Tag: writing

We see for thee

As the photographer
looks through his camera
at resplendent nature
we are the camera
and the photographer God
our eyes, our ears
our skin, our nose
these friends are the lens
transmitting shows
to a grateful God
or whatever you want
to call the thing,
the eye behind,
our being
watching what we see alone
our life a poem to the throne
a click, a shutter, a vision shown
the eyes of God
inside my earthly home

Change Delayed No More

We live in times
where reality is speeding up
and the people
are
still
stuck
in the muuuud
trying desperately to move! and change! with reality’s curves
but nothing moves
it can make you lose it
shaking, shocked with grief
hopeless yearning
When can
we overcome?
But here is my simple plan
The people filled with righteous fire
for justice!, equality!, liberty! all
Can bravely stand in comrades stead
And join and swing as a wrecking ball

Down the mountain

And suddenly the storm is gone
the smoke is cleared
the fire is out
But was it ever there?
I doubt it

I conjured up a fiery storm
so that I wouldn’t have to face
the awful, beautiful truth
of love
and death
and peace from gods

and so I know how it will go
I’m down from mountaintops
and feel so slow
I’ll miss this mess called Earth
so much
after hating all the drama’s
crunch
for two long score
it’s all so much

With tablets in my hands
I walk into the fire
I will not see the promised land
that’s fine because I’m tired

If you’re really saved, you’d know it

I don’t think they’re really saved
like they say they are

so now the curtain has to fall
on old men walking towards the cliff
and pastors with two silver eyes
are wailing on the dispossessed

oh Jesus has it all been lost?
and do you yet remember when
those gnostic heathens, beaten down
believed they knew the truth that day

but emperors with their happy hells,
a crucifix, and murdered youth
they made the popes and slayed the truth

and if you’re really saved, you’d know it
but then you wouldn’t need to go
yes if you’re really saved, you’d know it
and then you wouldn’t need to go

yes I don’t think they’re really saved
like they say they are

I alone

alone
      in the bath
  smoke slips up in rivers
dabbed
I recline
        BOMBS
nearby
    so high
and yet
the piano in my headphones
           Mr. Glass
is nice
   why does she hurt like this?
      an ache
         so raw
            that she doesn’t even see it

so back
to the bath
I go
            a dream
called
I
alone

Automatic writing 7/26/2020

I have peace in the storm
Fire doesn’t burn me
I cannot be dissolved
I can turn invisible
I can destroy demons as defense
The powers that be do not frighten me
I am bigger than the Pentagon

Death is not real
I have peace in the storm
We have peace in the storm
The heavy sinks down
The light floats up
Jupiter is all gas and is light
That’s why he rules the sky
To ascend you must go down first

House of Cards

Some strange miasma
creeps round through our institutions
looming, leering
leaching good
from inside out
The catabolic yin is in our bones
It’s trumped all fight
There goes the light
What’s weak is might
Send fair corona
to the king
Throw down the crown
so we can sing
America is dead
bring swiftness made of lead
to hit the posts
and free the ghosts
so we may build again

Revelation grey

We spend our days
in helpless rage
with pets and gazes
hanging on imagination
wishing for a place beyond the edge
where happy hugs and dancing
camp inside our sated hearts
Oh sky and Earth
our last resorts
I pray we now can leave the past
Walk forward over rubbled ruins
while masked to keep the others out
This now grey world
is our new home
but color will return again

Beyond the tape

She dreams of solace at the door
behind the tape that says
no more
no fighting with the devil now
just call four one
and one for wow
to see your screen go white
that’s all the outside light
we get
in quarantine

but only the flowers on her phone
called men and the dogs who want her bone
can smell the desperation in her sin
of venturing out
beyond the tape one night

she slipped up to an old stone stoop
and buzzed a buzzer busily saying
hey!
it’s me
the door unlocked
she slipped in like a fog

the virus that they don’t test for
is the most contagious one so far
two naked things in love somehow
beyond the tape, inside the now

Some drinks

Alcohol has always
fired me up
opened me up
given me up
the drinks I’ve drunk
the drunks I’ve loved
the feels I’ve felt
in alcohol

we think of words as so innate
even though they’re merely tools
4 thousand years ago they wrote
and forgot before the words were worn

But with a drink
it all goes smooth
I say
two beers before a show
but have one more
and fuck the fools
who don’t deserve
to know

alcohol brings my me out front
and some folks
don’t like
the out-front
show
and so I’ve learned to wear a mask
that I throw off at the twist or pop or
yes, please, another

The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art’s aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.