We have built the loom of velvet and of nerve,
wove thick silk over the glaring, naked Sun.
Then drowned the blinding beam we couldn't serve,
in this sweet, narcotic bliss: we have won.
We took the brilliant, cold, dissecting mind,
fused it to gut-rot, raw, animal lust -
two magnets locked, a Frankenstein refined,
embodied in a cage of breathing dust.
And in this meat-rigged, gloriously cursed frame,
we grope for truth like blind men feeling fire.
Adorning every scar with an ornate name,
enslaved by the wary design of desire.
Now rip the stitches. Tear the sacred shroud.
Unlace the golden corsets of the mind.
Shed the thick, perfumed armor of the proud,
and leave the clever, grasping self behind.
Peel back the skin, the ego, and the pride -
let the raw, incandescent engine flare.
There is no "you" or "I" to hide inside,
only the blinding light, stripped entirely bare.
Formed in wickedness, born in sin,
tarnished by selfishness within.
Loving evil, hating good,
sinning freely, because we could.
No room for God within our hearts
since Satan lives in every part.
Our body parts are slaves to sin
There's no trace of rightness within.
Fully depraved, we live like slaves,
Pleasures of life is all we crave.
Chained by sin, in darkness we grope
In deep despair, lost without hope.
God sent His Son to this dark earth
so, like us, He'll share human birth.
In man’s flesh, He lived a pure life
In this dark world of sin and strife.
On a cross, He suffered and died,
breaking sin’s curse, turning the tide.
Paying sin’s price, for you and I,
thanks to God, we don’t have to die.
If you want to live and not die,
pray to God, He’ll hear your cry.
Confess your sin, and from it run
reject Satan, accept His Son,
God is love, He’ll save you from sin,
change your mind, and purge you within.
Then you’ll joy in His warm embrace,
free from death’s grip, saved by His grace.
Birthstones and horoscopes over a chi-square
Months with periscopes everywhere
Moon and Sun in shaded segments
Boon and pun in braided alignments
Spells and pleas yowling in the wilderness
Wells or seas swigging in emptiness
Thoughts wandering around
Droughts and dryness seething in a playground
Warmth or heat you nestled from scorching daylight
Cold air or dew drop sighed by moonlight
Wall clock that restricts your borrowed time
Or unseen counter that predicts your stolen dime
Each day that passes by
All day you ask without a bye
Each night that crawls in the dark
All your might you grope behind a scalded bark
Shadows that follow you
Wedge pillows you never had that haunt you
Tales in dreams that smother you
Puzzles in reams that harrow you...
Why bother when there's none to fear?
Fear only God who's able to hear
Your qualms will never leave you
Only until you believe they're never yours that weave you!
Our ancient fathers had it easy.
Every now and again God would appear
To one of them on top of a mountain, in a dream,
Or what would seem to be a burning bush.
He would tell them where they went wrong
(which button to push)
Give them a set of instructions.
Then, presto! Away they’d go
And things would also go right for a while,
Until the instructions became obsolete.
Meanwhile, they would be scrutinised
And revised by God, and a new set provided.
Neat! In the Old Testament this was standard,
Now we come to the New: not so for us.
We have to formulate our own instructions,
Perform our own miracles,
By trial and experiment,
By logic or presentiment.
We hope, we fumble and grope
And often (but not often enough)
We discover a missing fragment
Of the Seventh or Tenth Commandment
(only a fragment, mind)
While the First Commandment,
Although we search, we cannot find.
Someday perhaps,
On a slide, looking down a microscope,
One of the laboratory chaps or some old bod
Gazing at the heavens through a telescope,
Might just catch a glimpse of God.
Even in blasts of winter, I never lose hope,
I wait for spring to come when new sprouts pop
When leaves appear to crown every treetop
When autumn in turn brings a bumper crop.
Even when my sky turns dark, I clutch on to hope
In all adversities and heartbreaks, it helps me cope
I nurture trust and dream big dreams, nonstop
My trip into a fantasy world, none can stop.
In sultry summer, hope falls on me as raindrop
Cooling my mind as morning’s lustrous dewdrop.
When my days grow darker, still I cling onto hope,
As the drowning man holds firmly to a dangling rope.
Through shadowy nights, like the blind as I grope,
And when my feet stagger, hope becomes my prop.
It, thus becomes to every man a powerful dope,
Lending dreams a new horizon and wider scope.
Tunnels cut through a mountain chain,
an unending chain,
a chain that binds;
that twists and turns on itself again,
delivering pain
and darkness that blinds.
At the end of each there is a hope,
a ray of light to which you grope.
When you reach it at tunnel’s end
the next begins as if to portend
the coming of others, unending nights.
The mouth of one the other bites.
As you slip into this endless void
you turn right back trying to avoid
the pitch of blackness and faster than fast,
your wheels turn and pistons thrust,
until the image of the turning wheel
first slows down and then stands still.
It starts again, but spinning back
taking you deeper into the black.
Your whole life becomes this blur,
past, present, future become a slur
and the yearn for eternal rest
becomes a fantasy, a dream at best.
Tunnels cut through a mountain chain,
an unending chain,
a chain that binds,
that twists and turns through another plain
through the living brain
of unsound minds.
