(from "The Pulling Down Of Strongholds)


REMORSE CODE


It's not the truth, and yet it set me free--
All things are permissable, nothing true...
Freedom is the glass you don't look into.
It's an inkling of the Beast
In the twinkling of a tear-filled eye.
I reach with arms extending...
I no longer reach for the sky.
And I cannot not let be
All that can but cannot not be.
Retrieving all belief from the Deceased...
Stepping down, but not descending--
Even "believe" contains a "lie."

It's not the truth; it's not even a noun.
We're a race against the clock--
Heretic and heretock.
I hear It talk, but It will not speak to me.
And if It speaks, It has a mouth and tongue to lie.
If It speaks, then It has teeth for feeding.
I have to know why I have to know, or be known by
A watch by which to wait and weight me down,
Beneath the Watchmaker's great and watchful frown.
The truth shall set you up; just let it be.
Jesting Minstrel, Menstrual Jester, bleeding...
It's the burning hair of the tick that bled me dry.


)+(

(Taken from "The Pulling Down Of Strongholds")


COLD LIFE OF FAITH


Losing time and losing weight
Losing patience, losing faith
It’s amazing what transpires in a year
As cold hard faith turns into hate
Unseen things are exactly as they appear.

Our fingers writhing in the wrist,
Like serpents slithering in the dust—
From dust we came, and some keep going back.
Some keep going on because they must.
Some of us would settle for some feedback,
Too angry to be an atheist.
.............Smothering black sensations of being somehow surrounded…
.............The ringing in my ears of a trump that never sounded…
.............Blizzards in the dark skies, these cold heavens won’t save me now.

We’ve “never seen the righteous forsaken”;
I’m one due date from living on the street.
“Thou shall not steal,” the Scriptures say...
But if I don’t, God knows, I will not eat.
I count my blessings every day,
And everyday I pray I’m mistaken.
.............A prayer within a prayer, that God will save me somehow…
.............Hoping above all hope there is only so much God allows…
.............Too stubborn just to end it, this cold world won’t stop me now.

Flossing with the tightrope
That is my mortal chord
Overwhelmed and undernourished
Hating myself for the Lord
A cold faith that once had flourished
Gives up the Ghost, and hope.
.............How can I keep Your laws when I can’t even keep the faith?
.............Where is the justice in the loneliness imposed by “true love’s” wait?
.............Questioning my answers, my cold faith can’t save me now.

As faith disintegrates,
My conscience and my slate
Shall be the only things not clear.
As I become all that I hate ,
Unseen things are exactly as they appear...



)+(

(Taken from "The Pulling Down Of Strongholds")


STRANGE FLESH


A bond far closer than a brother,
A hymen broken like the body of Christ—
The spear of the Roman
Pierced another side of the divine .
A spirited woman
Gave up her ghost, violent like a poltergeist.
Once she washed the Saviour’s feet with tears;
Now she’s washing the sheets with holy fear .
Quivers of strange flesh, bodies as shrines…
I knew her as I knew no other,
Yet we barely know each other otherwise .
Rivers of blood, shivers down the spine...
In the Biblical sense, we only know the price.


)+(

(from THE PULLING DOWN OF STRONGHOLDS)


THE IRON FIST OF LOVING KINDNESS

…By the letter of the Law and the long arm of the Lord,
An iron fist of loving kindness…


Just half a body of Christ uneaten—
Enough bottles of the Blood to forget,
Lest I waste my final sin on anger…
Half my breath wasted on unspoken psalms.
As I shiver, rosary beads of sweat
Bead across a brow so beat and beaten,
By the love and the kindness of strangers…
And the strangest kind of love, no less—
An iron glove of loving kindness,
Worn by the hand of God and soccer moms.
.............Not peace but a sword,
.............Because the violent take it by force,
.............To make apostles of the apostate
.............To lie prostrate and to kiss the prostate
.............Of Heaven’s earthly kingdom elect.
.............In tow out toward,
.............Knocking on all of the heathens’ doors,
.............To purchase souls, and to sell a sect.

I once was lost but now I find
I’m saved and losing more and more—
Lord, I pray they quit while they’re ahead.
Greater is He that has forsaken me,
To leave me in a world this poor…
With such strong cases for weak minds,
With my best interests in their heads—
With eyes only to gauge my progress,
And ears only to hear me confess…
Praying for me, with me…preying on me…
.............Loving us enough to offend,
.............To make this world their stage, to stage their passion plays.
.............But there are those who changed their roles,
.............When life’s ironies took their toll…
.............By His children’s pitiless love,
.............Sentenced to Heaven’s hands again
.............Because the hands of Heaven are open always,
.............But wearing huge, cold iron gloves.


…Sparing good intentions, and good intentions to spare,
An iron fist of loving kindness.


