The gates are thrown open!
Wipe that sneer off your face
Surrender to the thundering God
Or I His prophet will so help me do it for you
You just didn’t want to see what you’ve always known
You are welcome here whatever your sins and wicked ways
If you will but open your eyes and See
Pitch a tent with us on this sacred land and
Live as you were wrought from stone and flame
Raise your arms to the heavens and stand afore the hurricane
August 27, 2025
For what charge is this you lay at my feet?
For what misdemeanour or untruth did I afore commit?
Did I steal, did I lie and some innocence fall in my stead?
Did I indeed do much worse and is someone known to me now stone dead?
There is nothing between the daylight and the dark. No grey space for thought or error, no ending, no start.
As I stand here alone in a world I don’t know, as I listen to lies from the truth men in their show. Though contempt I do feel for the meaning written in your eyes. You’ll find Jesus preaching in hell before any truth of my lies.
“Tea”
Steam pouring forward, perhaps captured with the cold air of time
To be forgotten and lost
Blown away too quick to be tangible
Gentle momentum but me
Not so
Not even the steam ringing from hot tea
Whiskers of cinnamon promise fulfillment
Spikes of ice hot cut it short
Forevermore longing to be
Something more then hot tea taken on an unforgiving night
Bound for nothing
Bound for black and quiet
Only for a moment to be thought of a graceful dance guided with wind
And even I
To be known only to be lost
And to have been something
For it to lack with the persistence of time
Afore loved is always a burden that carries deep into the roots of a being
Although to be named cold air
Is still to be named
Carries with it a reluctance to reminisce
The cold air
"There's a river meandering through the mind,"
older than the Englishmen who raised a bridge
over its Constitution, a nude Indian sped away
from a warring Englishman behind
absconding by canoe to an adjacent isle
but smallpox caught the indie afore ammunition
"There's a river meandering through the mind,"
that witnessed the grapes of wrath in '37
and suffered its wine, the black potential rebelled
against the clear minority who had signed
emancipation letters without intent
ergo, cars with bodies went flying upon the riparian spine
"There's a river meandering through the mind,"
leaning on treasonous city hearts, wrinkling under the trebled
degrees of island sun, chuffing at progressiveness
and how the colour schemes lightly redesigned
black power free, it seems, walks unfettered to its banks
carrying tackle, tiki-torches, tourists, a picnic, and gun
In tattered stacks I sought my way, through dusty tomes of lore
To trace the steps of yesterday, reflections of a time afore
Where apparitions haunt the mist and tarry for a while
To sadly rue the curs'd path of follies artful guile
A shadowed figure paused paying heed to my regard
And from the silent mien I collected my reward
Oh how the heart in hopeless grip doth dwell upon the fear
Reflected in those empty eyes afar and yet so near
They told of tales aplenty, grim in ways unmatched
Of fated days to come in distant memories past
Of portents and of omens, of misgivings dour repast
In ancient times afore those held in futures grasp
There I marked the warning in somber tides of woe
There I gained in mourning the tears of sorrow left unsown
With heavy heart and troubled mind I went upon my way
From tattered stacks and dusty tomes to seek the light of day
With weary steps I trod the paths so many trod before
Of follies dark and artful guile from curs'd days of yore
Wade in the Water
While you can
Afore it steams away
Like the whistle of
A boiling kettle
Tis not the age of lushy, dewy dawn
the springtime of our race
when we knew not right or wrong.
In the gardens of the past,
before we knew a story had begun
There was room for naive error
afore the coming of the Son.
But not for us -no- for we live in the fall:
the anticipatory autumn afore the harvest
at the twilight of time.
What powers have been set before us!
A wealth of resources to wield both right and wrong.
And there are fewer and fewer excuses for wild error
now that the deposit of faith has grown so great.
We live in an age that requires precision and care,
and a heart that can hear our Lord's
still, small voice
amidst the panicked crescendo of time.
2025-03-13 ~8:45-8:56 PM thought of ~7:30 AM on March 11th or 12th
“Thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes.” He said,
Filled with milk and honey but overwhelming his expectations - he feared,
Finding peace and solace in its feel of evermore candor-not for-yet made for-in plentiful, he cheered,
Until I sought no more in its unparalleled enchare.
