Thursday, March 31, 2016

The Most Dangerous Man in America
















he was a man of undeniable courage,
but what did he really prove?
that governments lie,
that politicians care more about
political careers than truth,
that men in power use that power,
to satisfy personal agendas,
that most are more afraid of losing their jobs,
than doing what is right,
all he really did,
was expose what everybody already knew;
they just prefer not to talk about it;
has anything really changed?
young soldiers still die,
on far-away, foreign soil,
in wars that have nothing to do with
freedom or democracy,
as trusted allies slaughter peaceful protesters,
in an attempt to hold on to corrupt monarchies
and dictatorships,
wars we can never win,
just a matter of waiting it out,
eventually we will have to leave,
they know that;
just like the Viet Cong knew;
back home, the silent majority pays lip service,
to all our Iraqi and Afghani war heroes,
hearing about two more killed by a roadside bomb,
as they channel surf on their 32” HD televisions,
shaking their heads and thinking;
‘what a shame, so young too;’
filling up gas tanks for weekend trips to the beach,
wondering what kind of beer to buy,
what the weather is going to be like;
how much higher are these damn gas prices
going to go up?
.

.

The Bearded Man


























Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest and repent. Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.   Revelation 3:19-20
I dream of far away places,
sitting in the sun,
blue skies and bright clouds,
floating softly overhead,
birds singing sweetly,
mighty rivers flowing
gently by;
then;
the dying monster
reaches out.
dragging me back down
into his pit;
he does not want
to die alone;
smiling,
he stares serenely into my eyes,
then pats my head,
like the obedient dog
that I am;
“you have come far my jaded son,
walk with me just a little while longer,
and to you shall I give everything,
in all its dark and blackened
glory”;
and if you listen hard,
you can hear the buzzing
of ten billion ravenous flies,
coming to feast on all that is
or ever will be;
“the earth shall be rid of flesh,
freeing our rotting souls,
from these prison walls
forever”



the bearded man
paid a visit last night,
silently staring into the future,
he never said a word,
but the stench hanging in the air,
smelled of fear
and death;

I awoke
in a pool
of sweat
and terror
.

.

Infection


























Jesus looked directly at them and asked. “Then what is the meaning of that which is written: ‘The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone?’ Everyone who falls on that stone will be broken to pieces, but he on whom it falls will be crushed.”   Luke 20:17-18
From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life. Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. “Never, Lord!” he said. “This shall never happen to you!”
Jesus turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men.” Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?”  Matthew 16:21-26
“To face what we are in the end, we stand before the light
and our true nature is revealed. Self-revelation is annihilation of self.”
Kathleen Conklin – ‘The Addiction’
we all stand afflicted,
hopelessly addicted,
ravaged and abused,
scourged and inflicted;
infected by the disease;
we choose this road,
because that is who we are,
what we have become,
there simply is no other choice,
no other path;
a leopard cannot change
its spots,
nor can a flea become
a dog;
hopelessly addicted,
infected by the disease;
self-induced delusions,
self-abused illusions,
self-taught dreams,
self-righteous justification;
hopelessly addicted,
infected by the disease.
.

.

Discernment


























“If you want to be happy, do not pray for discernment.” – A. W. Tozer
“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned.  If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.”   John 15:5-7
it’s not easy seeing things
others do not,
seeing past the surface,
past the smoke screens,
past the phoniness,
past the lies;
seeing the hypocrisy,
the hidden agendas,
the self-seeking motives,
the falseness,
you begin to see people
in a different light,
you begin to see them for
what they really are;
you see it in others,
you see it in yourself;
it is like talking
to dead bones,
being surrounded by
living corpses,
remaining silent,
even though you want
to scream,
knowing it wouldn’t
change anything,
even if you did;
it is not judgment,
it is not condemnation,
it is a deep, quiet
sadness,
an unspeakable burden,
because you know that
you are just as guilty,
just as undeserving,
just as despicable,
just as failed;
you realize just
how opaque
and pervasive evil
really is,
appearing as an angel
of light,
infiltrating into cracks
and shadows,
you understand just how
manipulative and devious
the enemy truly is;
You are the Vine,
we are the branches,
without You we can do nothing,
through You we can do all things.
.