514.
Prayer to the Yellow Santa Muerte
Oh Santa Muerte clothed in yellow
Full of hope for those who work & sow
The Lord has sent you
You are holy and true
Santa Muerte, Protector of Hope
Pray for us who yearn & grope
The Hope we ask for please don't deny
While here we live until we die.
Amen.
-12/03/2016
(Dumarao)
*Prayers to the 8 Colors of Santa Muerte
America IV
250 years in,
Still beginning.
Uncertain as ever,
We grope to understand ourselves.
How did it come to this?
How. after all we've done,
Have we come to embrace chaos?
Yet we have.
We have, now, - Twice! -
Elected as our leader
A man entirely devoid of Merit, of Honor, of any virtue whatsoever.
Why? Why so?
Future Generations will ask of us.
How is it possible manchild came to rule us?
How can it be,
That a a man none of us whould've wished for a relative
Came to rule us twice,
Embt\racing Madness as he goes'
How?
Hoping to still be fertile
Lady tightens her girdle
Love handles fly
Curses his eye
He tries to grope that hurdle
I’m getting a new computer tomorrow
I love my tech about as much as I love my boyfriend
It’s M5 chip, 10 CPUs, neural processors and GPUs
will mostly idle away as I grope for the right words
but they won’t show their impatience - no -
they won’t sigh and tap their shoes like a boyfriend.
I’m getting a new computer tomorrow
I’ll love it’s bright, starlight, smooth and flawless skin
maybe not quite as much as I do when I’m groping him
but I’ll sigh with delight as I run my fingers over its form
few things in life completely delight and please me
I know one or two - and one of them will be brand new.
.
.
A song for this:
Joburg jam by Pogo
Nobody by Kate Earl
.
.
*every year I trade in my Macbook Air for a new one, it only costs ~$250 so why not? That way I have the latest, greatest tech.
Sitting in a dark room
I flutter mothwing eyelids.
It comes to me
that I was born to be
the hive master of every earthy beast,
and a flock of wild angels.
My moth eyed fluttering pauses
to stare me down,
I was born to be looked at,
born to be the face of death,
a performance, a circus, a pantomime,
deaths own masquerade, a poet.
Sitting in a dark room
I grope for a bottle of wine on a side table.
My angels are thirsty,
the beasts are lapping at the open cuts,
those self-inflicted wounds
upon angelic wrists.
I was born to be this blank page and a pen,
a purchaser of refurbished laptops -
born to be a set of blindly probing keys
for the unlocking of symbols,
fictions real enough to feed
even the thin white blood
of mothwings.
Listen to my song of hope,
my pen flows, it's that river
seeking the calmest sea;
will God hear this plea?
Disunity causes great fear;
no, heart I won't grope
and stumble on untruths,
that's what I truly despise.
It's harmony that
makes us sing,
it's togetherness
that thrills our spirits
to do amazing things.
Listen to my song of hope,
speak up of you disagree;
in this mirror I see clearly,
morality advices
and guides me.
I reject hypocrisy
in all I do and say,
God is behind me:
He's my shield;
I'll avoid a slippery slope.
You are free to do what
you will, I obey my Lord:
He's the lamp in darkness ,
that thunder that sends
shivers to each spine;
fear Him when it strikes,
stay calm, get off cloud nine,
no sky ever remains calm.
Listen to my song of hope,
this body is the creation
of His hands: take care of it,
its a fact, every lesson has its scope;
avoid sin, choose salvation.
Some get many stakes,
Many watch for fun,
Others support with passion rerun
I just wish to write about all these...
Some love,
Many play with hearts,
Others manage in marriage to laugh,
I just want to be in love with Jesus.
Some pray,
Many rain praises,
Others studied His way,
I just want to have Your grace.
Some tell the truth,
Many fake the lies,
Others follow like Ruth,
I just want to join an allies.
Some cry,
Many smile,
Others frown,
I just want to live a life of my own...
Some look,
Many observe,
Others brook,
I just want to write as I perceive...
Some vote,
Many rule,
Others steal,
I just wish to never keep mute™
Mind blows,
Heart crush,
Emotion flows,
I just wish feelings could make me blush.
Roses are red,
It stands for love's tide,
Valentine died for one,
I just wish it will reach my turn...
Morning is for hope,
Afternoon may grope,
Evening should not elope,
Coz night will determine how well you've managed your scope
Holy guide
invite me to abide
in safe pasture grasses like a lamb,
or like a baby swaddled safely in her pram,
holy guide your beauty is a bright anagram
of love and I never have to grope
in darkness, help me cope
star of hope.
Dark, stark is the path,
I control my wrath,
Trod forth,
Staying on course,
Wanting—needing—to reach the end
Just around the bend,
I pray, I hope,
I grope,
For I’ve travelled far and wide
Without a star to guide,
Without a light
In the night,
I sigh,
Cry,
Wipe tears,
Wish away fears,
And then, ahead
I see red
And greens, yellows, blues,
Various hues...
The sun is shining,
I’ve quit whining
For I’ve reached the end:
That place around the bend,
I shade my eyes
From the glow in the skies,
Peek at the land,
Stand
Strong and tall,
For I did not fall.
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