Category Archives: Passion

Imprecise Recall

As the once closed curtain of time
Falls open, by accident, down the center
Like your lover’s blouse
Inadvertently untethered,
I stare indecently
At moments unmeasured
Illuminated by the soft glow
Of the forgotten
Or forsaken

Or forbidden.

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Past Able

The unbearable weight of sadness
From the depths of humanity torn,
Where a wound to any is a wound to all,
And the blood cries out from the ground
Pooling in accumulated tragedy,
An affront to all intent of design,
And the blood and loss and anguish must be heard,

And it will be heard.


On Calling Out and Crawling Off

I measure these frailties
Against the scale
Of Your majesty:
My fears are a travesty.

An accumulation of tragedies
Becomes a bag of excuses,
A candy jar of delusions
Dampening the effusive,

Dwelling in exclusions.
The conclusion to trust
Won’t make it so, but
Baby steps make forward thrusts

In my guts
I believe and I resist
I escape and I enlist
I surrender, I sulk, I subsist

I speak and, sometimes, I listen.
Protect me in my frailties, and even in my sin,
Guard what even I can’t defend,
For You are The God, and my friend.


Resurrection Serenade

She sent me her soul,
Her song, and I sing it
In the dark I linger
Ancient sparks flowing

Lost years crooning
The vibrato rythyms we all
Tapped out on our prison walls
Our stretched voices in tune

Sing.
Sing these lost years,
Like velvet green leaves
Ripped from spring trees
The storms appear,
And we dissipate, but

We do not disappear.
We suffer loss, yes, and torn limbs,
But we live again, and
Our song is here.


Implausible Deniability

All my life I’ve heard
Who I ought to be,
What I must deserve,
And how I should believe

And believe, I do
From the core of who I am
Whatever facets I eschew
Change not the slightest gram

Of the rock that won’t erode,
And the hand that can’t release-
I know that I know that I know;
I believe what I believe.

Then why don’t I conform?
This I cannot say.
The world, to me, feels worn-
And an infantile display

Of youthful promenading
Feathers flaunting wide
Perpetual self-serenading:
A ballad of blinded pride.

I don’t have the energy,
Nor the desire,
To bow to pop-liturgy
Or lift myself higher-

All my oddities abound,
I see they keep me alone.
I wander the hard ground
Ever out of home-

Even these I speak of plainly
I do not dream as accusation
The lone state that pains me
Is of my own creation

Unwilling, or else unable,
To put aside where I am bent-
I don’t fit into the label-
Does that mean I can’t be sent?

Yet in my diminished condition-
Here am I.
Beyond trend or tradition,
I ever testify.

It all boils down to these:
I am, I exist as I, and I believe.
Whatever else they may say of me
Cannot negate these three.


Swimming Downstream

Walking again in the familiar skin
Of my own isolation.
I commence lobbing Hail Marys over the fence
Against my own common sense.
I can’t be sure what crosses over, or
What falls to the floor.
I’ve tried to resist, but I subsist
On this persistence.

Maybe I was never meant to oppose this
Maybe this silence composes
Some clarity of purpose.


Sprung

New Life, so seemingly fragile,
Blooms, stretches, yawns into existence
Her entire cycle ahead still,
As she tries on her persistence,

And sleeps off her resistance.

The beauty in the fresh blossom
Sings of hope and resurrection,
Winter left us solid, solemn,
Frozen in derelict dejection,

Seeking warmer affections.

New Life breaks like sunrise,
Like a thief into the strongman’s purse,
Bringing a swift demise
To the fallow curse:

The icy hearse.