)+(

(from THE PULLING DOWN OF STRONGHOLDS)


IN TONGUES


They answered a call that had no voice,
Choosing freely to be free of choice—
But something real would only threaten it all,
Yield years of doubt or years on the couch.
In some, it stirred their souls…
In some, it fostered goals…
Envisioned revisions of those called as Paul,
Twitching tongues causing the called to crouch—
To wage war among the saints who slouch.
.............(I felt the heavy air;
.............I felt heavily pinned.
.............I felt the rushing wind—
.............I felt it rushing past me…)

A fount of numbed and numbered amount,
Squirming to serve sermons on the mount.
Some moved mountains, some moved to mount an attack.
Inspired tongues of fire like angelic chariots
In unknown tongues that stammered…
In serpent tongues that hammered
Nails into the wood and witch upon the rack.
Like Sons of a Carpenter God, build and bury it—
The Rock of Peter in the Field of Iscariot.
..............(I’ve seen the masses sway;
..............I’ve seen them swayed in mass—
..............And when it came to pass,
..............It came to pass me by…)

Mortgaged mortal emotion
Devolved into devotion…
One human sacrifice of praise
That left blood trickling from the altar.
Fascination for a fastened nation—
The lowest common denomination,
Divine nature found carnal ways…
To hear Wisdom cry, then assault her—
To halt in wonder…wander…halter.
.............(Writhing bodies prayed against me;
.............Lips in glossolalia betrayed me with a kiss…
.............And as my crux of life was in flux as life is,
.............I crossed my fingers and prepared to be crucified.)

For vast passing aeons,
Fast amassing peons…
The living dead, like living waters, run
Dead in the water in the latter rain,
Playing God and losing the game in scorn…
Blindly shearing sheep with sharpened goat’s horns.
Benediction or bendictation?
Though few discern inspired from insane,
Ockham’s razor still threatens Samson’s mane.
.............(Picket signs and wonders—
.............Jesus wept and Atlas shrugged…
.............But all I ever heard above
.............Was someone, somewhere laughing at it all…)


)+(

(taken from THE PULLING DOWN OF STRONGHOLDS)



TRIUNE

I tried renewing my mind.
I just got my license revoked.
I tried to breathe the “Breath of God.”
I inhaled until I cried.
I inhaled until I choked.
The breakfast of champions
Was cold turkey and sour grapes.
I could never be like them;
I could never clean my plate.
.............(One prayer for the spirit that broke free too often,
.............One bullet for the flesh that will sleep in a coffin,
.............A fire burns for the soul that has begun to soften…
.............Hallelujah, I’m triune.)

I put blood on my doorpost;
I scattered ashes on the steps.
I don’t know about the Death Angel,
But the mailman won’t come close.
Signs of the Apocalypse
Say “Billions and billions served.”
When faith became a commercial,
I began to channel-surf…
From revival to bacchanal.
.............(One prayer for the spirit that was never chosen,
.............One bullet for the flesh that will soon be frozen,
.............A fire burns for the soul that iniquity grows in…
.............Hallelujah, I’m triune.)

In reverse, “live” became “evil,”
And “living” became a sin.
I felt smothered by what covered—
But the quickening that strangled
Was the caffeine kicking in.
Some don’t believe in Hell.
Some can’t afford to, I guess.
A real God wouldn’t sell…
Try to find to one in this mess.
.............(One prayer for the spirit that’s forgotten Heaven,
.............One bullet for the flesh that’s become dead within,
.............A fire burns for the soul that the Truth won’t set in…
.............Hallelujah, I’m triune.)


)+(

(taken from "THE PULLING DOWN OF STRONGHOLDS)


THE AMEN CORNER

You've strangled enough with your healing hands.
On a canvas of soul,
You've drawn only a blank--
And if blanks could shoot holes,
Then you could make me whole.
The Devil may care, but I understand:
You're on a highway to Hell,
And he has fixed your brakes.
You were showered with praise--
It didn't help; you still smell.
We followed your flies to the Promised Land.

You built a gospel ship while we swabbed the deck.
And when men of God fell down,
The amen corner looked,
But never uttered a sound...
Just the whine of gloryhounds
(Followers' followers--the "sect" in "insect").
Now you fish for compliments?
It's your mouth on the hook.
So take a second look
At your second-hand sacraments--
At the Last Supper, you left us with the check.

)+(

(from THE PULLING DOWN OF STRONGHOLDS)


SANHEDRIN LOVE

A benediction, a diet of worms—
A loving contradiction in terms...
And I’ve come to terms with so much now,
That I’m at a loss for words.
I’m at a loss for speech.
I have ears to hear, a heart to vow—
And the sight left in my eyes confirms
You prefer me seen not heard,
As you love the way that you know how…
Bleed me with a leech.
Love me with the leech.

Loved and cared for by the brethren—
In care of love, the sanhedrin—
Who discern by concern, thus,
In a flight of fancy, fancied my flight…
By virtue and by proxy,
Gathered in disgust to discuss
Why I shall not enter Heaven.
While Tough Love hides prejudice from the light…
The last words of some of us:
“As it pleases God Almighty…”
Oh God…Please, God Almighty….

Little foxes cause the vine to wither.
Little foxes now run here and thither…
Running from the wolf that I’ve become,
Fleeing the devourer you’ve made me.
Foreseen, not foretold…
Eden found by the sound of the drum,
To be left slowly with a slither.
Eating dust, eating crow, I shall flee
The sum of the men, the sum of some…
Welcomed as you fold.
Welcome to the Fold.

)+(

This'll be great. Really.

THIS BATTLE STATION IS NOT YET FULLY OPERATIONAL.

***

SO WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?

This is my poetry blog. Due to the nature in which my main site, THE AMEN CORNER, has evolved, I feel like sufficient artistic expectations have been built up over time, and thus, I must separate those things which are sombre from those which use words like "Flesh jester" and "kid spigot."

In other words, I'm proud of what I have created, but I feel like I can never really be taken seriously there. People come to be grossed out, shocked, or laugh. I simply don't always have that in me to give. Thus, I voluntarily partition all of my poetry and drama in this little Concentration Camp of boo and hoo.

We'll see how this develops. Afterall, I can barely keep ONE site running as it is...

)+(