Jubilant Song Cries
Tell A Vision
No
Air will make cowards of us all
The lure of the world will make us fall
A parent holds his lifeless daughter
She smiles from chemical joy
“The dogs will lie down with the wolves”
She peers at the highest pinnacle so far behind
The dead-salt-lake-sea
She fled her settlement and pressed westward for the golden goal
The Oscar prize, looking upward and backward, salt and clay
Her feet of salt iron clay
Sons and daughters from her womb
Some are chosen for their tomb
The rest rise up to press play
Dim the lights oh flickering frames
Frame the body from the cinematic cell
Film and freedom boast their flags
Of whitewashed bloody ocean rags
Hide beneath the crags and rocks
The worm in the tree will cry for treefall
Presents a bitter taste for the mourning seafaring tradesmen
Apes in cages!
The mind, green miles back, cast away, a gumpy forest gulf
Here evolves the next great city block buster
The tyrant from the park
Extinction is rewinded
Last Goodbye
Goodnight.
He stood away face blurred by the fire
I should have gone to be by him to talk about the wind or something
But I thought “I already taught him,” at the fire
I rested on my wisdom but knew of nothing else
He came back home for lunch, then grabbed a beer and left. He listened.
We went about our day and nighttime crept into the TV
My drowsy eyes dozed like nothing
A knock at the door
Goodbye.
Mary’s Trail
It has been a few years now, since I first walked Mary’s trail
Now there are fallen trees, where a small child’s backhoe sits
Mary could walk her trail no longer
So take a beer and think of her and think of him
As he lay
He watched me leave for Mary’s trail
He wondered why I went
I told him of its beauty, I promised it was worth it
He waited years to go there and didn’t understand
He would be led there one day, to rest beneath his tree.
Folly
Don’t wake me from my dream
For here I fly on Halloween’s reflection
I fly to distant caves to indulge
Caves of grandeur where I’m smart and attractive
Tomorrow I’ll skateboard down hot wheel tracks
And watch the world get peeled away as dust by God’s hand.
Dirty
Where has the time gone?
Traffic zooms like worms through apples
Stopping to turn at the sign of conviction
It’s hard work to pull out one’s wallet
My BMW cleanly coasts
I boast until evening
I have cleaned my home and said my prayers
Forget the monsters outside the window
They know not where I sleep
Parties with sparkly guests and glasses touch
We shall remain apart from dirt as one
I keep to the side of the street on my way back home
Half-drunk with pride
Wild images of sinful sanity become a trance
And I’m home
It’s quiet.
It’s clean.
Tomorrow I’ll make the world a little more like it.
Clean
My eyes appear as nothing
The bright day blurs for hope
Embarrassed, still drunk
I’ve spent my last again
I must find another half night’s rest. Anything helps
Starving worms eat their fruit
They know not what hunger is.
I stand aside, across the streets alone
The darkness of the day covers my old shoes
I have no headphones, no Netflix
I only read great stories of the skies and earth
Perhaps therein lies my sober sadness
More hopeful than the day
A hidden joy has crept from my ignorance
I’ve seen the face of fear and lived
I’ve seen men turn their eyes from me
Daily I must forgive
As many as the newfound stars
As many as their shiny cars.
Noodle Theory
Finish your dinner and you may have desert.
Just eat one.
More. Noodle.
Here is a quarter go buy desert
Noodles come in all shapes and sizes
They come in different colors
They taste great and are fun to eat
Always a good choice for kids
Some intertwine like a collection of vines
Some remain strait in their package
Some look like elbows or butterfly wings
And some are flat like the valleys.
For some, life began in a bowl of spaghetti
In tangled beds in blood red sauce
The origin of man’s questions twist and turn
Slurped up from the beginning
Unable to speak with a broken jaw
Wrongly accused by the weapon of the mighty pen
They can only tell the truth we do not want to find
Hard time is as hard as candy
Each child must obey her father
For fear of unforetold fate
Which begins at the choice that she makes.
Dinner is served, which will you choose
The pasta, or skip to desert?
There can be hazards found in either choice
In one there is strain, in one you’ll lose voice
Even if you choose against your own fate
And leave the last noodle, you still may find faith.
