(Part ten of a ten-poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)



MOANING PHAROAHS
(Mammals, Pt. 2)

I'm alone again, but then, you know.
And in the end, I've learned
That nothing is worth the plunge.
Madness is a dead ringer for love,
The laughing tsar, a moaning pharoah,
The second death that's burned
Since Eve offered Adam lunch,
And all we are ever dreaming of.

The damage that is due--the damage done,
And the scars across my back,
The eyes that seek to spite me...
All the product of another will,
Another mind and its dominion.
Yet I longed for its attack,
The scapegoat that it lends me.
It's the sweetest drug, the bitter pill.

We are the children of God, some say.
Only a Father would know.
We're given to what heaven sent,
And the pain of feeling alone.
We're only mammals, anyway...
Controlled by the voice we know:
Nature's call, scent of decent,
The midnight cry, the pharoah moan.


)+(

(Part nine of a ten-poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)



THE MORNING AFTER

Lovers, liars, funeral pyres...
The jigsaw pieces of a corpse dismembered...
The crystal, razored shards you step on:
Shattered faith, a heart of glass.
Our house is much the same, as I remember.
Raw, bloody feet stepped past a heart more tender.
Now only larger stones to be thrown
Shall I ever truly desire...
As I sweep the shattered past.



)+(

(Part eight of a ten-poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)



DRY DIVE

My fingers through your dark hair,
The wind soaring through mine...
The taste of smitten lips
Has become synonymous
With asphalt smitten harder.
Love is the harder line...
But the final line to cross
Is made of chalk and bliss.

Painted into a corner,
Then painted over like a stain
By a shade that would grace your nails--
Cute as Cupid, yet black as Baal.
Love is not your color...
And your walls are peeling again.
You sent a card, but God sends quail...
Love, I've found a better way to sail.

I worshipped a God above,
And a goddess far below.
I worshipped the ground you walked on...
Baby, now I'll kiss it head on.
May the ocean of our love
Prove far deeper than we know.
Your dress as scarlet as the dawn...
Love? Lust? Spite? Going...going...gone.


)+(

(Part seven of a ten-poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)



HORSEFLY KISSES


My Love, I feel, I want, I need...
My love I bleed--
Where Cupid's arrows missed,
The Devil shot on sight.
Oh God, it swarms, it bites...
It swarms in passion's midst.
It swarms in passion's mist.
It swarms amidst delight...
Oh God...it feeds--
It feeds on my delight.

My insides coil, they whirl, they shard...
My love, so hard--
Righteous weapons, unholy wars:
A war of nerves, of lust, of bliss...
Swelling shadows that thrive on this.
Beneath love's shadow, I adore.
Beneath your shadow, giving more...
Red roses you'll hold, you'll cherish,
And then discard--
Red roses for the flies to kiss.


)+(

(Part six of a ten-poem story arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)


IDOLATRY

I looked and then I lusted,
As an elder object of worship
Was gone from sight (and thus, from mind).
As steel faith within rusted,
I would steal faith and more that night.
It was idolatry...
Once-sailing love, now a sinking ship--
As a veil within me swiftly ripped.
My new goddess before me
Began to dance, to sway, to strip...

The day love was accosted--
That day the demons swore to me,
"God is love, and love is for all!"
I wept because I'd lost it.
The wild had more to do than call.
Idolatry? Adultery?
It's all the same, honestly...
I betrayed one angel freely
On a silken, rumpled altar
Before the God who sent her to me.


)+(

(Part five of a ten poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)


RAINBOW OVER SODOM

The fear of Hell is second only
To the fear of regret and debt--
To the fear of fear itself...
Love is the second death.
You, my love, my lust, my reverie
Could inflict it with a kiss...yet,
Kiss it away in beauty, stealth.
Love, the gamble; self, the gambit...
A crevice, a crescendo, and careswept cascades.
I don't want to be a friend; I want to be afraid.

Desire is much like drowning;
Your gaze, much like the stinging rain.
Your curves? The hills on the downward spiral.
I feel like falling down again.
A cry inside resounding,
That something else within me reigns...
(And if it doesn't love you, then I will.)
As the fear of consequence wanes,
Your smile waxes blissful, if not well-worn--
A rainbow over Sodom after the storm.


