On the Threshold…

(24-11-02)

a full field of wheat

ripples in the wind

golden
glistening in the sun

bursting with ripeness

its time for harvest

says the Reaper

and with his scythe

harvests…

carries to the mill

to the the threshold,

the thrashing floor

yes he will thrash you

young grain

to within an inch
of your lives

for the Reaper

is the Dweller

and

the threshing floor

his domain

he hangs his scythe

by the door

where you long to meet

the Angel

on the other side

but first

your heart

will winnow

the husks

of lives

memories
of the

loves and hurts

let the wind

blow them away
   

Courage to be Rich

(6-2-03)

 

daunted hearts

shiver in the shadow

pale at the prospect

of living
a wealthy life

rather than evoke

the courage to be rich

fearfully

undeserving

they fight over scraps

at the Lord’s feast

rewarding

His generosity with a

parsimonious heart

squeaking timid

like mice

under the table…

to be wealthy

to be a

‘rich young man’

with a well
stocked larder

harder the heart

must toil

fear and scare

flip to

love and dare

learn these laws

and sovereignty

is yours

and,

sovereigns

will pile high

on your floors!

 

 

  Motherless Child

(22-4-03)

 

sometimes I feel like

a motherless child

onetime I fell into

the otherless wild

mother where are you?

its so lonely out here

in the otherless wild

I fell into

the blackest and endless

abyss…

kept plummeting

headlong…

would have preferred

to land with a thud

impaling myself

upon the

spent and jagged

arrows of past

unruly forays

but no finite

understanding

here for this

earthbound beast

braying hoarse

by the pen…

instead
darkest deeps

just keeps

swallowing him up

reeling in

his never ending ribbon

of self unravelling

like streamers

at some sad wedding…

sails reduced to rag

flapping madly as he falls

pauperish Icarus

bombing out

after tilting at Apollo

now

pendant twixt earth and Sun

crucified on the crossbeam

of Moon and Mars

with Saturn and Pluto

for an upright…

there be the crux

of matter

 

 

  Capture of the Tyrant
( 3-06-03)

 

there I see

his hideous face

blinking in the glare

of my shocked stare

only glimpsed before

but captured now

in movement

long enough

to get a fix

like snapping

the elusive yeti

 

thanks to

the nymph

of the labyrinth

who could take a stand

who could withstand

the furious barrage

and fearful struggle

of the cornered beast

powerless,

now

brought to ground…

 

winged messenger

you were a witness

you held a mirror

you unbound

by holding

it down

long enough

to see,

that death

must come

to that ancient

part of me.

 

 

  Plumbing the Deep

(11-09-2003)

 

how can

the unfathomable

be plumbed?

beached

at high water mark

left high and dry

gasping for water

while the tides of the heart
ebb low

revealing sandy shoals
upon which the errant sailor

ran aground

then ran to ground…

the depths of loneliness

belong to a bottomless sea

where silence screams
in the murky black…

the careless fisherman

dumped his catch

eventually

caught a Jonah

consuming

him and his boat

a vertical dive
 down for days

weeks then months

the bends set in

narcosis neurosis

solitary paralysis

suffocating isolation…

lucky it was only a dream

from which he finally awoke
but still he gasps for water….

 

 

How Can I Count the Ways?
(4-10-03)

 

love me only

if I am not

who I used to be

love me only

if I am not
sick or infirm

love me only
if I am not

an emotional
wreck

love me only

if I am
 not weak

reminding you

of your frailties
love me only

if I do

not appear

vain

love me

only if

I do not

threaten

who you

think you are

love me only

if I am not in
recovery

love me only

if it does

not spoil

your cute way

of how you see

your community

love me only

if I worship

the same god

love me only

if we see

I to I

love me only

if I do

not upset

your world

love me while

you block

my heart

with artful

shadow play

love me

while you avoid

direct dialogue

because

you choose

to fish in

shallow water

love me

in word

but don’t

demonstrate

the deed

love me with

a few words

tossed

carelessly

like

a quick salad

with a dash of

compassion dressing

love me like

a frilly

shop window

with no stock

at the back

of the shop

love me like

you’re wearing

authentic armani

tho’ you merely

masquerade

love me with

all your

conditions

and rules

like souless
legal jargon

that ties

my heart

in knots

love me vainly

with your

projected image

of what

you want me

to see

but don’t

you know?

I see through

all your

cardboard cutout

not-selves

cowering in fear

like barren

Amazonians

dreading the visit

of Hercules

love me like

you had

a thousand

precious girdles!

love me only

‘in the field’

plant the seed

in the furrow

cultivate

your new crop

you are still

chewing on the

withered kernels

of past harvests

love without fear

dare to love

le couer conquers

love me tender

love me right

love me…

in the long night

 

 

  Sun opposite Jupiter
(17-12-03)

I am the mighty river

sweeping down the land

in full flood

bursting the banks

as I race to the sea

naught can stop

this monsoon season

look out

all lesser tributaries

lest this artery swollen

swallows you up

in its gushing forth!

pumping

the gladatorial heart

that lifts the sword

defiant, flashing

in the wide sky

hearken!

hear this heart

and its trilling song

 
Outlands
21-03-04

 

these deep interiors
resound roundly
cavernous and black…
groping into the grand
ballroom of shadows
whose phantom dancers
glide silent
over the onyx
darkly gleaming
with what light

is seeming…
I know these faces,
self-sentenced
prisoners on permanent
day-leave

shackled by smugness…
they think they have
me snugly pegged
with ill-disguised guile

these petty lilliputians

so scared and scarred
by the lead-tipped lash of pride
and the stinging salt
of their own conceit
attack
even the proffered hand
of brother love
generous, to a fault
so precarious
self-esteem
does not totter,
does not diminish
is not found wrong
(is always right)
endlessly justifies,
props up
the presented image…
this gaggle of narcissi
come to slurp and gaze

at some muddy pool in drought

serving out their exile
unrepentant.

Page 12 >>>


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