“You’re living at a time of extremism, a time of revolution, a time when there’s got to be a change. People in power have misused it, and now there has to be a change and a better world has to be built and the only way it’s going to be built is with extreme methods. And I for one will join in with anyone, I don’t care what color you are, as long as you want to change this miserable condition that exists on this earth. Thank you.” Bookmark and Share Bookmark and Share


man of parts

two part poem: first half, i was steeped in sin, looking for an exit. (watchdogs: some time ago :)

second half: was written after God answered the former words.

-  -
part 1ne. the flight

a long time coming,
a poet in revival; who stares inward at the looking glass.
time fell, like words lost in translation.
now i mourn those concoctions over monday morning cups of slow.
those words are lost forever like the obits in the rear of smudged pages.

i want to walk forward beyong the moss like Clif did,
but feel restrained by sticky greens that ripe in dead men's backyards.

is it worth it to be disillusioned for late night afternoons?

i want you more than life,
so place me between your arms and let me lay.
send me to drink until i'm satisfied; for the well i seek leads to dusty death.
the crimson rope i tied roundabout my neck inclines me to The Pit;
but my longing for you is my reprieve.
what saves me is my longing for you.
let me find you before this ashen grave consumes me.
your love will consecrate,

it will render.

it has,

it does,

it will.

set me free like those before. let my words praise you, as they're borne to.
they will chase and find you.
they will reach your doorstep in batches inscribed, "i love you too,"
they are your joy and my freedom; the redemption words.
set me free.

-  -

part two. the fight

NOW ALIVE, not bound by happenstance,
chains or grab-at's.
this life, no longer mine, it's yours.
the slick try that's inside won't collide with the I.
King of kings.
The nations will all know you.
Alpha y Omega, sings clear through my bones.

Is this possible?
that a little drummer boy,
who pitter-pattered and ate noise,
set down demon's toys,
And beheld The Man?

by default i now call on the name
who's change splits chains,
I, I won't stay the same.
in the high grass of my soul,
i will gaze,
i will praise;
on and off seasons,
i will speak those things--

simply, i am dead,
to mediocre sub par notions,
beaten and changed up backwoods, on ravenswood back blocks; i'm not that dude.
dead to life unreal,
dead to a here under veils of smoke and mirrors and her--
done to the ways of the off-set stance, side-skirting wisdom under false pretense.

I'M YOURS, never to return again to sauline rebellion.
This is The Stand, tell 'em.

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