)+(

(Part four of a ten poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)


UNCLEAN THINGS

(I felt it as I slept...
And soon I saw it in my dreams.
And in those dreams, I wept
When I saw that gaping cleft
Left in my soul by thee...)

Ghosts of concsience rattle the bedboards;
The others shake the windows and doors.
And just how much more can I take?
We'll call it love, but it's like rape--
Like a succubus, a disease...
Subdeity of hopes and dreams,
Or a poltergeist of passion's roar.
Love, and unclean thing inside me...
I'm possessed by that which I adore.

I feel fevered, yet I am cold...
Because she sold more than her soul.
Love can't be bought--understand--
But you rent it if you can.
It's like possession from the grave
(Slave to a burning bush God made
Hot like the angel's flaming coal).
I thought I pulled the strings some way...
Instead, a puppet you behold.

(I must stand up, reject
That influence that's crept into me...
I must step back, deflect,
The instant I detect
That my decisions don't involve me...)


)+(

(Part three of a ten poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)


A DEEPER NEED

The fire that now consumes--
Smoke from the inferno within,
Steam from the Devil's nostrils...
To give my angst its share,
To manifest my lust's intent.
No scourge or cross I bear
Left those scratches across my skin.
You are the mark I wear,
My brand, my badge, my sigil...
The scorchmarks on my tomb.
.............(I don't need love,
.............And I don't need you.
.............I need something inside...
.............Something that you do.)

I share the air you breathe,
Kiss the ground on which you walk...
Though, those same heels bruise my back.
This is the nature of sin,
And the key that could unlock
The chains that I'll lock again.
And it comes as no great shock
That I'm back in love, but then...
It's not out of love I act,
But rather, out of need.
.............(I don't need what's in you,
.............And I don't need what's in me.
.............I never needed love...
.............I just need to fill my need.)



)+(

(Part two of a ten poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)


CLOVEN HOOF

The sorrow that so fills me...
Embers and envy in my voice.
Longing for far more
Than alotted freedom of choice,
In what my fevered body needs...
Longing for far more
Than bureau-theocracy...
.............(And may God above forgive me,
.............As gods below stand poised...)

But all I ever wanted
Was a say in the election.
Needing for far longer
Than patience lends protection,
Than courage lends the haunted...
Needing for far longer
To ravage that which taunted.
.............(God, all I ever wanted...
.............Cancer-free confections.)

May all that I remember
Be the lessons of the hunt...
Something better...something more.
And should I find more than I want,
Then I pray return to sender.
Something better? Something more?
And may my soul be legal tender.
.............(In my soul's snowcapped December,
.............Behind me, cloven tracks run.)



)+(

(Part one of a ten poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)


THEFT OF VIRTUE
(Mammals, pt. 1)

I'd almost saved her...
And then the addiction hit.
She'd offered me her hand;
I stared, and then I licked it.
God loves, I lusted.
In God I trusted.
He desired her soul...
But I desired her flesh.
To Hell with all the rest...
Hell has now one more--
Heaven, one less.
.............(I believe in God above, my Love.
.............It is all I have ever known.
.............I believe He made us all...
.............But we're still mammals, you know.)

With angels watching
(Taking turns retching),
The Dark Ones smirking--
Even worse lurking,
We had thrown an empire:
I was the king, and she the queen.
And after passion's fire,
Princes spilt upon the ground.
I thought, as the dust globbed and gleamed:
From dust Man came--
In the dust, he's once more found.
.............(I still believe in God, my dear;
.............And I pray His love can save.
.............I believe we shall find out...
.............We're just mammals, anyway.)



)+(

(#10 in the "Unclean Things" series--THE GRAND FINALE!)



GNOSTIC HELL
(The Blackest Gospel, Part II)

I’m so sorry, Darling, so sad--
Truth is a weed in the Garden of Delight,
And I’m sorry I ever found my green thumb.
I wish I’d never needed to be
A pioneer of our philosophies.
I feel sickened, Honey-that bad.
Truth was the Tunnel at the end of the Light--
A gift of sight that leaves us deaf and dumb.
In the end, I wish it had left me numb.
Need to Know, the bondage of the free.