Up
Radiant above, settled peaks of storm and lightning
Where it clears in the day
Time stands outside the center, where one can see all
Even his own beginning
Down
Settled steps and sore knees drop about the scaly hill
The top of the mountain forgotten in sweat
Father’s last pages written in my book
Now I’m scared to look, lest I stumble
Another Perfect Day
Turn through the deep, lighter than clouds
Work up a sweat in the sunshine and cold
Found still in the mountain’s past
Where worry stays behind his tracks
Below the trees, laid to rest
The Sheep in the Curtain
God chose to close the curtain
Three lights flicker behind
Like a fireplace
The face of my father finds her
As my mother dreams with her eyes open
She calls me to see but I cannot
The good shepherd calls her
The sheep in the light
She calls me to see, but I am busy reading as before
So I decline, just like with Dad, that night by the fire
She always has me close the curtain
Or the electric candles bother her too much
They dance fiercely on the ceiling for hours
Creating pictures too fast to find with her eyes
I close the curtains to give her comfort
But sometimes she still sees and believes
One night soon she may be called
To heaven beyond the window pain
When what she said was true
And her son is left behind
The lonely sheep she saw in the night.
Laid Bare
Running from help
Or running for help
I couldn’t tell
I was always running from something
Or toward something
I knew not time
The trail of beautiful wounds turns where the wind blew
I find my way I know not where
The weight of rocks in my shoes slowed me down
Stomach still sick from the night
I thought of my words and their pain
It was enough to hurt once more
I knelt.
Worlds Away
Worlds away
Or across the street
Both are worlds away
A child fights for water
A child fights to fight
A child fights for life
A child fights for death
Where is there guidance?
Worlds Away
Or across the yard
Both words are away
A tree is loved or carved on
A child is beaten
A life is worshipped or forgotten
An award is given
Where is their guidance?
Words Away
Across the table
Both are worlds away.
A word is spoken for wars to begin
Or to cease
Seeking either laughter and agreement
Or a sword
We’ll wait for years, more or less
For guidance, whether foolish or wise.
Star Day
The star reveals its face at night
Then hides itself from mortal sight
It returns on its course
Another man sees its light
As dim becomes the daytime bright
The night basin pours
The star becomes lost to man
As he opens his eyes to work with his hands
Its memory fades
The day brings the toil of the land
The night hides in dreams the day’s secret plan
To rest in the shade
The star chases the day and is chased by the moon
As we chase the days, pursued by our tombs
Our words fill the sky
We can hide in our homes away in a room
Dirt of the day swept up by a broom
Hiding downcast eyes
At last the nights gone but at some distant star
There may still be a night, from brightness far
Its consistency found
Is it our dreams that bring war
And the nights that bring storms
Do we sleep in the ground?
Soda Pop
The American dream of bubbles fizzing
The true rags to riches story of Hollywood stars
Bubbling and fizzing to the top of the universe
We watch them, so thirsty we will buy a fifteen dollar soda
It fills our glass with a taste sweeter than honey
Addicted to soda pop culture
The music of cracking ice in an army of entertainment
Water is boring now, we long for something more
Oh arsenic base fuel our vanes
Replace these waters with ice cold coke
Man walks infused by sugar
The root beer of the new ages
The taste can never leave our mouths or we will be dry and thirst for more
Channels of the deep sugar cane, Willy Wonka’s magic rivers
Dive into the big gulf, praying to the red box
Seekers of pop sojourn to the westward expanse
Planting new gardens of fruit trees where flies gather and worms fester
Finding the best route through the apple-traffic-jam
Knowledge is in the apple of the eye of the beholder
The strange new Fanta seas, the morning mountain dew
A world of true living color finally emerges from the grey dreary dirt ground
The waters of bondage dammed
Now the freedom of sugar water flows to liberate
The cool school puts coke in its drinking fountain
The children turn to the dark long poetry of the ingredient labels
They know it by heart
The Sea
The turbulent sea foams and cracks over the bow of the ship
The watery grave of the multitudes, on which glimmers the beautiful day
Or is darkened by the storm that comes by night
It sprawls across the vast expanse, with no end
Blue and alluring, but beneath it lurk man’s suspicions and conspiracies
Circling in wait for their prey as the sea longs to overturn any ship which crosses
It has become saturated with black oil and mountains of floating garbage
