Prisoner of who I was or who I came to be.

Captive of the image that the other sees in me.

Struggling more than the American spirit in the effort to be free.

Finding what my soul would need to keep it orderly.

Lost within a ritual or not one there to find

As I journey too much round my body and my mind

Moving in a pilgrimage too bereft of grace

Speeding to an end unnatural, gone without a trace.

2012.05.29.0300 ©

ILLUSIONS

It does not take a whole lot

Of what my soul is not

To distort

The being who I am alone;

So I pray my God

To take

The visions and the sounds

Of the lies and the deceptions

I have known:

What has shone as light in what should be the darkness,

What has grown as habit where I should be free,

What has thrown itself to where I’d live as conscious

To become the stone that I would think as me.

2012.05.25.0100 ©

BROKE

Emptiness is silence.

It is darkness.

It is death.

It is finding who I am

Without the rhythm of my breath.

It is seeing more where I am now

Than where I was or went.

It is knowing I am not alone

And much more than how I’m spent.

2012.05.22.1200 ©

Every moment alone has a siren

That calls to the silence within,

Come leave what is precious enchantment, your soul.

Come run to unholy abandon.

Your Christ is a vision uncertain.

The senses are the only thing sure.

What world would enrich now your presence?

Which dream leave you orphaned and poor?

You know what is clear proper knowledge.

You’ve seen all the black and the white.

You have what you need and need dare not concede

To the testament of a flickering light.

Embrace what is clearly before you.

Bow down to that altar so bold.

Forget what you cannot approach without feeling

The magic of its wondrous hold.

The pain and the suffering will wait there

In the shadow of thousands of days

Where the present will beckon our homage

With the promise that our pleasure stays.

2012.01.08.1900 ©