I’m so sorry, Baby, I guess…
But doesn’t sin feel better when you know?
We were so happy being ignorant.
But such is life, I fear.
Such are the living, Dear.
I feel worthless, Honey, at best--
The Word of God is still “I told you so.”
It’s the most evil thing that’s Heaven-sent:
A wealth of love (or truth) won’t pay the rent…
But sin is a career.

I’m so sorry, my love, you know:
But I just can’t believe in love anymore.
The day of salvation was really yesterday,
And I’m a day late on everything...
But I lack the faith to believe in nothing.
Sometimes, things just won’t let go.
Thus, everything I hear is an eyesore.
And if you’re looking for an answer, for a way…
All I know to tell you is all I’ve learned today:
Damnation…is knowing a damned thing.


)+(

(#9 in the "Unclean Things" series...)



POISON ANGEL

She still, sometimes, calls my house
And begs me to cross the Styx.
Sometimes, she calls to torture me.
Sometimes, she calls for a fix.
Sometimes, she calls to be set free…
But I don’t really know how.
Once, her lips were sweet as honey…
But now her clothing smells like piss.
One day, she wanted honesty…
I wept inside, and told her this:

“You’ve harbored a visitor.
Some call him an enemy.
Some call him a friend.
Call him an inner demon
Who knows an outer truth.
He’s not visiting anymore.
Now he’s a resident.
Now he’s a part of you.

He has come to take you.
He has come to rape you.
He has come to waste your time.
He’s already wasted mine.
He’s why angels weep.
He sows what we reap.
Don’t let him employ you.
Don’t let him destroy you.
He’s far beyond what you know corrupt.
He cannot use without using up.”


)+(

(#8 in the "Unclean Things" series...)


ADAMUS EXUL

I looked beneath the rug today,
And saw a huge dragon surrounding the world.
I just wasn’t impressed.
You see, life has no meaning anymore.
Not since that day she went away.
That meant something, I guess…
But then, I chose to walk away.
I walked away.

I looked in my closet, and swore
I saw twelve dungeons of horrible torment.
I just couldn’t care less.
There is no meaning in life, I must consent,
Since that woman walked out that door.
That meant something, I guess…
But I’ve chosen to close the door.
I closed the door.

I looked under my bed last night,
And saw the Host of Heaven mourning one third.
I need to get more rest,
Because life is meaningless-Haven’t you heard?
My heart’s delight snuffed out the light.
That meant something, I guess…
But I am turning out the light.
I snuffed the light.

I awoke today to find
A great swarming of wilted spirits…
Uninvited unburied guests.
It means nothing. I will not hear it.
Not since I was left behind.
But perhaps I should lay to rest
All the things I’ve left behind.
Oh God…What have I left behind?


)+(

(#7 in the "Unclean Things" series...)


THE INFERNO WITHIN

(She came to me and I let It go.
She came to me and I felt It go--
All I had ever known,
All I had ever loved,
And any sense of sin…
The will to rise above,
The piercing from within,
The last pure thought…into the Inferno.)

Here comes the bite--
The world divide.
No, I have not felt
Convicted for far too long.
Oh God, please quench the Inferno Within--
We all feel the flame,
A burning shame by name.
The pain, it is the same--
The same as the fire
That I have fed in vain.

I feel the guilt…
My spirits wilt.
It’s the closest thing
To my God I’ve felt in years.
I’m enslaved to the Inferno Within--
We all feed the flame.
The shame remains the same;
Our pain becomes our name.
There are no dead in Heaven;
On Earth, there are no saints.

(It cried to me, but I wouldn’t go.
It cried to me, but I made It go.
I felt it all leave me at once:
The last fading, feeble prayer,
The final fleeting embrace
Of a God who’s everywhere
Except the mirror’s face…
The last clean heart, into the Inferno.)