.

Today Will Have To Wait


















I started to get dressed,
instead, all I could do
was lay back down;
today will have to wait;
that is how it is,
when the clock runs down,
yet it continues to move,
so there is still hope;
on television,
angry crowds protest,
screaming words of hate
at little children,
staring out of a bus window,
wondering what they have
done wrong,
to be the objects of
such maniacal wrath,
when the truth is,
they have done nothing,
except be born,
in a world where might
makes right,
and wealth demands privilege;
the mob stands firm,
in their position of moral
and political correction,
their comments,
their words,
their agendas,
their motives,
their ulterior objectives,
their over the top protests,
silently gives them away;
in it all,
there is fear,
in it all is self-preservation,
in it all is greed;
I no longer participate
in this self-illusion,
this mockery,
this secret subterfuge,
this moral dilemma,
it is what it is,
nothing can change it,
nothing can undo it,
darkness knows not mercy,
evil has it’s day;
good people,
blinded by hate,
drowning in the cesspool
of their own self-righteousness;
today will have to wait.
.

.

Nothing Can Ever Be The Same
















the rain comes at last,
the storm has been brewing for days,
for weeks,
for months,
for years;
for a lifetime;
change come like lightning,
new creatures, emerging
from under the spotlight of
iniquity and anonymity,
the metamorphosis complete,
the way back closed forever,
the way ahead;
lost in the melodrama;
down in these sewer pits,
drunken monkeys rant and rave,
rampaging through the
dark, eternal night,
precious time lost,
valuable energy spent;
gone forever;
words?
Rimbaud had words,
Morrison had words,
Bukowski had words,
I have words;
I have no need for theirs;
I observe them like a disease,
just a glance here,
a taste there,
carefully preventing infection,
swallowing the antidote,
puking up the symptoms;
now,
nothing can ever be the same.
.

.

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Time For a Change


















I have traveled down this path
too long, it’s time for a change,
I have played this game
for pennies, lived within these ancient
walls forever;
it’s time for a change;
nothing will ever be the same,
no matter what the cure,
no matter what the cause,
no matter what the cost;
it’s time for a change;
time moves on,
the hardest part has never
been living,
the hardest part has never
been dying,
the hardest part has been
doing neither;
words say this,
words mean that,
words have come,
words will go;
it’s time for a change;
this world was never yours,
no matter how hard you tried,
the future will never be the same,
no matter how well you hide;
there is a foreign refuge here,
false and unobtainable,
it lies just beyond reach,
it travels without destination;
it is the only home
you have ever known;
it’s time for a change.
.

.


Ours to Choose




















“Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat down on them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; he will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” Revelation 7:16-17
We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. Isaiah 53:6
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:12
I have found a home here,
for good or for bad,
for better or for worse,
it may not be much,
but it is mine;
I sit on my porch,
I feel the warm sun
on my face,
I look at the mountains,
I listen to the crows;
this is my home now;
it’s all there is,
it’s all I need,
it’s all there ever
will be;
I do not know how
much longer it will last,
it is beyond my control,
it is out of my hands,
but I will rest here,
for as long as I can;
I am tired of who is right,
who is wrong,
choosing sides,
blaming one,
justifying another;
we are all wrong,
we are all to blame;
you,
me,
them,
‘those people;’
we are all liars,
murderers,
thieves,
cheats,
hypocrites;
it is in our blood,
it is our dna,
it is who we are,
it is what we will be;
we are all
something less;
there is no wrong side,
no right side,
there is only self-righteousness
and arrogance,
or mercy and grace,
our will,
or God’s will;
it is for us to choose;
now there is weeping,
now there is anger,
now there is fear,
but soon enough it will be
no more,
the shadows will fade,
the misery will no longer exist,
the sadness will turn to joy,
the darkness into light,
the tears will all be
wiped away;

we will be home at last.
.

.