The crystal blue folds beneath the trash of man
It becomes poison
The thriving corals attacked by the uncurbed appetite of America’s child
The ship’s rudder in danger of being stopped by grocery bags
The smell of the salt of the sea is no longer, for man’s achievements are its spices
This is the evolution of the sea, an advertisement
Television waves consume our beach front now
It is the plague by which we learn to defend what it destroys
For soon our waters will be cut off
The moon will refuse to call her love again
For the unfaithful sea has loved also the passion and junk food of man
And all the earth has been covered
By her lust and pressure
The ocean no more than an idea of man and the trap of his forward thought
The soda bottles remain afloat until time permits their sight no longer
Retirement is spent, fun no longer afforded
Yet we do not count our trash as loss
This little mountain of mine
Cleanse
Folded hands in Morning Prayer
Breathing in the still home air
Imagine light and holy place
Asking strangely forgotten grace
He cometh to the darkened minds
Against night of dreams they cannot find
Longing to free the troubled soul
That travels again to worlds that pull
The prayer is still as quiet breath
A held back thought is all that’s left
Sent to the farthest morning light
A whisper as close as hidden sight
The waters rage upon first glance
Stormy waves of past life’s chance
Drink the water that within you looms
Or let the seas become your tomb
Drown the past or it will drown you
Tearing the minds of a chosen few
The vicious beasts beyond the shore
Waiting just for one child more
The waters become the greatest fear
Yet the masses still draw near
They find in them their long lost love
Which was taken long ago by a flood
The Sleepy Poem
Time sleeps in his cold blanket
Trying to get warm, tossing through the night
Untold stories pass through his head
Too beautiful to tell in words
Tears stay trapped in his fearful dreams
Like short words drop on a page
Night calls lonesome Lee to the blue dawn
That wails somewhere on a distant sea
Steadily advancing towards the nations
Which must submit to the dominion of day and night
Oh impatient sleep, oh dreams of jarring death
Depart from my eyes of the past
Stars of crystal sand break beneath my stepping thought
The mind of subtle ages wants only to stand still
At the shore of the dawn
The waves breaking the sound of shifting music
And some forgotten wisdom writes a sleepy poem
Words of confident truth told with no fear of the day
Yet they disappear with doubt
The slow breath of imagination passes
Over the quiet lands
Nations roar within, mining the skies
No star is safe from man’s conquering reason
And his magnifying-computer-glass-veil
Which may split the Adam between the airwaves
Between the net, under our feet
Spread to catch the fool
So the drunken coward’s crowd the spectacle
Hoping to turn back the ticking hand
Searching through the books and bottles and tears of the past
For a story worth telling
The character hopes to travel from his twisted pages
To see his mangled polos in the storm of destruction
Only a few futile letters written toward a better ending
So there is no comprehensible story until the last period
Trial and Redemption
Airplanes and soupcans with tabs and tinfoil
They fly and crash and burn in Roswell
Where photographs shine like the moon
Waxing and waning so that we may walk and stumble in the dark
The dim moon a dim lamp to our feet, moonlit steps
Like a muddied reflection, spotted and awaiting windex
Spots added every day to our mirror as we brush our sinful teeth
Gazing into our own eyes and forgetting their color
Our eyes open and blink, we rub them with nothing in our hands
Throughout the day we fill them with money and smart phones
Setting them on our nightstands
If a thief comes we may be able to hide them just in time
We book flights and drive places in hope, looking past
The ruthless present, soon plans come and go
And we look past
This is man’s fortune, his objection, his trial and condemnation
His sentence and execution
Then all things are past and we appeal to the courts for one more flight
One more cup of soup
One more look in the mirror
One more day of work
But all is left behind
We looked past our hope in hope our past looked away
The moments leave like days leave, they fall and the tree is barren
Black and grey and white
They came and went and came and went again, forgotten and remembered
Marveled at in ignorant wonder like the generations
The Modern Ecclesial
There has been nothing that will not be again
There will be nothing that has not been before
All the days are repeated
The sun comes then goes and then returns on its course
Each generation rises from the ground and lives for a time
But they are not remembered
Nor are they honored