)+(

(#6 in the "Unclean Things" series)


THE FEARFUL VIEW

...What the Hell happened today?
I think I am in Hell, today…

And it has no fury like
The cruelty of life
Beneath a loving God’s design.
The veil has now been torn.
The door has now been slammed behind
A vision briskly walking away.
Bad love becomes good porn,
As it all becomes yesterday.

...This fearful view--
Oh God…the fearful view:
In my last reflection,
I see such dejection,
And an ugliness--
An ugliness that consumes,
And wretchedness--
Wretchedness I can’t undo.

...Where the Hell are you going?
Everything is going to Hell…

I’d never have sold this soul so frail,
If I’d known you were buying wholesale,
Or known mine was a sample,
Or known I was competing.
I knew love was a gamble,
But I didn’t know the race was fixed.
Your brand of trick-or-treating:
A mask of mascara scare tactics.

…This evil view--
Oh God…the evil view:
I’ve become all I hate…
Did this open the Gate?
Such fear--
Such fear as I’ve never known…
So near--
So near…Man can never know.

...Just give me one damned reason
Why your reasons leave me damned…

Maybe I had too much invested
In the pride of life that infested
The mind, the heart, and their pale, serpent god
Which has led them all along; and Lo--
Cupid and Charon give affirming nods
That they are one in holy matrimony.
Paradise is lost from my pillow,
As the Inferno opens up beneath me.

…This fearful view--
Oh God…the fearful view:
Oceans of souls screaming…
Oh God--Am I dreaming?
No…
No…this nightmare will never stop.
So…
So…One last plea…before I drop.


)+(

(#5 in the "Unclean Things" series...)


RETROCOGNITION

And so we burned…
Endlessly turned
Into the beasts we try to hide,
Into the beasts that God denies,
Into another,
Unto another…
Unto ourselves:
A wealth of angst, a perfect crime,
Lacking in grace, lacking in time
(Or time to discern)…
A golden age not worth a dime.

Intimately cleaving…
Intricately weaving
A new design on our hearts beneath,
A new rhythm into our heartbeats.
The past is alive…
The past is our lives…
The past is ablaze-
Masquerading as the future sublime,
Making passion plays of pantomimes.
Leaving be, believing…
Nothing to fear, but fear itself and time.


)+(

(#4 in the Unclean Things series)


KINGDOM OF BILE

In the Hour of Trial,
It’s only nine past three.
Led by base denial,
I will depart from Thee.
And when you see me waver,
I ask you to recall
Your fear of granting favors…
Or anything at all.

Wild, forbidden pleasures,
Her vain, worldly charms…
The most tempting treasures
Spread to work me harm.
Bring to your remembrance
God’s monopoly-
A chasm of circumstance
Burns eternally.

As God’s mercy sent me
Sorrow, toil, and woe,
New angels attend me-
Angels far below.
Granted, I may never
Walk among the free…
Granted, I am ever
Running from the Key.


(Note: this is partially based around an old Lutheran hymn called "In The Hour Of Trial").

)+(

(#3 in the "Unclean Things" series...)



TERRORS OF THE BETWEEN

(It doesn’t set well,
But it set me aflame:
A little death and hell,
And still the biggest game.
And when I stop to ponder
The harsh paradox inside,
A voice expressing wonder
Shouts, “Quit that! Enjoy the ride!
Forget it…Enjoy the ride.”)

Baby, I’ve got the mind of Christ,
But I have a Satanic heart.
And I’m fearful of the end
You were fearful of from the start.
Baby, we’re working out,
Though maybe we’ve got the wrong routine.
When absolutes were dethroned,
You absolutely became the Queen.
And when you were deflowered,
You knew the terrors of the between.

Baby, this is the genesis
Of a brand new revelation.
Baby, you’ve got a brand new god,
But pray in the same position.
The difference between love and lust
Is much like that of semen and spittle.
It’s all excrement anyway,
So let’s embrace the excluded middle.
Baby, I once had all the answers…
Now I’m learning to enjoy the riddle.

(And soon it would come to pass,
I traded greater peace of heart
For a better piece of ass…
A world of romance a la carte:
But a full plate is now before me.
It’s as good as evil gets.
But when I open my eyes to see,
Something hisses, “No…not yet!
You haven’t seen anything yet.”)


