there are fires now
where there used to be
untiring admonishing crucifixion
sentences of expiration
venting political direction
high up on
gravestone Gethsemane
staring down enraged
engaged on that cruddy knob
ruddy visions of blood and pity
sand and limestone gravel
cemented into closed
tall stone walls
such an imposing city
surrounded by appalling
immense gall and loathsome
so much doom took place
leaving mere remnants
manna and what used to be
when ailing earth speaks
involving dissolution
atop divine peaks
cradling refined life
beneath deep sea
seeking resolution
availing absolution
journey into truth
revealing self and sin
what if humans weren't
proven two legged
mental upright freaks
some gentle servile
a judgemental dreaming thing
agile mental ability
making fragile life
infantile and uncertain
just one fatal act
leading to another
or so it often seems
raising a commanding curtain
demanding nature's other facts
exposure we had better see
even in Gethsemane's firelight
crucifying nature is spiritually wrong
divine nature cannot simply right
stature and planetary destruction
all our insanity
selfish human acts
only God and evolution
being swept up
conceptual things
with this current
almighty vision
always creating
some universal solution
those convoluted human things
come to blind us
remember those
spiritual things
love in our hearts
souls blessed
driven with spiritual insight
still there rises
regent Gethsemane
adorned with singular ideals
addressing golden Caesar
behold those old angular idols
toasting fiery remedies
something crucifixion
constitutional vengeance
reveals with its reviled desire
take depressing designation
turn depressed expression into love
rejoice fulfilled
embrace joyful inspiration
Gethsemane created surreal hordes
ethereal crowds of moaning ghosts
talk about spears and swords
honed words of absolution
digress with formal disgrace
stormy oppression as crucifixion
all that being almighty sees
repressed images revealed
Holy Ghost in sacred shrouds
hovering as mist and clouds
midst groves of singing sacred trees
somewhere between
unassuming heaven
and fiery Gethsemane

               * * *

 

deep diving
against ripping current
how deep can I go
pulling hard
such awesome
gripping flow
neutralize that
what do I trade
things I need
queen of spades
what is said and more  
another game to know
this is sleep depriving
probably a losing hand
where one
can or can't
possibly gain control
I'm like a misplaced mole
not that one tracking and tracing
racing to dig deep tunnels
burrowing through
soft organic ground
chewing through sediment
segments of worm to worm
but that other one
corrupting clear skin
like something
delivered by a jury sun
sure corruption
never really fun
blemishes pealing skin
this feeling hide
we're stuck in
muck and dig down
expose my reeling heart
suck up congealed matter
what if I can't breathe
deep diving
oxygen deprived
like some
screwed up
mad hatter
inhaling mythology
sniffing toxic glue
what about those things
riffs I thought
I believed
perhaps delegating faith
delicate has run out
a rebel lungful
short of relevant air
what if I suddenly realize
serialize for some rash reason
whether I sink or swim
episodes of I don't really care
maybe surfacing
out of necessity
reversing breast strokes
best spoken things
tokens of conversely
just some energetic
poetic verse and whim
realize vigour
can be reciprocity
exchanging words
bonding with other
strange molecules
triathlons in that hurried mix
fathoms of blurred necessity
compounded by entering
confounding heart ventricles
reliance on some gaseous fix
if I reach rock bottom
perhaps blue blood
mix faith with deep diving
resurface because of things
I've somehow forgotten
still I'm adrift
drifting on
some unfathomable sea
maybe I'll reach out
readily study
moon and stars
search for slip stream tides
ride with sacred things
I've rehearsed things
tossed them away
traversing things
I thought
sort of soft
rotten and misbegotten
maybe if I dive deep
sound deep enough
find lost treasure
just madly being
has freely begotten
sad and real love
in some true measure
try to keep
my eyes open
perhaps then
I will
get some sleep
dream about
being free
maybe then
forgiving God
will let me be

          * * *

 