The living know only that they will die
The dead know nothing
The sun warms and there is laughter and joy
The moon cools and there is weeping and mourning
As one comes and goes so follows another
Nations rise and toil and build and destroy
Then all they strive for comes to nothing
The buildings crumble to dust, even the steel beams rot
The dead builders lie beneath the ground
They did not know their time had come
I look to the mountains in wonder
Their beauty eludes my understanding
They are too fast for my thoughts
My eyes see them for a moment
But my eyes must return to the ground
And to the work of my hands
I watch the sunlight to see it perish over the cliffs
It does not move in front of my sight
The sun stays in place
But when my eyes return to the ground
And to the work of my hands
The sunlight perishes, and the cliffs fade into darkness
So are the days of a man
They are not many
As we watch them they remain and do not move
But turn your back for a moment and they are gone
I have not found much in my days
Nor do I claim to understand the nature of things
But this I have seen
That the thoughts of man are futile
And there is much evil in his heart
I have seen this mostly in myself
Man tries to do many things and searches his fantasies
His desires and passions are reduced to ash at the end of his days
The fire is large for a time then is reduced to coals
The coals dance one last time and they are gone
It is good for a man to seek joy in his days
To work his land and kiss his wife
To drink his wine and eat his bread
To see the clouds and dream
Toe watch the ground and work
To ignore the sun and acknowledge it
To remember the dead and forget
To weep and to laugh
For all these things are needed for a man to pretend
That his days will not be forgotten
And that all he does will not come to an end.
New Fear
My old fear was no fear
My new fear is true fear
I once feared the darkness of the forest
The subtle passing of the days
The night’s end
The last beer
Rejection of a friend
Cooking and cleaning
The lion in the streets
The death I craved
To leave the present in the past
The future’s end
To be alone
To be with people
To run out of options to curb my cravings
What was “now”
What was “next”
Getting lost and being found
Knowing too little and knowing too much
Losing the game or losing a friend to the game
Losing control and having too much control
Running out of beer at a party
Running into you at a party
The nightmare and the alarm clock
Getting swept out to sea to drown
But mostly it was the age to come
I sometimes look over the fearful photographs
I remember death, held fast like a relic
A treasure only to use in utmost need of a friend
Or an enemy
The treasure of my past fears are no longer of any use to me
Only my new fears are
And when I collect more I will retire on them
And I will empty out my old treasure for another to look at and ponder
True currency is where a man’s fear lies
True fear is when a man’s heart lies
The Last Mountain
Climbing up the ranges and ridges
The sojourner feebly walks
Out of the biting darkness of the end of night
The cold presses up to his sweat
Black branches bend before him like grabbing hands
He struggles through the scraping thorns
The trail flooded, an overgrown ditch
This pain is different than when he looked out the window the night before
At the mountain he sought to climb
He longed for the joy of adventure
But now his body resented every step
Even as the dark began to disappear
And the sunken path turned from its surrounding plants
For they were challenging to push past
Eventually the trail opened up, cutting across the face of the summer hill
Small colors trickled into the sky and the leaves
The trail flattened somewhat and he turned back to see the ravine from which he came
He paused for a moment, forcing himself to appreciate the new beauty
But he forgot the sight and marveled at his newfound height
His heart beat hard and his legs threatened to shake
He considered for a moment returning downward toward his warm home and stove
He knew he was less than half way to the top of the peak, and he had yet to reach the first ridge
There was no place to sit and as he stood pain began to set in
Everything inside him wished to turn back
But he remembered the night before
When through the window he saw the peak, the last red sunshine warming its highest point
The thought of the climb had kept him awake till the early hours
He finally found some sleep before the memory of the peak opened his eyes once more
The thought of the winning disappointment of the night overwhelmed his pain and desire to turn back
Starting again, his eyes turned from the brief beauty back to his feet
That he may not stumble as he gazed around for too long at the new and passing sight of his progress
Forcing his steps until they were no longer forced.