At Last
















green, majestic ridges,
rolling lazily, across
bright, blue skies,
too beautiful,
too wonderful;
a place only
dreamed about;
it is here,
where the road ends,
and tomorrow begins,
no more uncertainty,
no more empty future,
the final home,
the last stand;
freedom,
at last;
they have taken
all there is to take,
the last hope,
the final drop,
nothing more to give,
nothing left to lose;
freedom,
at last;
together, we shall face
the approaching night,
together, we shall walk into
the growing light;
freedom,
at last.
.
.

Experienced


























I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.   Philippians 4:12-13
have you ever been experienced? – Jimi Hendrix
the overwhelming hunger fades, the cruel,
dark night disappears, rolling like a soft, ocean wave,
into far off, distant shores, gone forever;
all your life, searching, wandering, waiting,
a prisoner of fear, a slave to desires, without fulfillment,
without satisfaction, without destination,
released by the Master, pardoned by the King;
set free by the truth;
nothing more to prove, nothing more to obtain,
the evening train awaits, the light shines bright ahead,
the dawn breaks clear, the battle already won,
the path leads to home;
I am ready.
.

.

Monday, March 28, 2016

Pain In The Ass




















my 4 year old grandson,
is a little pain in the ass,
always looking for new ways
to get in trouble,
always wanting to do
exactly that,
which you don’t want him to do,
he spent a week and a half with us,
down at the shore,
the day his mom took him home,
I bought him a Franklin doll
and a bag of candy,
he tore the hat off Franklin,
and when I tried to hug him goodbye,
he hit me in the mouth with the bag of candy;
now it’s real peaceful and quiet;
I sure do miss that little pain in the ass.
.

.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

In The Morning





















On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: ‘The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’ ” Then they remembered his words.   Luke 24:1-8
in the morning,
I remember a simpler time,
a sweeter life,
warm Florida mornings,
air so pure, you could taste
the promise with every breath;
but none of it compares
with You;
who can speak of Your
wondrous glory and light?
what words can describe
the magnitude of Your
mercy and grace?
what sounds may be uttered,
that reflect the majesty
of Your perfect love?
rain Your spirit down on me,
open my mind and eyes,
illuminate my soul,
let me find the words which
glorify Your holy name;
lead me when I am blind,
remind me when I forget,
show me that without You,
I am lost;
without You,
I can do nothing at all;
restore the joy,
remove the darkness,
heal the damage,
open my eyes,
fill me with Your love,
let me shine with Your light;
bring me home
to You.
.

.

Friday, March 25, 2016

Yeshua














Two other men, both criminals, were also led out with him to be executed. When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him there, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left. Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided up his clothes by casting lots.   Luke 23:32-34
what words have I,
that pay honor to a King?
what gift can be given,
worthy of His name?
He who overcame,
He who defeated death forever,
He who reigns eternally,
He who is our master;
mocked and mistreated,
spit upon and reviled,
beaten and scourged,
led like a lamb to the slaughter,
sacrificed upon a tree for our
iniquities and transgressions,
resurrected from the grave,
that through faith in Him,
none should perish,
but all might have life;
through Him are all things possible,
through Him are all things made new,
to Him does all praise belong,
to Him is all glory given,
lift up His name before all others;
Yeshua,
the Holy One of God.
.
.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Push Buttons



















sports, sex and food,
those are about the only things in life
that have ever really interested me,
and I’ve only been good at two of those,
well okay,
I used to be good at two,
now,
I only do one well;
technology?
bores the shit out of me,
and on top of that,
I don’t really understand it,
yet somehow,
here I am,
a highly trained technician,
in a highly technical field,
pushing buttons,
watching red and green lights,
go on and off,
thinking about the leftover steak
in the refrigerator,
the secretary with the nice ass,
how my daughter can improve her
basketball game;
sometimes I imagine life,
living in a stone cottage,
overlooking the ocean,
on the western coast of Ireland,
writing whatever comes to mind,
all day long,
then walking into the village at night,
to drink a few pints,
tell a few lies,
then stumble home,
crawling in bed with a good woman,
big and soft,
who moves with passion,
moaning wildly out of control,
and keeps the house clean;
excuse me,
I gotta push a button.
.

.

