I have no control.
I’m helpless.
I’m lesser.
I’m stuck.
Am I then or now?
I got stuck in the sensible plan of looking after my foot.
The physical pain would have been better.
Every stagnant day is a violent exhaustion,
coercing a broken frame to hallucinate its repair.
Within, my chest is a blackened crater.
Last embers burned out long ago.
No smoke.
No lingering warmth.
Now, only grey ash remains
where my beating heart should rest.
I spend every ounce of fading strength
just to pass as a lesser shade.
I am petrified.
Should I stop acting?
The void would swallow me whole.
Yet no one bears witness.
No one hears the rapture of my collapse
behind the polite greeting,
the quiet smile.
Am I just a spectre at their boundary gates,
bare hands wrapping the bars
while they gather by the light?
The threshold is an uncrossable chasm,
carved directly into my bones.
To want what they take for granted,
to not reach out,
to leave empty palms resting in the leaden air,
is a quiet, sterile agony.
The weight
is slowly,
inevitably,
walking me to my tomb.
The metal scythe like science-fiction machinery whirring passed the farmhouses as dusk enclosed them willingly, soft keystrokes chimed across the fields to the north to sour the fall of the denizens makers are wild on the hunt, but those felled by this reaper took the brunt of the scorned, so this was their last look upon the earth in all realities, the bell chimes for those, and this reaper shalt battle through that first course of lesser bushes and miserly zeal.
The fuzzy shadow
is never far away
from where I started
Everything feels familiar
at forty
The almost ripe tomatoes
are always more patient than me
From my uprooted feet,
I have become a stranger
The same crushed can
greets me on my morning run
when I wish I could see
something I want to see
What hope works so hard to drive
the fittest life to survive?
To reproduce, endure and keep their species alive.
To contrive with such unyielding will and drive,
when entropy works so hard to deprive
them of entry onto Heaven's beehive,
and the keys to the door when they arrive.
They lack enough within of things to consciously derive
hope beyond their instinct to revive
a life crushed by Earth's forces one to five.
Not the great compass winds, but the lesser,
the local winds, the mapmakers.
Odysseus once bagged them, but they escaped.
Anemoi, like the wind that de-horns goats,
or the Moorish, Melteme,
the ill-tempered one. Simoom, the poisoner
who fills throats with its tainted garments,
or Rashabbar the black wind
whose nocturnal wings blind all men.
Named, visible winds that chisel our faces,
as if we were cliffs at the edge of the world.
The Squamish, the Elephanta, the Williwaw,
time-swirling thieves. They steal the young,
the babes in their cribs and when we look for them,
a swish of a hem or a hurricane are the same.
The children return, a sculpted dervish
spiralling within them.
Tebbard, the fever wind, wanders through our bones,
a sultry doctor adding fuel to the heat
until a storm breaks, then as driftwood we are salvaged.
The Fever-bringer itself dies,
dry now as mottled kelp on carrion shores.
Winds that gnaw themselves into Chinooks and Mistral,
winds that shape and follow us
to the rim of the sky, where those celestial dragons,
North, East, South and West winds
dream fitfully of once being human.
The Lesser Matter
There was a human race to save,
Not one race or creed,
For all souls, it was for all,
did our Savior bleed.
For the God of all time and eternity,
Saw the greatest plight,
For our souls, His only cause,
He chose to fight.
Enslavements, genocides, and murders,
for injustices of all kind,
For every cause and case foreseen,
had you and I in mind.
He forsook the royalty of His glory,
to be enclosed in flesh and skin,
Conquered sin and death in the likeness of sinful flesh,
For us to win!
For the radical cause we lift our voices
and fists the same.
Lay down your weapons, for the sake of Christ, in Jesus' name!
For Him, turn neither left or right, to choose a side,
Choose the Lord of Host Most High,
His grace applied.
What does it matter to hate and fight,
mere men are scorned or applaused,
When for the preaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ, is the greatest cause.
Many have forsaken the spiritual battle,
to choose the latter,
to fight, live and even die, for the lesser matter.
That you would pick a fight for part than all of humanity,
A greater weight is more at stake for eternity.
I AM OF I AM LESSER LIGHT
If we are only a vapor, in the wind;
And if we're like fire, charge electricity;
I am the lesser light;
Shown shines from my Father bright ;
I am of I am and I am light;
More joy in delight there be no fight for angels souls, jealousy tolls;
I'm learning to understand
The relationship between God and man;
Again, you gave writing a go;
In shame you now hang your head low.
You once had a sonnet
Or two in your bonnet;
Now limericks are all that you know.
The Lesser Of Two Evils
(Always Gets My Vote)
Miracle Man
10/7/2024
What once were blatant lies,
are now merely, “I misspoke.“
Are us non degree folks stupid,
or is it another political joke?
Politicians tour the country smiling,
shaking hands and grooving.
But a clue to their “misspeaking”,
they’re lips are always moving.
While they may put us in classes,
seeing us as either sheep or goats.
But we still have what they need,
they can’t survive without our votes.
Vote your conscience
"My fellow Americans
ask not what your country can do for you—
ask what you can do for your country."
John F. Kennedy
A rage results:
the orange dolt’s
been at the tweets.
Or truths they’re called -
I am appalled;
please bring receipts.
Then Harris talks -
word salad pox
from pre-typed sheets.
Oh, RFK
You had the day,
why the retreats?
—————
A Rhupunt of the form aaB ccB ddB with 4-syllable lines
Archaic, outmoded,
‘gauche,’ obsolete
O, the invective employed
a lesser man would defeat
Yet unintimidated, he held his ground
for he knew his principle was sound
Adam viewed the fish, the animals, the birds
(paired up so nicely, he perceived)
Then, whoosh! out rushed his shocking words
'Please, for a partner with whom to conceive
I request MY complement, a lady named Eve'
The lesser light rules the night.
The greater light rules the day.
What you are sometimes thinking
Is not what you always say.
Around and around and around,
twenty- three hours of orbiting around,
a routine in which I am bound .
My presence causes pleasure so light,
for I only appear to reflect your light.
Your brightness I cannot outshine,
and their need for you my favors can't outshine,
I have no qualities to learn how to shine.
They watch to see you set and rise,
and leave the hills when I am to rise.
An opening act to your grand show,
a gibbous moon shall show,
an half full moon but I shall grow,
and be the greatest light you'll ever know.
Our God's passion for us
burns like a consuming fire
He shares our hearts with no other
for the word jealous
is His middle name
He wants to be our ultimate desire
in this world
this life and the one to come
He wants all parts of us to
be consumed by His omnipotent energy
not only the tiny portions
like the appetizers on a menu
He will prepare His consuming fire
into a supernatural sword
absent of peace
setting out like a knight
clothed in His shining armour
to devour the shrines and altars
we have constructed
for our lesser lovers
who have promised us a lifetime
of health wealth and prosperity
but instead they consumed us
with nothing but destruction
confusion and division to our souls
He refuses to relinquish
His burning passion for us
with any other creature
dead or alive
on the land
or beneath the ocean's depths
He wants to be our first
last and only knight in shining armour
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