POETRY

Oh, the Wicked Innocent

Cry not, Cry not

For the great Almighty has spake the word

But which god’s voice have you heard

We divide ourselves as does the mind

Our all-seeing eyes that leave us blind

To the words of wretched plots, cry not

Cry not, cry not

I speak the word, the word of the Lord

A word of war to quench the hungry herd

You speak the word, a word much different

But to the fire it serves, as does the flint

For the rope in its wisdom is taut, cry not

Cry not, cry not

For victory is found on the red plain

And with the enemy slain we follow the river vein

Where we will spread the glory we have plundered

And show you love so you may steer our rudder

For you our salvation was brought, cry not

Cry not, Cry not

But as the murmurs turn into thunder

We must turn our knife on our own brother

For it is told and we must follow

Because the word must be spoken, not swallowed

But their gallop will fall to a trot, cry not

For when in death we find ourselves fools

A death too soon when ignorance rules

And from the darkness will emerge the new

Who will take one small step toward the truth?

Pity is wasted on those who rot, cry not

Owls on My Screen in Twenty Seventeen

There are owls on my screen

Lurking, watching, howling, hooting

Such a bizarre scene

As I sit simply watching

In Twenty Seventeen

Compensation and distraction spoil the brew

Searching for the prettiest and finest of you

Stick them in a box and watch them dance

And make view the many who can’t

Crane their necks and strain their eyes

Their pretty mouths with pretty lies

With nothing but a question on their lips

Their simple minds so firmly gripped

But so many answers given to who?

One for me and one for you

And slipped in our heads by whom?

Only the voice in your living room

So watch them dance, and watch them sing

For only in beauty can this message bring

Deformity upon your soul grown foul

Churned in the bile of the owl

Years from now will prove me right

But alas the owls will take flight

And sing a tune, a different song

That they “had known all along.”

Perhaps in that distant time

They will arise a bird of another kind

And once again we will open wide

To consume the frothy putrid chide

Birds of red and birds of blue

Pick the poison that best suits you

And when the blue bird stares you down

Remember it was you who gave the crown

And again we will hear it sing and watch it dance

And once more fall into trance

But for now it is Twenty Seventeen

And there are owls on my screen.

PIANO

Hush, hush my dear

Speak softly for one to hear

A subtle voice can sway a choice

When fallen on solemn ear

You must not fear their disbelief

But instead stay steady as a thief

So you may move them to and fro

With a voice that leans them on their toes

As they listen their arguments will falter

To your voice as calm as water

And with each word you utter they will find

That no one could resist a voice so fine

For no wise man need his voice be raised

It was his written word and silence that they praised

And the words he wrote he seldom spoke

For it was no secret that he would choke

Upon the weight of his own words

And though his teachings never clanged or clashed

They’re found in the songs of birds

And unto the hum of the wind it was passed

That though the words were light as a feather

And shaped like one too

He knew that only upon unspoken words

Could these lessons hold true

So hush my dear but stand tall

For the greatest words ever spoken were done so softly

And the words far greater, were never spoken at all.

FORTE

Run, run my dear

Sing on high so all may hear

Preach it loudly and shout it proudly

So it may carry to every ear

You must not fear their manic protests

For terror can seize and arrest

Do not hold these words to your chest

Let them go forth so others may attest

That the meek can have this Earth

For the gallant and brave will have seized the next

Did we not enter pawing and screaming at birth?

We will continue our cry until our throats are pressed.

For when a lion roars all will listen

And a lesson loud will never lessen.

And if ones words strike quietly at their fall

Then one should never have spoken at all

And to the wind and birds, pay no mind

For if their words were grave, they would speak louder than the chimes

But who does not yield at the crack of lightning

Or to the might of thunder at sky’s brightening?

With one knee bent we bow to thunder

Unless, we be torn asunder

But fear is not the voice’s tool

That is merely the weapon of a fool

Sharp and fierce must voices be

So that we may carry its true meaning

So yes my dear speak lively

As long as the sun is still beaming.

The Boy by the Stream

A mother and boy into a forest walked

Not knowing the lessons they’d soon be taught

The boy, though small, walked with pace

Leaving his mother behind to chase

Many times did the boy feel nearly free

Until his mother gave a shrill plea

“Slow down dear child and stay near to me

Follow the path and stay in my sight.”

