of mind to its fear and anxiety

Spinning and tittering in a mad society

With pent fears straining to snap.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ravages of Stillness

perhaps you found your way in

one night as an aftermath of ruin

or maybe through the savages of war

could it be that you entered during communion

along with the holy ghost...

 

perhaps you were you always there  - brewing

within dormant genes hiding; waiting

until the moment your poison began to pour

inflaming dissidents upon the points of union

as the immune armies go awry with twisting riposte

 

millions of lilliputian hooks, ties and ropes

fastened to every bone joint, muscle and tendon

pulled to stretch taunt against natural kinesis

the inflamed battles of attrition will become a pyrrhic war

won once the bugles of pain are at once – laid still

 

the eyes grow blank and darken into shade of hopes

the once athletic body spun; now locked into joints of mortise and tenon

a sculpture ravaged in silence; pondering the stillness

of the room that is without windows and a closed door

for strength fails the warrior’s will.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Evolving – Dissolving

His architectural pen sets

Our golden wedding wine goblets

 

Bobby’s baby foot imprints

Lizzie’s first mother’s day card with her hand prints

 

His old college sweaters

 All my secret love letters

 

The art room easel stand

Mother’s pearl strand

 

The library full of dad’s treasured books

My brother’s collection of pruning hooks

 

The kitchen red roaster clock

My old teenage diary with broken lock     

 

All of these will be sent apart

While my life sits with a weeping broken heart

 

Since time has chosen this fateful day

To take me away to some other stay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mother's Candelabra

Mother’s Candelabra

 

Mother’s blue cathedral a pinnacle place

 

 

(with sacred candelabras of yellow)

To ruminate upon time’s pace

As the notes scale the cello

Playing melancholia’s case

 

 

 

 

 

  

Not Drowning

The swimmer was drawn to the shoreline

 

Because being a wanderer was in her soul

 

And the lapping sound against the sands

 

Metered in her mind like a poetic line

 

That reached in deep - like surgeon’s hands

 

Ripping out her heart to make a hole;

 

As a mark of the place she must avoid

 

For within her doubts she could be destroyed

 

As she swam out further and further out to the sea

 

To find the depths that would be the last thing she would see.

 

 

 

They gathered and said, “It was swimming – not drowning.”

And of course, she had always known it would be a crowning.

 

 

 

 

 



Companion

Awakened in middle of night

To feed at the wells of endurance

 As throe’s insistence is undeniable

 

Awaiting the sun’s radiance

To warm the stern coldness

In the twisted structures

 

Locked still by the soreness

The rascal sits at the morning table

While the hot tea and poisons of chemistry relieve

 

 

Distressing dreams and thoughts that disable

The urgings of strength and power

From finding their destiny and eminence

 

 

 The companion refuses to leave the hour

Nor abide to any prayer for grace

As its pain is the water of the black flower.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being Inside the Outside

Being Inside the Outside

 

Whereas daylight’s grace might recognize

the trodden faces standing at the edge

along the uncertain path to perdition

the night’s cold embrace forbids any fiction

and rather punishing and unforgiving to foolish eyes

that dare walk out unto the darken outside

unprepared; hoping to find a hearth being inside

 the dwelling places that fate denies

or memory’s love lost  in lonely disguise.

No One Lives Here Anymore

No one lives here anymore.

Inside where darkness thrives

and the past will forever dwell

reflecting; grasping at static yore.

 

 

 

 

The present moment leaps forward

towards where the morning light strives

outside beyond the window’s tell

and change can be explored.

 

A State

A State

 

Vanity is to awareness

As banality is to kindness

Each a state of telling trait