Dipping the nib to recreate a dream
God’s plan woven into our sleep
Where do we find our moments of clarity
The ink spreading quietly as if my words weep
Pulling a clean sheet from the ream
Porous surface of the stark linen awaits
No mystic charity in wringing your soul
Close your eyes & embrace your passionate traits
Riding out these rough seas
Trying to shield our shipwrecked daughters
Storms moving in on us rather quickly
Feeling Hell’s heat & it’s only getting hotter
From port to port, not knowing where to go
Remaining free & clear is the only way to live
Every day out on this cleansing ocean
I pray to the Lord, in the chance He might forgive
I’m a solitary figure these days
Although I’m too old to play the fool
Sometimes alone, through rarely free
No longer applying someone else’s rules
Quietly dancing solo these days
Who are we supposed to be then
You disdain my attempts at life
But it wasn’t God who sainted men
Cooler temps mark the new day
Fresh air behind God’s wrath
An eerie calm now remains
Watching quietly in the aftermath
Peeking out the windows
Nervous in the hours after the winds blew
Pressure & fear have dropped
I’ll do anything to hold onto you
If you need to be humbled
Get yourself facing into the storm
Test your perceived prowess
You’ll be stifled by a natural form
Your arrogance against existence
You might as well scream into the wind
Hope & prayer to plead
That the good Lord might rescind
I’m trying to listen to your body
Trying to feel my way to your heart
I’m looking to recover my innocence
That which I lost from the start
I’m decidedly envious of your hands
For they always remain with you
Forever within reach of your flesh
When I must bow & bid thee adieu
I’m continuously jealous of your locket
& the home it has been given to rest
The natural glories akin to Heaven
God alone could bestow such a treasured chest
Wish goodbye to frumpy politicians
& their senile glances
Robber baron approach to public service
After we gave them too many chances
I don’t care for your foreign correspondents
Time to stay home & let the meek be the victors
War machines don’t benefit those who march
Deceit & impropriety measured upon the Richter’s
I don’t understand disdain for fellow humans
I don’t care if you worship in a synagogue or under a steeple
In the end, we’re all God’s children
Here on Earth, we must remember it’s We The People
Jesus was a rouge agent
Calling out institutions woefully unjust
Up-ending currents & the status quo
Powers that be & reigning corporate trusts
Holding fast in the face of arbitrary traditions
We won’t look to long at your offbeat proclivities
Unnerved authenticity & outspoken truth
But they’ll chalk it up as additional incivility
Looking again to God, but knowing She won’t talk
Red-lettered honesty; realism against expectation
Unvarnished tales of the meekest souls
Rapt against our most quietly brave ministrations
“Spread love everywhere you go: first of all in your own house. Give love to your children, to your wife or husband, to a next door neighbor… Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God’s kindness; kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile, kindness in your warm greeting.”
–Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta
Time to toss that hate on the Yule log
’tis love I wish to venerate
Another year rapidly diminished
No more sand to disseminate
It is time to let it all burn away
Unburden ourselves of anything hollow
No better than a dollar store chocolate Santa
Time to honor the Savior you claim to follow
Walking quietly along the dusty rows
I’ve forgotten dreams, but that’s how it goes
Bought the leather bound tome for 35 quid
Trying to uncover God, but she remains hid
Secret to life on the page, but that’s all anyone knows
Summer mornings; rising without the alarm
Open the windows while we’re still in the shade
God’s fresh air can’t do any lasting harm
Yet, snuggle up close; no sense in letting this warmth fade
Asking questions when you know it’s not the time
Answers come, God willing, once we’re free
Released from the expectation of perfection
Quiet responses when you allow your soul to just be
I hear the sea calling
I must traverse her once more
Collecting my wares
Looking for the key to her door
It’s never a pleasant voyage
For I know who I leave behind
But The Lord comforts me
& I have memories to remind
Even if you have failed
This life isn’t a total loss
You can always get get back up
When you’re living under the cross
Bluer than words allow
God’s great oceans set free
Not to be contained
You cannot own the sea
Technological advances
Now seem so moot
Driftwood without direction
A sailor has no roots
Touched by the whim of God
Revolutions in the unlikeliest of places
Tasting the perfect tilt to her hips
My benign lunacy comes in traces
Diluted measurements by midmorning
With inconvenient virtues & unholy glee
Bringing small obsessions in my mind
When the local widows invite me for tea
Entering only after a courteous introduction
No need to intrude on our nebulous beliefs
A shared sacrilege when I watch her curtsey
Dropping to our knees; praying for some relief
I put my faith in a baby child
& He will lead me
I will follow in His path
Being shown what I need to see
I give Him my whole life
I will seek His truth
In my soul He does dwell
Guiding me through days of youth
His love will lift me up
Through the life He gave
I have faith in my Lord
& I know that i am saved
These stories are figments of hope
Simple words from a mind of an everyday man
These theatrics of an unknown sort
Living through each day without scope or plan
Journey to the water’s edge to find a salve
To bathe our souls in God’s great sea
I’m not close to your idea of perfection
But I’m forgiven; a better concept to be
Let me borrow a glass of your mom’s wine
I get thirsty in these evening hours
Noticing silhouettes moving in the kitchen
Before too long I might need a quick shower
This humidity is slowly trying to roast me
I’m soaking wet & need fresh shirtsleeves
Her beauty wouldn’t exist without God’s consent
I’m merely appreciating that in which I believe
Stepping out into the light
My eyes can’t adjust to the sunshine
Night left me with nary a sleep
Stumblin’ home to all that’s still mine
Life comes at you hard & fast on the inside
Wondering when the pitches stopped comin’ in underhand
Won’t wallow in misery nor memory of elsewhere’s joy
These speeches fail to convey truth I can’t understand
Where do we go to return to the proper roads
Did I miss the signal for the game to truly begin
I’m old these days; confused by angles & trajectories
Yet I can still & once again wipe myself clear of my sin
“Every man’s life is a fairy tale written by God’s fingers.” – Hans Christian Andersen
Image by iris Vallejo from Pixabay
“Whosoever is delighted in solitude, is either a wild beast or a god.”
― Aristotle
Flipping through magazines
Trying to find my darling girl
She’s been gone awhile now
She left to see the world
She’ll be coming home soon
& we can end this silly game
My God, I love her so
But she doesn’t know my name
Captain Q 