why did you
ever come back
after being dead
just to haunt me
revise another dry chapter
where lonesome guy
walks his daily gauntlet
writes war poems
imagines trying
vying to recapture
just where I
lay my talking head
dream what wild roses
did to you
just come back
find your way back
through sharp thorns
mind those tangled brambles
call on crawling me
simply to grasp
take firm hold
my trembling hands
lift me up
because I have fallen
lead me gasping
escape to heaven
or do you want
to drive a cruel stake
pierce right through
my bleeding heart
watch me slowly dying
catch me starkly provisioned
at times I still wake up crying
I'm pleading with your sense
smelling your favourite incense
if only there could be
some prized revision
revise your ghostly sight
improvise and lead me
your mystic vision
journey through
death's cryptic night
deceptively unabashed
zipping off
tripping and uncaring
into ghastly hell
rap out
hard knocks
tapping on
mister devil's infernal door
masterfully claiming
lightning and cosmic glimmering
trim curtains lifting
I certainly see
dangling draperies
braided red rope
I'm trying to cope
seeing your apocalyptic
dress of satin
bleeding off of
shimmering you
stand bodily on
so boldly captivating
solidly hovering over
that demon underworld stage
can middle earth ever recover
I see you crying
I hear you moaning
we're still in rapture
yet I'm denying
all your manifest angst
sometimes I wish
this daunting dream
would be over
I'm haunted
I'm feeling
manically unraveled
groveling in muddy gravel
unraveled by your lasting hurt
still I can't help
dearly want to dispel
befuddled I'm sensing
your flaming soul and rage
what if love and reality
never ever ring true
would we still
remain imprisoned
shamed and shackled
just enduring life
within some juried compound
a heartbreaking cage
maybe recurring you
your shimmering spectre
does come back
needing to want me
knowing where we stood
that very same place
we could have been
breathing together
loving and living
rapt with joy and giving
now we're missing
love's passionate moods
all love's dizzying kissing
touch and love we enjoyed
but now it's ghastly
where love and compassion
failed and broke down
confessed rights and wrongs
left a restive reflection
perhaps an invitation
your hovering ghost
cleverly showing up
relentless but wistful
mystically staring out
remarkably a quivering being
ghostly quavering images
harkening to savoury
remarking on what is
that old haunted
silver backed mirror
I surely comprehend you
your cursory image
bent and moaning
you need to say
delay all hope
you want to stay
relay all fear
crazy tears for those
amazed by spectral sound
a crest of reverberation
consider golden buzzer singing
a racket banging tin
deep ringing within
unnerving human ears
who could ever bear
those ghostly sounds
serving clairvoyance
voiceless words
I'm physically hearing
psychically knowing
what special order
life could have been
if you would have
stayed beside me
lived inside me
continued breathing
loving romp and play
who knows
what we could
have been
if you would
have somehow lived
forever with me
instead tragedy
came to own me
oh so silently
desperately surrendering
instead of magically
living on defiantly
still so quiescently
begin with death
love's spirit abandoned us
quintessential pilgrimage
I'm not invincible
I'm simply bereft
left soulfully broken
sadly I'm done
you left me
with your ghostly image
phantom mist encountering
a crown of ball lightning
accountable under twinkling stars
some holy ghost miracle
eclipsed by that crazy mystic moon
repentance under a tantric sun
you and frantic life
could have been
perhaps your ghostliness still can
because you entrance me
but you seem closed
in death so far away
I wish I could
dance with you
hold you in my aching arms
suddenly speaking and music stopped
why wouldn't you want to stay
what about love and charms
your beautiful eyes
your perfect being
passing silently away
now you are witness
your ghost has come
to watch me
try to live
to watch me
try not to die
you still want me
watch me
while I try to play
you still need me
what you feel and think
you're ghost still asks me
to hear all you have to say

                * * *

 

I dreamed about love
love sleeping beside me
I wondered about love
what blissful dream
could love be having
what if love woke
deep inside me
what if love spoke
words that needed saying
I'm terrified about love
dreaming about love
abandoning me
thinking love can't
ever forgive me
maybe love was right
knowing we would
never get enough
maybe in love's brilliant sight
we'd wake up to find
that love dreams too
love with all its aches and pain
love with all its fears and dread
things about love we regret
forever haunting us
love speaks about our lives
love's relation is very full
even those bleak stories
sharing ghosts and morning glories
words all about  
those human things
wicked love has said
all those wicked things
love in its wicked way
always brings those things
that always stay
in our wicked hearts
and wicked heads

             * * *

 