Hiding Within Plain Sight






















they have become mesmerized
with the violence,
conditioned by the lies;
without feeling,
without joy;
without soul;
I remain silent,
because that is what
I choose;
words never mattered
anyway;
I could not save you;
you were too far gone,
too far along,
too far away;
from a dream,
I reach for you,
but you’re not there,
I call out your name,
but you do not hear,
replacing one,
without the other,
such an impossible task;
even now,
I hear your voice,
even now,
I see your face,
even now,
I taste your skin;
a new day dawns,
old memories fade;
no return,
no mercy,
no hanging on;
forgotten memories and
empty futures,
travel down lost
and lonesome paths,
on their way to hidden
valleys,
where even the sun
does not speak;
I am tired of giving
pearls to dogs,
wisdom to swine,
tired of voices that only
know how to speak,
but have never learned
how to listen;
your judgment makes you smaller,
your expressions and excuses,
nothing more than meaningless drivel,
dead-end streets,
you use the cracks and crevices of
distant shores like common
knowledge;
platitudes and artistic differences
only go so far,
sooner or later choices
must be made;
eventually it becomes real,
eventually it slips away;
everything you know,
everything you are,
everything you ever were;
just fading vapor,
dispersing with the wind;
the higher you go,
the farther you fall,
the faster you run,
the bigger the crash.
.

.

Writer's Block





















they rise up,
like diamonds in a
dream,
begging to be taken,
waiting to be used,
screaming for recognition,
then poof,
they are gone;
never to return;
it’s always something,
time to eat,
music’s too loud,
football on television,
stomach hurts,
leg hurts,
too tired,
the dog needs to go
outside,
the groceries need to
be shopped for,
it’s always something,
but;
they’re really not interested
in your excuses;
cold little monsters,
killers on steroids,
no compassion,
no mercy,
ice water running
through their veins,
scumbags,
rapists,
torturers of animals,
mass murderers,
calculated doses of
instant poison;
they deserve
everything they get;
it’s easier this way,
nobody to blame,
nobody to pin
the rap on,
nobody to take the fall,
no one pointing fingers;
no one getting any
credit;
one of these days,
I’m gonna set up an ambush,
lie in wait,
as they pop out
from their greasy little
hiding places,
then, BAM!
got ya,
you little assholes,
you greedy, stinking whores,
no more havoc for you,
no more of your
pathetic shenanigans,
no more sticking it
in my face,
no more carrots
on a stick;
yeah that’s what I’m
gonna do;
just as soon as this movie
is over.
.

.

An Excuse



























America loves war;
it is our passion,
the foundation
upon which we were built,
the rock on which we stand,
little boys play two things
growing up in America;
sports and army;
every great American hero
was a war hero,
our entire culture,
everything we are,
is built upon war and the
principles of war,
the revolution,
the civil war,
the world wars;
think about it;
don’t be fooled by the
soft living,
the generosity,
the pursuit of fun and pleasure,
to understand America,
you must understand one thing;
America loves war;
it is our passion,
our foundation,
our pastime;
so the next time
you want to fly airplanes
into our buildings,
behead our citizens,
blow up and kill innocent lives,
ask yourself one question;
do you really want to give us an excuse?
.

.

Saturday, March 19, 2016

Kathleen











the laughter rings in my ears,
the silence covers the night,
like a worn out lover,
inviting everything into its domain,
like flies, in the spider’s web;
echoes of the past,
banging into the walls of my mind,
who am I? how did I get here?
I remember a road,
on a dark starless night,
I remember your laughter,
I remember your scream,
I recall everything,
which means nothing;
ah Kathleen,
your hair was like silk,
you smelled of springtime flowers,
we were young,
we were lovers,
we were soul mates,
we traveled the road to Dublin,
then you were gone,
I searched for you in the meadow,
but you were not there,
I screamed out your name,
but received no reply;
oh my Kathleen,
where have you gone?
time has no hold on our love,
our love was greater than time,
it was greater than life,
our love was endless,
timeless;
even death cannot keep me from you;
remember the moon?
we watched it rise,
you saw the fairies,
and called them out by name,
we danced till the new day sun
came out;
Kathleen,
where have you gone?
.

