Monday, March 22, 2010

Imagine My Horror...

A dark power is beset against me;
It lurks wherever I tread.
It seeks to blind so I will never see
And make me as good as dead.

It seems like it is ever nearer
I think I see it in the mirror.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Sonnet I

When I tire of repentance-cycle life,
Turning violently back upon myself,
I move to match my lurking shadow-strife
And place my Holy Sword upon a shelf 
Then the darkness that ever creeps behind
Is accomplice to my dark revelry
Sinful acts and idleness are entwined
In the start of a growing devilry
Not caring to struggle in a lost fight
I let the heavy chains encircle me
Because I know that I have not the might
To climb out of the valley and walk free
The still small Voice after fire reminds
I need not my own strength to break the binds

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Fight to Win, Or Lose

I'm frozen in the Gorgon's stare
With sword and shield forgotten
Slow hunching limbs drag me to prison lair
A stagnant state made me rotten
Doom hovers, I'm darkly aware
Half screams in terror, while half does not care.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

A Tatter on the Heap

A rag in the wasteland
Cast aside
Children gather under it
Families fight over it
It keeps them warm

Cloth for them to wear
They build their homes out of it
But there is not enough to go around
To share
To cover cold skin-wrapped bones

Bare legs and arms poke out at the edges
The exposed masses gather ’round
With distended bellies
And dry blinking eyes
Pointing towards, searching
For the hand that discarded
This tatter upon their heap
Hoping for another
Waiting patiently like silent sheep
Before the shearer
Or cattle before the abattoir
They do not see
Or they do see
That their scavenged shelter
Is a blood caked handkerchief
They can choose no other
For they are beggars all

Those pale hairless apes
Washed their blood drenched hands
With this fabric before
It was home to the abhorred
They wiped off the blood of the parents
Giving the cloth for the children’s garments
Expiating their guilt
By throwing the infant rags
From a diamond encrusted hand
Can they bear to look?
At the children in blood soaked clothes?
Or at the naked multitudes praying
For even a corner of the blood encrusted cloth?

The hairless apes lurk in mansions
Spread across miles
Endless rows of pallid picket fences
Buzzing street lights
Empty roads
Blank walls
Full garages
Brightly-painted locked doors
Masking the lethargic beasts that dwell within
While in the wastelands
Their discarded excess and forgotten leavings
Are fought over
Every scrap saves a life
But there are so many more

And lives
To save
Or to lose
To sacrifice
Or to abandon
To give
Or to take
To build
Or to burn
To hoard
Or to scatter

In the end your actions
And possessions
Will tell a story about which you valued more.



Wednesday, March 3, 2010


I am a solitary man. Alone, trapped, with only my thoughts to keep me company.
I am a wandering soul. Traveling, tearing at roots, floating untethered.
I am the silent one. Voice boxed in my voice box. Its dark prison is my mouth and my teeth are the bars.
I graze by lives, never connecting. Lightly alighting upon many never resting, never staying.
Like a dandelion seed blown in a dry land, I wander aimless.
I want to know more than gentle passings.
I want to experience more than a light touch.
Don't we all?
We are all floating like blind fairies in a gale.
Fate's wind throws us where it will.
We brush by each other and crash into one another.
I want you to stay.
Right here by my side.
For a minute, for an hour, for a day.
Just tell me where you are.
Show me who you are.
And I will come there and grasp you.
And maybe short roots will form.
Me to you, you to me.
And others could come.
Her to you.
Him to me.
And we could form a chain.
Not a net or web; thin and easily broken.
But a chain of lives connected, connecting.
Supporting, binding.
A chain of lives growing around the globe and filling it with hope.
I will hope.
Maybe one day we will do more than brush mutely by.

- F.L.