)+(

(#2 in the "Unclean Things" series...)


THE GREAT DIVORCE


I love you, Dear--
You are the light of my dark life…
But you don’t fit in my philosophies.
I will change all of that tonight.
There is a great divide
Between belief and actuality.
I need you, Dear…
But you conflict with what I write.
I will change all of that tonight--
There is a great divorce
Between Need to Know and Need to be Free.

I want you, Dear--
But the truth still remains in sight.
I can’t live with that and live with you.
I will change all of that tonight.
There is a monstrous chasm
Between what we’ll say and what we’ll do.
I need you, Dear…
But I’m molested by the Light.
I will change all of that tonight--
There is a great divorce
Between what enlightens and ensues.

Excuse me, Dear--
But faith keeps putting up a fight.
It’s post-religious congestion.
I will change all of that tonight.
There is an ominous gulf
Between comfort and concession.
Don’t leave me, Dear…
Let me convince myself I’m right
(Yes, I will change it all tonight)--
There is a great divorce
Between progress and progression.

I’ll keep you, Dear--
Because I need you in my life;
But I’m tortured by polarity.
I will change all of that tonight.
There is an invisible barrier
Between freedom and integrity.
I love you, Dear…
Though I’m bludgeoned by what’s right.
Remember what I said last night--
There is a great divorce
Between belief and actuality.

)+(

(Taken from the "Unclean Things" series...

...Oh, and I should also probably dedicate this new "lust"-based series to my primary lust...you can catch me on her site today.)


FIRST LOVE/SECOND DEATH
(The Blackest Gospel, Part I)

I was slow to respond
To that Slough of Despond,
And now the flickering green eyes of sin
Have taken aim, taken me in
(Past the point of no return again).
Both stigma and enigma--
A warm, quivering pond,
A lake of fire deep in a valley of skin.
A wound deep as stigmata-
Natural sin…bottle blonde.

On the liege of audacity,
Moist lesions from voracity--
Venom from the fount that cleanses souls,
When the Serpent’s tongue found the aureole
(As Heaven’s legs rolled back as a scroll)…
It’s purgatory, my dear,
Baptized in the fires of ecstasy.
As God erases our names from the Roll,
Heaven never felt so near.
Love, let’s manifest destiny.

An inferno fit for Dante--
Sweet hellfire in silk panty,
Truth bitter as zinfandel
Converting this infidel…
I long for a soul to sell,
While buying back my youth.
Never so bound, never so free…
Love, you are the blackest gospel.
Beautiful, you are the ugly truth--
The downfall of humanity.

)+(

BE STILL MY BLEATING HEART


It humbled me as I stumbled past it...
Darkest hours in the size of ages past,
And blackness in the shape of things to come.
I want to believe, but I'll leave it be.
Take this cup of curdled blood from me.
Be still my beating heart...

Stop beating me with love for things that cannot love me back.
Stop leaving tracks for places I'm not led.
Stop making sense when my senses are so dead.
I'm sick of feeling want for things I've never lacked.

It confounds me that I never found it.
I smelled the smoke, but I never heard the blast.
Heading towards where I'm coming from,
You can only be deceived so long...
But who knew two rights could make a wrong?
Be still my bleeding heart...

The man in the middle is not a thief...no, not a thief.
Stop dropping hints and riddles like crumbs of moldy bread.
Stop turning back the pages of books I've long since read.
You kept me in suspense, but can't suspend my disbelief.

I should have left it where I found it.
We're slow to see the light, but blinded fast.
Lest unseen hands have me under thumb...
I'm sick of knowing everything I don't.
There's a will, and there's a way, but I just won't.
Be still my bleating heart...

Stop bleating for a shepherd when there's no wool to be shorn.
Stop running me around when I need to run ahead.
Stop telling me to go home when mine is long since dead.
I won't be made to feel guilt for the "sin" of being born.

)+(

(from THE PULLING DOWN OF STRONGHOLDS--the GRAND FINALE!)