***
The warming trail had left the bondage of the darkened willows
The sub canyon fell farther and farther below his steps
His path wounds across the belly of the mountain
Expecting a false peak, a ridgeline with open air
From there he could spot the rest of his trail
To see the close and closed distances
Peering from past to present
He stood upon the ridge
The first ridge
A small moment
Pain settled in his legs
He couldn’t take a long break
He tried to take the break along
Striding briskly upon mountainous bone
To the sign where the trail splits to choice again
Tattooed and forgotten aspens stand in place as one
The two trails turned upon the mountain’s side
One to ascend, one to lose the mountains memory
He paused for a moment to decide. It was the same distance
He pushed past the sign, somberly recalling his nighttime vow
He promised the night, and left home in the still dark where his trail began
Clay Castles
Fading colors dazzle
A fire of clay prompts molten ground to crash beneath
Juniper’s foot, scattered to no end
No end to the land
The castle wall span for miles, desolate Jerusalem
Curving into the waterless seas, the kingdom of dirt
Once a lonely man may have walked
Years and years ago
The light fades but the day will not end
Here there is only day
No night beneath the stars
I long to walk above it
To be where I am
To leave and to stay, the sojourning watcher
My feet carry me nowhere
A dim lonely star protrudes indifferent and watchful
I toil in the cool sun
I smile and wave to be alone
Looking for a friend
The desert can only pretend
Jet Blues
The urban wasteland brings
An airport pioneer
Hard hatted meditations
Under the natural orange
Where the wind blows or God will sweep away
Those with more as they drive,
I think, what tranquility
The spread of the land in its darkened beauty
Alien rocks and bushes planted on concrete soil
He built his airport temple
The assembly whizzes by in a simple multiplication
Layers of lawyers, investors, wayward sons
Prominent, illusive, deafened
Where I stand as one upraised
A snowplow
In a car
Noah’s Dilemma
A forced smile extracts
The hidden voice
The feared group I cannot join
Connected as a handshake, a like, a comment
Sleepless loyalty among the slumbering
Where kings are seen as sheep
A crown of blessings crest the hand of the self-righteous
For what makes them wicked
Foolish perhaps, but wicked?
I change every two weeks
They flock together
I am as separate as my thoughts in night and day
Turned by my tightly reigning tongue
For fear of curses
We are painfully shallow
I have not unwrapped my gift, I play dumb
The mountains taunt me with their hidden luster
I go to seek gold but find only dust
Drawing maps from memory
For the days are a fleeting thought
Bent Boughs
I push forward, from home to home
The wind and snow so dense I breathe it in
I move from task to task
I hold many things from room to room
My eyes see only what is immediate, the storm covers all else
Light reappears
The sun shines once more
Looking to leave behind a trail in the snow
But it will fill again tomorrow
They say it will pass
As if knowing the future
My true naïve hope is in the challenge and suffering of the day
A pinch of the flesh
“Do not push past pain”
Sky Google
The light seemed more vivid than other days
The colors separated and translucent
Spinning through the air, we relaxed
Speaking of the depth of the morning’s breakfast, deciphering euphoria
Reaching for memories to compare
But there was only now knowing contentment in the moment
Moments passed, forever never last
I thought I’d peer into tomorrow
But I cannot only time travel by words and silence
I can only guess when between the screen lies
The place where faces know not mine
I laugh and never cry
The answer’s staring at you
You need only search it out all of your days
Left
The words came through in slow sudden singing
Or intelligible utterances of forgotten poets
Soft as a half warmed pillow
Drawn in adoration
Disregarding the pull of fear
He restlessly sinks over to find here. Wright swing. Downcast eyes
Where the echo of speech envisions the shadow of her laughter
Memories find their ways through forgotten bushy paths
There are subtleties too piercing for humor
Even in the fog’s distant and unforeseen glory
Its youthful silence ignored
The Law
If
The sun rises
And you open your eyes
Take your first breath
Your power’s on
Your bills are paid
Your car starts
Your legs work
You have your eyesight
Your heart keeps beating
Your company’s still in business
The world still rotates
The sun still rises
Water comes out of your faucet
Your bowels still work
The stock market’s going up
Your house doesn’t fall apart
Your dishwasher works
There’s no earthquakes
You take your pain pills
Your arms aren’t broken
You have your quiet time
Your friends are there for you
Your family’s in good health
Your wardrobe works well
You have internet and cell service
Your coffee machine works
There’s beer in the fridge for tonight
People don’t laugh at you
You can keep up in conversation
You are happy
You are cool
People respect you
You get to work out
Your spouse does everything right
Your children obey you
And don’t make mistakes
You can watch your favorite T.V. program
You get to be outside
Everyone likes your opinion
God stays over in his convenient corner
Your house is neat and tidy
You brush your teeth twice a day and wear deodorant
You eat three meals
You have your soda and candy
You can get drunk on weekends
You can make love when and wher you’d like
Nobody pisses you off
Nobody makes a mistake
Nobody notices your mistake
Then
I will be at peace
I will be able to laugh
I will experience happiness
I will never be sad
I will love others
I will love myself
My dreams will come true
The sun will set on all things that were as they ought to be.
