Forest Pilgrim: Another Way, Brighter Day

Thick forest, tattered hood in tangled wood,
Walking along well-worn path with long-born grief
With no relief but in the belief that there is an end;
Weary traveler sends signal shouts absorbed
By the trees and foliage, and nothing to see
Beyond the thicket surrounding all around,
And not even the sound of singing birds
Bringing sweet news from higher views . . .
Has he been this way before?
O weary traveler, you cannot ignore
In gullibility the possibility that you’re circling round
And are bound to meet yourself coming and going . . .
Stop here! This is somewhere, anywhere that may be,
And not nowhere; why tear yourself in two
Because you can no longer bear the burden?
There is bound to be a better way this day, some say;
Stay for awhile and rest in nest of cloak and grass . . .
Let some time pass in peace and the war inside cease,
Then look for the narrow road less traveled
By the brook of clear water always running near,
So dear to the pilgrim in thick forest of tangled wood;
See out from under your hood the way up and out
And sooner than later you will shout in daylight
Upon plains lush and bright at the sight of which
You will dance and prance like newborn fawn
In the rising dawn far away from well-worn path
Where heart was torn by soul-born grief . . . Relief!

Capitulation to Manipulation

Capitulation to manipulation is only bondage
In which you pay homage to fear as hostage;
Love is not exploitation, vexation and soul starvation;
Love is exaltation, celebration and heart liberation!
Submission to nefarious calculation and scheming
Is dreaming of happiness in an inescapable dungeon
Of lies that fly straight from the pits of dark Abaddon!
Being manipulated is really the same as being hated:
You are being twisted and torn, turned and burned
With no real compassion or affection ever returned,
While the puppet-master grins, writing your life
With his very own pen . . . again and again and again!
Know truth; stand on truth; cling to truth; speak truth
And refuse to bow again to the clever, levering cow!

Relief: The Lunatic’s Rave

Indeed, have ten thousand fallen down all around,
While I myself lie prostrate on blood-soaked ground;
One misstep following another, I fell without sound;
Darkness draws near ~ pain and suffering abound.

And, lo, does the deadly pestilence stalk at night,
And terror in the darkness that no man can fight!
Behold, the pale horseman with his quiver of plight,
Arrows striking the very sun to blacken all light!

Listen! Here is a mournful sound without harmony
Rising from unknown tombs in earth and sea!
Dead souls given voice in the council of eternity,
To clamour for justice denied heartless cruelty!

And now is this high refuge become my low grave?
And hope no longer lives there is Someone to save?
Must I, too, await relief but in death’s cold wave
When finally does Mercy silence the lunatic rave?

Note: Originally published sometime in the summer of 2012 and can also be found on the Slightly Poetic Slice of My Life  page

Waking Thoughts

Will you be there when I arrive?
Please don’t deprive me of you;
After driving so far from home,
Tell me I’ll be arriving in yours

Crazy thoughts flow in and out of mind
Still in bind of sleep, eyes keep closing;
Repair something, you say? But what?
With tender, loving care . . . But what?

Heavy heart vacant as an empty lot;
Except for you, so much is changing
And I strain to see how, where and why
But I don’t know where the train is going!

And what am I to fix in this mix?
There’re no tricks up my sleeve!
Anyway I didn’t break it!
Then how can I remake it?

I feel like crying after trying so hard,
But I just wanna know if you’ll show
What’s up ahead? Will I have a bed?
I tread lightly . . . now I’m so afraid!

What will I do? I don’t have a clue!
I just know I didn’t expect the blow,
And now . . . my heart feels ready
To explode; completely unsteady

Will you be there when I arrive?
Please don’t deprive me of you;
After driving so far from home,
Tell me I’ll be arriving in yours

Tell me I’ll be arriving in your arms!

Looking to the Streets

Now I really am in trouble,
Tempest tossed and lost,
And I can nearly feel the frost
Of an uncertain future on the streets:
Stranger-vagabond to everyone I meet,
Feet frozen, hands numb, mouth dumb,
Deserted by family and friends,
Ravenous wolves round every bend . . .
And how does it feel to be destitute?
Shall I turn this aging body into a prostitute?
But, O God, have I ever turned away
From someone in need?
Failed to feed the hungry?
Have I been too comfortable in my hole?
Have I been a miser without a soul?
Ah! But thousands ask the same questions,
Do they not? And wonder how it is they got
Where they got and why? And they try
To figure some way out and off vacant lots,
And they scheme and plot because that’s
What they have left, so bereft are they
Of family and friends who care,
And whoever said life is fair?
Then why should I be the privileged one?
Why should I not walk the streets
To the beats of every other homeless heart?
Oh, but I am frightened, my chest tightened;
Lord, can I make it? Can I take it?
Will you walk with me the miles?
Will I still feel the warmth of your smiles?
. . .
One pleading hand reaching for the sky
One cracked voice finally saying ‘goodbye’
. . .
And, after all, will I have a home on high?

There Is Something Going On

There is something going on beneath the surface,
Something of purpose that escapes the naked eye;
There is an unseen profundity in life all around me;
Even though I cannot see, I can sense the degree
Of complexity and the intricacy and even intensity
Of machinations in which I have only my station;
Life is far more than we can know
And life never shows itself in full,
(which may be why I’m like a bull in a china shop!)
And this can seem cruel but, alas, tis really a mercy;
But how odd it does feel to feel intense movement
All around you, knowing but not knowing, bound
To affect your life in some way some unwary day;
Yes there is surely something going on underneath
Still in its sheath, perhaps, but there and I’m aware
I’m aware . . .