So the boy’s wings were clipped but desperate for flight

With no sound at all they came to a stream

No sound did it utter

No voice of the forest, not even a flutter

But the boy did hear and so did he beam

As he approached the silent stream

More woods lay beyond with the suns mighty gleam

His mother in grey did call over to him

“There is fruit over yonder upon that limb.

Do not move from that spot, you must remain still.

I will return when my basket is filled.

We must arrive home before it grows late.”

There the boy did wait

And in the reflection he did see

A man of many years older than he.

The boy was scared that the poor man had drowned

But the man did smile to reverse his frown

The man did ask “Can you see me dear boy?”

With one nod the man cried joy

“And so my voice you can hear?”

The boy bent closer devoid of fear

“Yes dear boy please come near

So that my intentions may be made clear

Over the river do you wish to cross?

Then I’m afraid it comes with a cost.”

Moments later the mother arrived

To find her boy nowhere in sight

Until her eyes fell to her feet

Where, beneath the waters ghostly sheet

She saw her dear child’s eyes

She fell to the ground with sorrowful cries

“Why dear heaven has my poor boy died?”

Then she felt a touch upon her hand

And she looked into the stream at the face of a man

“Do not curse your god this is not his doing

This is your own sons ruing

For he is not dead, and you may rejoice

For he has made an important choice!”  

“You wicked creature you evil man!”

“Do not condemn what you don’t understand.”

“But you took my boy and now he’s drowned.”

“No dear mother his fate is unbound.

There was never such a boy as the one you did see

Only the one who resides here with me.”

“But he was my boy I’ve raised him from birth.”

“No sweet mother he was raised by the earth.

Your guiding hand and watchful eye

Were useful yes, but now it’s time

For this magnificent boy to join his kind.”

“But I am his mother, his blood, his life.”

“I am afraid the fruit must be picked while ripe.

I know that you feel your heart has been ripped

But please understand that this is a gift.”

“I would never receive it if given the choice.”

“But it is not yours dear mother, it is the boys.”

“And what has he said on my behalf?”

“Nothing on yours, but his own he has”

And so, her tears did flow

But not for the pain of loss

She could not conceive that her love and care

Could not bridge the gap that was always there

With knuckles white she clawed the moss

She turned back to the wood out of the suns gleam

Knowing, never again could she return to the stream

The boy and man watched as she walked farther

And then they rose from the water

They walked over the marsh and into the wood

The boy looked back to the stream that did divide

Watching his mother’s every stride, he did not cry

The two then walked the forest through

To join among the happy few

And stand among the gallant band

Whose words few would understand

And though the boy’s reflection could be seen

He would never again cross that silent stream.

The Miami Sun

The Miami sun beats down on me

Enjoying sunny weather in the depth of November

The sand beneath my feet

Happiness is miles from home

Laughter rings out at the table

Familiar voices making familiar choices

Company with whom I’m comfortable

Happiness is miles from home

I can feel the expansion of my mind

Tearing through pages, and pondering my wages

Studying knowledge of every kind

Happiness is miles from home

Smooth skin held against my own

A body of which to warm, and a life with which to form

The world to ourselves when we’re alone

Happiness is miles from home

Four walls does not a home make.

Conflicting minds, like crashing tides

This so called family is a farce, it’s a fake

Welcome home.

Rear View

Breathe in

My dreams lay beside me

I’ve chased them for so long but now they lay with me

They’re here to rest their feet, I’m here to rest my eyes.

So long I’ve waited to touch them

But I will not lift a finger

I cannot lift a finger

Instead I speak to them

Words that have waited a lifetime:

I’ve lived a life of merit, but no merit did I gain

I put my soul on paper, but I did so in vain

I gazed at stars but was left blinded by the sun

Sought sweetness but was left bitter

Chose the road less traveled, but traveled too slow

I held beauty in my mind, I swear it

But defaced it with hands too eager to wear it

I do promise that I tried

I tried, Mr. Elliot, to have a platinum mind

But my platinum mind fell to gold and silver

At this thought I merely shiver

Now my fading mind is left to wonder

Of all the corners of my mind left unplundered

Will they make me a Dickenson?

Discover my worth another day?

Or will my words do as I have and fade away

Was it my spirit they rejected?

Were my words too harsh or soft?

I cannot go until I know

Perhaps I reached too high

Perhaps only birds can rule the sky

Perhaps my motives were too low

Trying only to tell, not show

But no.

I see it now

I failed myself somehow

Spewing words without a care

I can only be praised for the words that are not there

I am certain now, without a doubt…

Breathe out.