God is Near
God is near to the broken hearted
He lifts up the downcast
He calls for us to rise
And defend the reputation of his name
Enemies rise against us and fall
As waves come up an break upon a wall
There Christ stands strong
His cross an anchor in the deep
He will keep us at his side
He will give those who know him refuge
All others will be struck by confusion
They will look upon the ground and search for food
Answers they will not find
Anxiety and perplexity grip the godless
They grasp fro strands of straw
The fire of the world burns them
Nothing quenches their thirst
Their eyes are fixed upon the wives of men
Strong drink is there to greet them in the morning
Thoughts of the holy one enrage them
They laugh and scoff at the mention of his name
Their eyes are closed to the sick
Their ears to the cry of the poor
The righteous cry out “how long, oh lord will your named be mocked on the earth?”
How long will fools influence the world
How long will fools influence the world
How long will hatred and enmity drive the sons of men
But God, you will redeem your people
You will hold their lives in your hand
You will exalt your holy one
All will bow at his name
Let your spirit be upon the children
That they may hold fast to your Word
And that they would obey you all the days of their lives
Forever and ever, that death may not over take them
For the sake of the Son
Voices of the Dawn
In the west stood a lonely gleam
That seemed to show the farthest seas
In the east another dark lit star
Uttering words and worlds both near and far
I walked and spoke, eating my daily bread
Beneath my feet echoes crunches of the dead
The air I breathe is light as the deceitfulness of sin
The restless night was heavy, my eyes grew dim
I spot a light past the farthest shore
A smiling shimmer of a ship that was no more
I wonder why it gleamed so fast
Storm traces fastened on its mast
Yes it sailed in to rest the crew
All sons in their forgotten youth
Or perhaps a dim lit ghostly lie
Tricking the corner of my eye
The dawn still shows the star was there
Heaviness rests upon the air
I long to hear a dusty word
A trailing voice less often heard
The shells still echo in the sand
Untold stories from foreign lands
Shells whispered once to ancient seas
Perhaps she heard their quiet pleas
The star fades out, the gleam expands
A word is hidden within these sands
I long to speak a word to God
I must return
I cannot
Rent
There was a man who told me he had a word to say
He handed me an old note and went upon his way
My feet cold in the moonlit water disappeared
The pebble brook was slippery as the trickle of warm tears
My arm became so heavy with the past within my hands
I prayed my footing steady as I crept back toward the sands
I heard a little laughter on the river’s other side
Perhaps I’d go there after where the lonely fairies hide
The still air dawned warm breath so cold seeking where she lies
The passions of yesterday grew old and crusted over my eyes
My hope still clutched white ashes far beneath a hidden word
And behind the old flames dances stood everything I’d learned
The October trees stood barren leaves crushed and blown away
Last month they were apparent, their colors wept throughout the days
“Come sweet child, move on with us, we’re going to the wind
We know you see us now. Trust each day will meet its end”