Stoic Silence Serves
The silent stoic stands
mumbling ice crusted mantra
“my light must never fail”.
Riddled by the sting of stony hail
blanched white by salty spray
peering into the maelstrom’s eye
un-blinking in the excoriating gale
knowing its duty is to serve
those in need – at their worst.
A silent storm’s “eye” mocks
the stoics steadfast stance
unable to comprehend such light
retreats again to fleeting fury
howls at the penetrating beam
exposing the peace within its core.
©7/18/2017
submitted to – Lighthouse – Poetry Contest
This is the hard sense of it
The mythic falls apart
No Bojangle character in the story
The postmodern drama
Unfolds a new tragedy
I can hardly believe this was so deliberate
Yet no one saw the plunge into realism
Would do this
Would do this
And do it again deeper and deeper
Excoriating us
But in the sense of a morbid murderer
Bludgeoning to death our faith
Behind the concrete dimensions of space-time
Did they not understand
Did they not even think about it
For something else in us must have snapped
Before we took the stage and flopped
O it does not matter to you I see
You just like your poetry clean like a child's diaper
I just want the bond to hold between the child and I
This society will not know peace alone by that though
Man must believe in what he cannot see
To conform to the rigors of authority
Or else what else
Can coerce the sundering of individual will
If the mythic is dead
Should I tell them
That without the mythic we are dead
There is so much and so little
Realism can do for us
I think the modern focus is the debit's
Excessive show of losing habit
It is how we cipher even the spiritual
When nothing is left after
The mythic is dead.
Immutable creatures that heaven tend
Excoriating evil, God's kingdom defend
Anthems of praise and adulation wend
Companions of eternal God their dividend
From divine footstool to earth descend
With harp and sword they attend
Righteousness and mirth portend
Corruption and vice to amend
With rouge spirits daily contend
Scouring earth's veil to apprehend
Profiteers and dictators that misery extend
To God's children without end
To the weak, downtrodden a friend
Comfort to the bereaved they lend
Answers to prayers they append
To the repenter, mercy will expend
Quodlibertarians excel at obacerating
And are skilled in the art of obganiating
They drive people nuts,
No ifs, ands or buts,
Even their perscrutation seems nothing less than excoriating!
TRANSLATION:
The Art of Arguing About Anything
People who argue about any subject excel at contradicting
And are skilled in the art of irritating people with constant reiteration
They drive people nuts,
No ifs, ands or buts,
Even their thorough search and diligent inquiry seem nothing less than condemning!
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