Out the door she gushed and out his heart she made deport,
Staring across the open door, across the hallway with his heart implode,
Laying waste to the mask which clots his eyes afore.
I implore to thee, whose eyes are that of a doe,
Sing into my ears once more and ward off my fiery foes,
Dance with me once more, oh how I MISS YOU so.
"The snow did not even whisper its way to earth, but seemed to salt the night with silence" - Dean Koontz.
Still as the winter’s night, mourning
When will we heed His soft warning?
Snow dreams, believes, sometimes a sign,
This is the still who makes souls shine.
Gentle flakes, silently falling,
At times, winter’s breath comes calling,
Warming hearts and souls, so divine,
This is the still who makes souls shine.
Whispering to the spirit, winds
Risking moments as night rescinds
Wind rebels, and stutters a whine,
This is the still who makes souls shine.
Snow blesses those who love winter,
Wonder afore life’s midwinter,
Song of love, falling on the pine,
This is the still who makes souls shine.
At start of darkening eventide
The skyline brings lustre to one's eyes
As sun is slipping away from sight
The sky is a picturesque delight.
Trees grace the illustrious sunset
In serene, ebony silhouette
Stately they are standing in tableau
Against the radiant sunset show.
Time to let one's negative thoughts blow
Forgetting one's sorrows and their woe
To complete tasks waiting to be done
Afore one's dreamy dreams have begun.
In ethereal nightly gloaming
Lovers everywhere are out roaming
Beneath a magical starlit show
With a waning gibbous moon aglow.
you must take the time to rhyme,
the design is divine and you will find
it aligns with the original minds
of before times when afore lines
were written/signed and mined
for stage binds and weaved vines
intertwined with the twine of dimes
nickels and pennys deepening fines
as greasy grinds gripping wine stines,
snipping lips with widely-eyed shine
sipping moonshine as they dined
behind locked door were blinds
which burglary was a dyne
like a katabatic slope incline.
Isaiah 44:3 For I will pour water upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground: I will pour my spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thine offspring:
Could it be that our seed are – not only our children, but the seeds we plant for Jesus, seeds of faith, seeds of grace, seeds that are watered by prayer and praise?
Afore death stills me, I’ll praise Him
remembering His love and grace
I’ll sing His praises amid each hymn,
He brings a peace time won’t erase
When the time comes, I’ll leave this life
Afore death stills me, I’ll praise Him
Knowing His light will leave no strife
His endless love and light won’t dim
Without Him, the future looks grim
I’m so thankful to know the King
Afore death stills me, I’ll praise Him
His praises I’ll eternally sing
Hear my song, praising on and on
My cup’s flowing over the brim,
I’ll praise til’ my last breath is drawn
Afore death stills me, I’ll praise Him
Greedy vine spirals smother monoliths
Spider fern moss, fairy forest vertical
Soaks in secrets, promise admonished
Water trawled crevice, creek cervical
Church canopy arch angel honours
Wing finger cool fires praise prancing
Laser selects sections, bark polished
Licked by flitting demure madonnas
Eight afore taped to trees keen tropical
Each fresh capes the chapel innocent
Suckers strung hearts hung over tendrils
Hundred year hardness rots, wet spent
Mighty trunk rips open room charcoal
Doorway discloses disaster clandestine
Bluebeard’s bride wives winding sparkle
Shon hopeful on nymph number nine
3rd of July
Daintree Dancing
Love afore stept the Lord wept as He kept His oath
Let this world mete out to thee unjust blame.
To me, thy fairest eyes shall ever shine,
Let tongues parrot what so eyes at fault frame,
Thy praise alone shall reach keen ears of mine.
Let humble thou of thyself speak modest,
Me, knowing thee well, shall always exhort
Thee to hoist whatever be the fairest,
Modesty never plays a partial sport.
It’s rare still if one in love’s worldly-wise,
My views when weighed by love, are purified
By fire of truth can never once be lies,
An if my faith in love’s fairly applied,
I know, as well as thou, ye love me more
For who I’m than all that I said afore.
_____________________________________
Sonnet |11.05.2024| love, romance
Related Poems