.

sighs

















for a moment,
I remembered the magic,
the sheer exhilaration
of life itself,
it was the music,
it was the air,
it was the anticipation,
of things no longer there,
the world was young,
dark and mysterious,
the phantom night,
was waiting
to swallow fantasies and fools,
and Colorado
was a million miles away,
lost in dreams,
and endless lover’s sighs;


……. oh how I cried for you.

Story Books


























it’s been a long time,
a lot of changes in-between,
so many worn out words,
that we really didn’t mean,
there’s been many others,
some that I love more,
but I never quit hoping,
someday you’d come knocking
on my door;
many might say,
I’m not the person I once used to be,
but I am who I always was,
just the person no one could ever see,
sometimes I think of how things
might have been,
but we never could’ve gone very far,
you travel the roads of this world,
while I was born to ride a star,
and for now you may laugh,
at words you don’t understand,
but in time will be revealed,
the rock that lies beneath this sand,
think of me then and know,
that if I could, our lives would be changed,
but like actors up on a stage,
the roles we play,
were already pre-arranged;
you and I were nothing but storybooks,
from which the other could learn,
going our separate ways,
when there were no more pages
left to turn.
.

.

Scars


















things are never what they seem,
something I once heard said,
life is just a mask,
which you can change but never shed;
time brought us here now,
time will take us away,
today the words come easy,
tomorrow there’ll be nothing left to say;
if I said I love you,
would it make a difference in the end?
that which it would cost,
is more than I have to spend;
the scars are still fresh,
and they run so very deep,
from trying to hold on to that,
which was never mine to keep.
.

.

W.B.



























welcome old friend,
come in from the cold,
rest awhile;
I recognize your voice,
it is one I have heard
many times before,
the accent
was a little different
then,
from what it is now,
but still,
it is the same;
we have talked often,
you and I,
during that soft
and painful transition,
as I tried to hold on
to the dark and dying night,
and you patiently waited
for the pale morning dawn,
you must tell me old friend,
have you found that precious
light of a new day,
for which you waited
and searched
for so long?
ah well;
nor could I
hang onto the darkness,
but what difference does it make?
it is in the trying
that matters most,
you and I,
were never born
to live in the black
or the white;
it is the cracks in between,
where we belong.
.

.

Consumption


















I am slowly being consumed,
dying a little bit more
everyday;
anger,
bitterness,
hatred,
darkness;
as I wonder
who is listening,
and who is only
pretending;
I have nothing left to say,
everything has been said,
I cannot make people listen,
I have done all I can do,
on my own I can do nothing,
nothing at all;
the past moves on,
quietly becoming no more;
the misery,
the suffering,
the struggling;
everything changes,
everything fades;
even this;
they watch from afar,
waiting for the destruction,
carried on by the wind,
glowing with the anticipation;
there is no beginning,
there is no return;
farther along,
somewhere down the line,
deeper into the divide,
shattered by the consumption,
confusion spreads it’s mighty tongue,
buried deep within the confines
of this burned out refuge,
where even the echoes
become silent,
these lines to nowhere,
these forgotten denizens;
when do you fall?
I have come to a crossroad,
I can no longer find goodness
in people,
I see only hidden agendas,
greed,
self-righteousness;
we are all failed,
we are all ravenous dogs,
we are all hypocrites;
all our noble deeds,
all our false concerns,
simply a show
to make us feel
good about ourselves;
in You I cling to one last hope,
in You I still see the potential,
in You I have been redeemed.
.

.

waiting




with a song it begins,
this incredible sadness,
this bittersweet goodbye,
no matter how far you run,
it always comes back to here;
for everything there is a cost,
for everything there is a loss;
trapped within this wreckage,
hidden among the fading mist,
a price to be paid,
an unanswered question,
an unfulfilled answer;
a beacon for the terminally lost;
this morning,
for the first time in
a long time,
I woke up afraid;
there is an evil lurking here,
floating just below the surface,
an unspoken shadow,
waiting to envelope everything
in its path,
an unseen whisper,
touching depths unknown.
.

.