even when
your soup is thin
love can feed us
hopefully something
vegetables and rice
a phenomenal onion
a nominal piece of beast
oh how can this
mucked up world
rearrange shear beauty
change to horrid ugliness
life rockets by
so comically fast
like brokenhearted Ophelia
speed drowning
quickly breathing in
all her liquid sorrow
prose without sick or warning
suicidal clouds rushed in
pushing away glory
shoving hope
into dark lonely corners
there might have been
innocence weeping and ignorance mourning
witness to those desperate dreams
even with horror arriving
delivering mindless desperation
choreography of physical pain
making what kind was
once beauty and divine
some culinary mistake
funnily mixed
fixed into something
devils relaxed and feasting
while spicy saints and herbal sages
pure vision with clear natural sight
go blind with revelation's fury
fight and fright into devil madness
suddenly that stewed up world
reflects a horrible moral story
something only nightmares
dejected beings imagine
providential subjects become
monsters in those storms
forgetting what they were
once upon a time
innocent children
happily remembering
how to play
feelings of security
 play was so much fun
hoping for tomorrow
friends basking in warm sun
yet somehow a mortal task
wretched blood and striking torment
hurt incessantly ragging
clawing at us all
we're crassly dragged
kicking and screaming
into some hellish place
don't remind me
about ghoulish treachery
terror and torture
everything just bloody cruel
as for disparaged liking
more loathing and wanting
daunting vengeance into despair
following senseless tracks
into the telling mud
variables within this crud
invariably life has something
if something was ever good
everything crazily melding
one faze into the crazed next
still some thin soup
broth remains wanting
boiled heartless stock
garnished with chopped stolen lives
a side dish of pickled shackled souls
some thin consomme
so much more than icky and fickle
sacred water trickling past
amendments to those boiling worlds
where toiling is about something
population itinerant enemies
what moiling might that be
if ever an army neutral planet
perhaps cleverly incorporated
mastering another beautiful world
casting karmic love
prepared with some joy
fiction beyond utopia
something that can
only be imagined
it seems featured life
walks hand in hand
marching with metered living
teetering constantly
reckoning what is gloomy
a looming precipice to hell
each strong telling wind
every vying nasty storm
drives innocence and forgiveness
stampedes compassion o'er that moral edge
that principled ledge implicating unsound life
utter mania pledged to become boundless
thus passion may be worthless  
fanatics being hopelessly groundless
we're stuck in deep ruts
try making everything appear real
feeling scared and short of breath
thin soup is an inkling
of stinking ways and dismay with decay
we've been consuming mud pie
as our nightmare dessert
so let's hope and pray for a new menu
management offering nutritious life
a savory main course
slurping up some rich soup
before taking in another breath
inhale life's delectable dessert
regaling moral right and left
failing rich stock soup
thin corporate soup
seasoned with corporeal death
relatively tasteless creed
attendantly reassuring naive life
faithfully force feeding
subversively amended broth
profit from sharp bits and jagged pieces
rendering truth as baseless
relentless action facelessly attracting
more thin soup
served with God's distasteful wrath

                   * * *

 

you hear me
but you don't know me
you see me
but you don't own me
I want to see you
though I don't know you
I need to hear you
but I won't own you
I want to know God
but I can't see God
I want to hear God
but I can't phone God
when I see you
I want to love God
when I hear you
Goddess with spiritual vision
when I need you
divine calling me
when I see you
I know gracious God
blessed loving God
acknowledging spirit
spatial you and me
when I feed you
need into delight
God feeds us
holy psalms and holy broth
with that sound
with that sight
love bleeds for both
precious you
and precious me
love needs us both
so precious light
illuminates real love
for us to feel
for us to see

          * * *

 

what about change
things incomplete
something completely strange
about unspeakable doom
maybe that is
too much gloom
imagine change
knocking on
your doomsday door
so much fear
what could be
perilous change
vulnerably close
when one can
taste it
doom's rank odour  
smelling it
rectified transformation
drifting close by
those numbered notes
we tend
sounding harsh  
we take
crowned by remorse
life attends to it
defendable doom seems
such a senseless dose
so who knows
why even try
what might come
who knows why
God left us
most often defenseless
costs that leave us senseless
approaching doom
seems so forlorn
those endings
attached to beginnings
still beginnings
flow into endings
let's ratchet things up
perhaps the biggest challenge
trying to describe
what doom truly is
letters and numbers
events and actions
perhaps blue skies
those once vibrant
now wilting blooms
volcanoes better describe
what is what
tribe to first nation tribe
what about doom's crazed ideals
razing lava what a nightmare
stalking our flaming dreams
into what is real
a blameless cosmic seam
I wonder if doom
resurrects some euphoric challenge
locked into life
doom's indescribable lust
chained with resistance
truly mired
condemned as existence
shackled in an inescapable room
a crypt perhaps
adorned with apocalyptic gloom
revealing almighty God
absolute with lustful revenge
just a pointed finger of God
inscribing every powerful challenge
describing every deflowering doom
derived like an eclipse
compromised rings
evolving around the sun
believe the wretched moon
revolution that can't come too soon
such creative rapture
isn't always true or blue
captured as existence
colouring a figment world
delivering pigments of gruesome doom
challenging fearsome change
isn't necessarily
completely gloom
life's challenges
certainly shake us
sometimes ripping out
heart and soul
talking fanatic life
speaking about new heights
lives so often separated
segmented with resistance
clandestine holy
brandishing its doomsday knife
sacred is unincorporated
diminishing existential rights
change ne'er devoid of fear
such an orbital challenge
avoiding mortal strife

               * * *