Just a few poetic musings.
When I was a baby
I felt your sweet caress
I'd never heard of maybe
And knew not of distress
The warmth of you pervade me
Like a gentle lullaby
Of the hand that tried to save me
And wipe the tears I'd cry
Your autumn cooled my heartbeat
In smearing fading hue
And each white flake on snowy feet
Reminded me of you
But snow like lint must fall and fade
to bleed at rose's feet
and who can see the marvels made
when Persephone walks the street?
To shatter years of icy glass
Pierce infant snow with blades of grass
Bleeding winter's swaddling, green
And ripping blue from clouded seem
Until the pattern was a boy
Ravaged by his naked dream
Tossed by Eros like a toy
Living like a dying scream
Laboring in child birth
And bleeding in it's strife
Pushing hard for all he's worth
Then crowning him with life
But the crown I wear has blossomed thorn
And everyone I showed
Has raised me highest in their scorn
And nailed me to the crossroad
Ever standing in the strife
Of the path I wish to trod
Of living now or choosing life
In finding me or God
The book that tells us who he is
Was written by our hand
But that the words were our's or his
Is hard to understand
I feel promethean tissues came
When spring ransacked my soul
it walks the earth with my good name
and seeks to be made whole
all I wish to do is live
and be like mortal man
but I fear this wish God won't forgive
it's not part of his plan
trudge the earth in mortal skin
to find the place we can begin
to recompense the world our strife
and ask forgive for living life
when did Adam take this seed
and burry it in blood
to grow a man with any need
for blossoming in mud
can this chryasinthe become a tree
where golden apples hide?
or shall I simply crimson be
to mark the place I died?
Can I live unchained by word
Of script they wrote to free
Or shall my dream songs be unheard
that I may holy be
what I am I am and so
now what then shall I be?
Blessed and cursed to always know
I'm bound to be set free
Winter comes and always will
To greet me at the door
But when spring is at my windowsill
My heart is on the floor
The tissue of my heart is spent
Wiping little tears
That come from friends in deep lament
Of tempus' raining years
Knowing just enough to know
I'll always be confused
Coming just enough to go
'till every tissue's used
But life's not lived for answers
It's a quest of questions asked
And spreading like a cancer
Each one comes from each one's past
My question is "Can we survive
and truly be called one alive
if we seek to truly thrive
in a place where none may strive
to seek the living truth?"
For every truth that ever sung
Was sung from some imperfect tongue
That sprayed it's venom where it hung
And boxed the ears of all our young
Wounding every youth
How can it then ever be
To survive and be set free
Of the words washed over me
Like sour foam from off the sea
Salt for wounds as soothe
When my heart cannot deny
Some how the presence of an eye
Looming like a starry spy
To watch with hunger in the sky
With seeming thought and couth
Perhaps the secrets come with age
Years to settle youthful rage
To quiet the wrestling rustling page
of fitful crowded plays on stage
Distant director in a curtained booth
For two thousand years we all have fought
The war against our self and God
Of blinded faith and bitter thought
I stand in aw and think its odd
That this strange crusade might last forever
And every argument might never
Bring forth anything profound
Neither side gain any ground
And even God said long ago
in his curtained booth above
"that man himself will never know
so all I ask you do is love"
who, heaven bent, can even tell
what certain path may lead to hell
though they know and read The Word
who may say they really heard
all the secrets hidden there
how many truths they know are lie
how many of them really care
if what they speak cause men to die
but is that the whole or just a part
who can hear God's beating heart
yet I feel it beats with mine
and maybe just to feel is fine
for questions will always be with you
though answers may pass you by
and when you don't know what to do
why not give in to try
to do what you can understand
when the stupid world may shove
we all must do the things we can
for God, you see, is love
Don't populate the world with hate,
The ministry of men,
The ways of God uncomplicate
and too the ways of sin
for at least I feel a grasp to know
just what heaven sent
when a man spoke, even so,
of the greatest commandment
run from dens where scarring sleeps
leave the isle where inner weeps
</SPAN>and just today allow your heart
the room to say I'll try to start
to sooth the world of hurt with love
and find the strength to lift above
the length of space in pain we hide
to break away and look inside
find the courage to see so clear
past the things we feign and fear
then perhaps world of pain forgive
and finally know what it is to live
but this, though little time you've spent,
if you've learned but one thing of
the greatest commandment
is love, just love, is
love