Dark Night No More




















dark night no more,
suffering and pain forever gone,
Your precious light shines upon my face,
the road ahead becomes clear;
a new day begins to dawn;
hold me in Your arms,
pour out Your mercy and grace,
soothe the raging storms,
silence the savage screams,
save me from the fate I so richly deserve;
there is only truth,
there is only peace,
there is only love,
there is only You;
there is nothing more I need;
You have defeated the darkness,
You have conquered the fear,
You have restored the life,
You have returned the hope,
You have raised me from the deep.
forgive my foolish ways,
remove my haughty pride,
humble my stubborn heart,
show me how to live;
make me like You;
be real within my heart,
mold my desires around Your will,
teach me as a father teaches a son,
speak inside my soul,
change my ways;
shield me with Your love,
walk with me through the shadows,
protect me from the night,
be with me wherever I go;
for all my days
I will trust in You.
.

.

Life





















in the morning,
before the doubt,
before the poison,
anything is possible,
the world is bright and new,
fresh and alive,
but then like the morning
it is gone,
as reality sets in;
I wait outside her domain
like a dog in heat,
I listen to her voice
pounding within,
like ocean waves
on a dark angry night,
she holds me in arms
of shifting winds,
without shape or form;
life is full of wasted time,
wide open spaces and moments,
in between the only ones that count,
long drawn out hours of insufferable
boredom,
highlighted by seconds of indescribable
pleasure;
life is a never ending orgasm,
working and struggling,
building and rising,
working for just one
short burst,
one quick release;
I want a place to hide,
a shelter from the storm,
safety in the wilderness,
a home within the night;.
what words can be said for this?
what salvation, what mercy,
what redemption?
.

.

and end to the end


























chasing down dreams,
one-way, dead-end streets,
the moments come and go,
cool autumn nights wait forever,
like distant winter storms poised
to pour liquid electricity
into endless teenage skies,
back seats and pre-game rituals,
followed by post-game letdowns,
fade into the oblivion of lost moments,
as life-changing, earth shattering decisions,
mean very little inside vast
kingdoms of empty space,
where nothing comes
and nothing goes;
I have sunk to the depths,
I have been to the heights;
flow is the key,
you can lose your momentum,
but never lose your flow;
invisible chains fall like leaves
before the gathering storm,
there is a death of which
no one knows,
somber days lie ahead,
for every beginning there is an end,
for every ending there is an end;
for everything there is an end;
in life there are only so many;
so many days,
so many years,
so many thoughts,
so many words,
they slip through our fingers
like water running to the sea,
we forget more than we can ever know;
for everything there is an end.
.

.

Frenzy





















the storm clouds gather,
rising on the distant horizon;
this new place,
this other reality,
this far off land where
nightfall never ends;
what is left?
what more can be said?
does no one listen?
does no one hear?
does the madness never end?
today I would have given
you everything,
yet nothing is all you took,
tomorrow’s troubles
brings fresh sorrows
all their own,
as freshly killed bodies,
float like chum on the surface,
devoured by ravenous lizards,
frantically joining in the
morning frenzy;
I wish it were not so;
this life is no life,
it changes and rearranges,
ebbing and flowing,
never coming to completion,
creations of a creator,
children of light
trapped within the darkness,
temporary, transient
and conciliatory,
blinded to the truth hidden
before our eyes;
the great illusion
we choose to believe;
deceiving and being deceived,
wounding and being wounded,
hurting and being hurt,
feeding off the leftovers,
running for the scraps;
hiding within the cracks.
.

.

the hunger














the hunger gnaws;
this sickness,
this disease;
quickly trying
to catch the night,
before it flees
back from whence
it came;
far off,
the lightning flashes,
the thunder rumbles,
shadows quietly slip away,
memories return like
messengers from the deep,
sending lesser men
packing;
then it is done,
as if it never
happened at all;
there are places
in this life,
where no man goes,
hidden valleys
and lonesome ridges,
far beyond imagination
and dreams,
it is here that refuge is found,
a haven among the lost,
a resting place
within the storm;
out here, there are no promises,
no guarantees;
only silent desperation
and stolen expectations.
.

.

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