so good, I had to post another one.
Category: poetry
Masks
—– What are our masks and our reactions now saying of ourselves in our relationships with the world?
Authenticity
This poem by Wendell Berry, simple in the stark power it offers, has become the center piece in the Advent rituals of Seattle Mennonite Church (https…
Wake Now
Right outside this lazy summer home
You ain’t got time to call your soul a critic no
Right outside the lazy gate of winter’s summer home
Wondering where the nut-thatch winters
Wings a mile long just carried the bird away
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
The heart has it’s beaches, it’s homeland and thoughts of it’s own
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings
But the heart has it’s seasons, it’s evenings and songs of it’s own
There comes a redeemer, and he slowly too fades away
And there follows his wagon behind him that’s loaded with clay
And the seeds that were silent all burst into bloom, and decay
And night comes so quiet, it’s close on the heels of the day
Sometimes we live no particular way but our own
And sometimes we visit your country and live in your home
Sometimes we ride on your horses, sometimes we walk alone
Sometimes the songs that we hear are just songs of our own
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings
But the heart has it’s seasons, it’s evenings and songs of it’s own
: Jerome J. Garcia / Robert C. HunterEyes of the World lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc, Universal Music Publishing Group
In love, Be.
We’ve travelled a long road by near and by far
The longest road we traveled got us to where we are.
If I had known you before we had met
In that time of trouble and pain
Would we ever meet again?
Would we, together, have survived ?
The first time I saw you
A hard cold bitch
I could see it in your eyes you wouldn’t take no shit
I knew it Becuase you’d been living that life for so long
Staring in the eyes of the day
But refusing to awake from the night.
If no one ever told you, Your cries will never be enough.
Be
In love.
*
In my ‘77 Chrysler up upon that sea cliff
Overlooking the ocean, we were beginning to live
Listening to oldies on that lo-fi radio.
Hardly a word was spoken
We were
Together alone
Wondering only about our changing shores.
*
We may never know what life we may have lived
But here we are, we can get what we give
And we can live that life we’d been hearing from afar in that song
Through struggle and pain
We can live and live again.
Be
In love.
— C. 2015 CSP
Your at 10 and you need that extra push, where can you go?
Nowhere.
…but these goto 11.
Heart On A Sleeve
HEART ON A SLEEVE.
Put some iron on the wound.
The smell of blood will surely put you through
The pain from the stain that’s been festering in you.
Do you wonder which parts are true?
Melancholy smiles of the blackest blues
That play the heart strings a rapturous tune.
Or the simple pleasures that bring the crisis to bloom.
Or the way that you see others smiling and free
Come together and just be.
…the musings of a fool.
Roll away, roll away the dew.
This god-damned romance is just covering you
Just like the heartache when your lover comes unglued
Worked and jaded from the line you drew
Waiting
To come around.
Come around.
Wade to this side of the pool.
Come around
to the deep side of the fool.
Honestly, have you ever loved anyone deeper
That the one you loved before?
Have you never wanted more
Than to love the one that you adore?
Will there ever be a reprieve?
Wearing your heart on a sleeve.
Is there a false from a true?
Is there a me and a you?
These are the questions you surely go through.
Not to mention the pain
Once again –
Would you like a little salt on the wound?
Maybe a little deeper
Maybe some more room
To squirm and to thrash in the deepening ash
That fills the hole in your tormenting soul.
That spills onto everyone you know
Waiting to come around…
Just one flick of the tongue.
Makes you feel like you’re young again.
Just one finger in the hole.
It comes up stripped down to the bone.
Then you’re reminded of when you’re alone
Never minding who is there or how you’ve grown
Or how unselfishly they’ve invested all their energy
For you –
Only human is the musings of a fool.
One step forward two steps back.
Never quite knowing where your love is at.
Blindly reaching for a heart attack.
Honestly.
_____
2008/2019 Lance A. Kair
Image courtesy of S Lynn Knight🎈 “heart on a sleeve”.x
Singularity.
The Best Poem in the World.
The Philosopher.
The philosopher is like an arrow cutting through the air.
or rather –
A snake slicing along the surface of a river.
The truth calls the philosopher.
But until it is found, she is like a pebble thrown into the water.
The wakes echoing forth, back and away in all directions, her presence the ripple for the moment, the significance like the rain drop, fades away in dissipation of the wash, while her self sinks and dissolves.
A transcendental nobility.
Yet before this and after, but never while,
The Truth is found, and the philosopher is pulled up the stream.
She does not sink, but swims, floats, slips, buoyant.
The shallow draft carries small value,
with purpose, with determination.
Effortless.
The truth calls. And called.
The opinions vary in the concentric interferences.
She is not distracted and never beached,
The swells and rapids only occasion her indecision and resolve.
The rocks interesting siestas.
The shore never beckons.
c.2017 Lance Allan Kair.
Father.
Oh Lord don’t you keep me down,
Don’t you push me down to the ground.
Let me ride upon the waves of life,
Let me glide over the mountains of the earth.
Bring me up to the sky.
I did so much for you.
You did so much for me.
Can’t you see me
Digging in the trash of the corporate fortunates
Eating the hors d’oeuvres from their party?
What’s the matter Lord, don’t you need me?
Feed me, Lord, like you did the Five-thousand,
and prove yourself astounding to me.
How easy you are to the TV Evangelists.
How easy you are to the Popes and Presidents.
How easy you are to suburbia.
How easy you are to powerful America.
How easy you are
but not to me.
I see you on the cross when the church is gone.
I hear you in the malls, even the Pentagon;
I read about you on the walls and in books;
I can’t understand, I did what it took.
I see you in your great big golden chair
And hear you in the mouths of people everywhere.
Does your existence depend on the clothes they wear?
I think you’re not there.
Oh Lord,
Save me.
C. 1988 Lance A Kair.