LOCUSTS & WILD HONEY (REPROBATE RHAPSODY)

Choice voices rejoicing stand out; chiming bells ring all around, surrounding all about…
Rounding out the sad & bitter sinking sounds of forgotten wisdom crying out—
It cries because the Wise and the Chosen have wisely chosen to stay in,
To stay out of its path, out of the way, and on the highway out by then…
But praises ring out in our souls like sodden towels, like wet rags—
And though God numbers the very hair on our heads, beyond a shadow of a doubt,
His messengers and head ushers must wear cheap plastic nametags.
For these days, the Chosen no longer usher in an age,
And Sunday, four aging ushers no longer chose to bathe.
The Risen God said to daily die, and the dead bury the dead.
The Father laughed, “That should keep them busy, just like the Prophet said!”


The lowest rung of Hell
Has rung the bell for service
And service starts at 10AM,
That the great I AM shall let us out by noon.
Because ignorance is bliss,
Knowing that we’re ignorant is sin—
Covered by the blood promise,
With a covered dish to follow then...
Thy will be done or be done away with soon,
But after Show & Tell…
Behold Hollywood Bethlehem!
...................(Today is the day—hosanna, hooray—
...................But the Hotel Hallelujah is full,
...................And there’s nowhere left for me to stay.
...................No, there’s nothing left,
...................Except goodbye.)

Yes, joy came in the morning;
It left on the afternoon flight.
Jesus wept, but what’s not to like?
The yolk of Christ is easy…
But I’m afraid His toast is light.
His children are the salt of the earth—
Born to lightly salt His egg-whites,
Dying daily since the second birth…
The yolk of Christ is easy…
Easy like Sunday Morning—
Easy like falling off a bike.
...................(Cry me a river, and I’ll drown you like a rat—
...................When I was born again, the Devil cut the cord
...................I won’t hate myself for God; I can’t live like that.
...................No, there’s nothing left,
...................Except goodbye.)

The saints are not quite marching in,
But marching into creeks and inlets…
A bitter pill, but better end.
Sure, there is power in the blood,
But there are never any outlets—
Smoldering without a conscience to sear…
Christ’s body creates bizarre giblets,
But makes plenty of leftovers, I hear…
And golden calves chew golden cud.
We live our lies through faith, amen—
Blind faith that some blindly defend.
...................(Born twice, and appointed once to die—
...................To sleep in sorrow, to wake in hate.
...................March forth one second to die like Mayflies.
...................Lord, there’s nothing left…
...................Father, goodbye.)


They are not here for the fish and loaves; they are not here for milk and honey…
They sure as hell aren’t here for the milk and cookies; honey, they’re here for me.
The cycle has begun anew, and this time, baby, it’s set on rinse…
Let its blessings shower all that we touch—I’m afraid of leaving prints.
When everything became a crime, and every man became a glass-eyed glutton…
They prayed locusts would scourge us all—but rain falls on both good and bad, you see.
Feasting on the fleece of fleeced beasts, meat of sheep and shepherd both mangled, minced as mutton.
Listen closely, children—the sound you thought was your heart beating,
Is the gleeful beating of the Locust horde’s frenzied feeding…
Those born to serve were served up just as well, best I can tell…
It’s wild out there, honey…and the Locusts are eating well.


)+(

(from THE PULLING DOWN OF STRONGHOLDS)

ALADDIN'S ROSARY

I’ve got a Pope in a jar.
It gives me peace within.
When rubbed, it gives three wishes,
And then forgives my sins.

I’ve got a Pope in a jar.
Now I possess the light!
I dropped a spider in there,
And shook it, so they’d fight.

I’ve got a Pope in a jar.
Everyone wants to see;
But before they can confess,
They “tithe” five bucks to me.

I’ve got a Pope in a jar.
But, really, what’s the fuss?
I didn’t put him in there…
That’d be sacrilegious.

I’ve got a Pope in a jar.
I’m quite proud of myself,
Because I live all mankind’s dream:
To keep God on a shelf.


)+(

(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.


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(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...



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(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.


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(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.


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(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…)


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(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.)


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(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.

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(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.

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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...

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