Stranger in the Dark

At night under plight of sleepless blight, moonlight washes through the window
As howling wind screams round every bend of trees to appease dancing devils,
Who mark their time by death’s tollhouse chime on every hour while you cower
In bed, where you lay your weary head to rest, flying cares on wings of prayers
To heaven’s door when suddenly you hear footsteps across the floor and more,
You spy the awful face of the Stranger who walks to stalk an unsuspecting soul
In unholy rhythm with the bands of hell, demanding their diabolic allegiance,
Commanding their assistance against any resistance you might make for sake
Of your life now at stake, but you cannot feign courage nor gain the sympathy
Of lighter spirits, or even sprites, to make a defense against the odious offense
Of him who comes to terrorize, and so you realize your only hope is in appeal
To empyrean fortification beyond space and time, where majestic Life abides,
And should you in pain gain some sure help divine against this dark Stranger,
Then you might well resign the balance of your days to the valiance of virtue,
Whereby your very self becomes an eternal expression of gratitude 
In possession of endless grace without reservation or any hesitation…
But see eyes that still peer thru the dark so stark? the Stranger yet remains

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Lift You Up And Let You Stand

Too many years, too many sad songs to hear in the heart striking fear,

And life becomes one long, ugly scar seen from heaven away so far,

And you say that it’s time to sound the chimes for the end to now begin

As you’ve given your all in this hellish brawl, and you’re left to crawl,

No longer standing tall, but wasting away in the light of high noon day

That feels like death dark night in which you long to take swift flight,

Fleeing this damned, doomed world where you were hurled at birth,

Never finding your worth on earth, always looking yet never finding

Any way to undo the binding of Hades upon your soul full of despair

With no hope of repair, yet you look up into the sky in a silent reply

To the promise of Promethean fire you might acquire in your heart

To burn much higher than the fires of Tartarus guarded by Cerberus,

And by this still hope to find an escape from the fate of humankind,

And so what now is in store in the outcome of this horrendous war?

Shall you be but another victim according to the dictum of Olympus?

Or shall you rise above gods as a victor with bright shining nimbus?

Even this is your choice to make, lest your very life you do forsake…

Alone: We Spin Our Webs

We make our beds in which to lie,

To cover ourselves before we die,

And we spin our social web

Around this self-same bed, 

To catch some unsuspecting soul

To fill in our heart’s gaping hole,

But we consume all our victims

According to Nature’s dictums,

Or else they break entirely free

And fly to where we cannot see,

But there is perhaps a better way,

More promising to spend our day,

Walking the divinely human maze

To meet another person’s face

In which we trace our very own

From an eternity hitherto unknown


Note: Inspired by Flamingle’s post entitled, “Alone.” Thank you for the inspiration!

Scourge of Michael

Monstrosity of darkness, howling winds and waves of ferocity ~

Homes swept away, steel shells of grand buildings left in tortuosity ~

Scourge of God, perhaps, or mindless chance,

Who really knows about the turbulent dance

That we call by the same name as the warrior archangel of heaven,

Which beckons recognition of power in a position of submission,

And all our glory from before lies shattered on the floor of earth,

As the storm sunk the worth of worldly goods, leaving us in dearth,

And so though we cast our bread upon the water, the pain will last

As we hold fast to some sliver of hope among death and destruction, 

While we arduously work at reconstruction in upward direction

Without any eruption in jubilee, for we mark our enemy in the sea,

Wondering when we will next be forced to flee such dark reality

Putrescent Political Circus

Sham proceedings in capital circus,
Political purchase of judicial corpus,
All to qualify going awry
Despite the people’s woeful cry…

Forget arrogant, virulent reactions,
Elision, division, and lack of vision,
Gross incision, and split decision

Roll the dice and make men mice,
Move to vomit, forget the price,
All to elect unpardonable vice

And so many blind follow behind ~
No cringing, twitching, or shrinking,
Or any thought of who’s been bought

And now will the nation surely suffer,
Having no longer any court buffer,
As clowns go on in Washington town

Qoheleth: Part A

An empty breath is life with vanity heaped upon vanity,
And all seems insanity as we march forward into death

One generation fades into oblivion as another fills its place,
But the world eternally remains in earth and sea and space,
And the face of the sun shines along a fine circuit by design,
Always to rise, always to set — to begin again once again —
As the wind blows south, then north, turning and churning,
Returning to burning land, seas and hills with terrible trills;
And rivers flow all into the ocean, yet the ocean never fills,
And then the ocean delivers its waters to the rivers to flow
And to show how mighty are they below surface so serene;
Yet are all creatures ever turbulent, creation insubordinate,
And the eye of man is never sated, but by temptation baited,
While the ear has truncated voices of virtue created by God,
Animated and articulated for all of humanity so devastated;
Yet whatever has been will be so again — time without end —
Indeed, there is nothing new under the sun,
For what was begun before will begin again;
Indeed, some say, “Look at this! Look at that!” but what of it?
We covet creativity and a birth of something worth our life,
But we have only some short time before the last bell chimes,
And there will be no memory of our lifetimes upon this earth,
And there is no expectation of some to come in coming days…

An empty breath is life with vanity heaped upon vanity,
And all seems insanity as we march forward into death